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hp_rarefestTitle: When the Night Falls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
writcraft
Prompt: Own Prompt
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/James Potter, Remus Lupin/Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Word Count: ~6,600
Rating: NC-17
Content: Underage (17) (James and Sirius), Canon Divergence, EWE, First Times, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Handjobs
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to the mods for running this fest and for letting me participate. I wanted to write something related to Pride month. The idea of first times and Muggle bars was one I couldn’t shake. I hope anyone that’s ever disco-danced their hearts out somewhere similar enjoys the story. The 2028 bar in Diagon Alley is at the same sort of point as today’s Muggle bars. The title is from ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ by Whitney Houston.
Summary: Over the course of 50 years, three generations of Potters experience love and loss beneath the bright lights of London’s gay bars.
PART I: Summer, 1978
The air hums with music and the acrid scent of cigarette smoke fills the air around them.
“Like it?” Sirius’ eyes are dark and flashing with excitement. He grabs James’ hand and tugs, hard. “Come on, then. I want to dance.” The music thuds and thumps, disco beats reverberating from the dancefloor and vibrating against the soles of James’ feet. He looks at his too-tight brown shoes and flared trousers and pulls a face.
“I’m not dressed right. I look like an idiot. I told you I can’t do Muggle. What the hell are people wearing, anyway?”
“Whatever they like. It’s that sort of place, isn’t it?” Sirius rakes a hand through his hair and appraises a men in head to toe leather. Somehow Sirius can pull of the high-waisted, belted trousers which flare out from just below the knee. He’s all long-legged and his hip juts provocatively as he watches the crowd, deciding on his next move. “I wouldn’t mind a leather jacket, one day.”
“I’ll get you one for Christmas.”
“Don’t be mad. I’m filthy rich.” Sirius flashes James a grin and James lets it slide. They both know it’s not true at the moment – not with Sirius sleeping on the floor next to James and unable to access any of the money in his vaults. It will be true on day, though. James just hopes they both live to see it.
“Still.” James glares at his trousers and shakes his head. Stonewashed, Sirius said. They look stupid and to add insult to injury he’s got a jacket to match. It clings to his shoulders and it’s too tight and too short. He’s already itching as his shirt rubs against his neck, the collar ridiculously wide and the shirt too patterned for its own good. He misses his robes and sensible colours like black, burgundy and gold. “I look like a dickhead.”
“Don’t be soft. You’re gorgeous as ever.” Sirius smiles, wide and toothy. He puts his hands over his head and does some kind of move that James can only guess is supposed to be dancing. It’s ridiculous enough that James bursts out laughing.
“They’re not going to serve us booze. No chance.” James follows anyway because it’s Sirius, and he can’t really stop himself. The place is like nothing he’s ever been to before, dark and smoke-filled. There are men standing next to each other in shadowy corners, closer than he’s ever seen men stand before. There are women that look as though they might be men in tight dresses and thick layers of makeup. There are people dancing to the heady beat of the music and the odd American accent catches James’ attention. “Loads of Americans.”
“One or two.” Sirius gestures around, wide-armed and full of himself. “They come from New York. There must be a thousand clubs like this in America. I’m going to go, one day. You just watch me. I’m going to dance in San Francisco and fly my broom over New York.”
“We’ll go together.” James slips his hand into Sirius’ and it’s warm and firm in his own. “You, me, Moony, Wormtail and Lils.”
“Yeah.” Sirius’ smile falters but it’s so quick, James thinks he must have imagined it. “Let’s do that. The whole gang.” He releases James’ hand and leans against the bar. Somehow all it takes is a smile and Sirius returns triumphant, with two full glasses of beer. “Cheers.”
“Is this even legal?”
Sirius laughs, leans close and his breath tickles as he whispers to James – his voice low and husky. “None of it’s legal. Why do you think I suggested it?”
James’ stomach swoops perilously as Sirius stays close by his side. His palms are clammy and he takes a steadying gulp of his booze. He’s not sure if it’s the beer, Sirius or the throbbing music surrounding him as they move closer to the speakers.
Whatever it is, James isn’t sure he ever wants to leave.
*
“Are they…?”
“Kissing?” Sirius looks amused, his lips slick with whatever sweet cocktail they’re drinking now. James lost count after the first three. “Yeah, I suppose they are.”
“Sirius?” James swallows and looks around again. There really are a lot of men and some of them are dancing awfully closely, their shadowy forms moving together with abandon. “Where are we again?”
“Charing Cross, I think.” Sirius lights a cigarette and waves the question away, but James doesn’t miss the way the flush rises in his cheeks. “Somewhere like that.”
“Padfoot.” James growls and inches closer as someone looks him up and down. “That’s not what I mean.”
“No?” Sirius puffs on his cigarette and pulls a face when James makes it clear he’s not going to give up. “Fine, then. We’re in a gay bar. I’m a fag. Didn’t you know?”
James swallows, the word fag hard and cold against his ears. He’s heard it before, yelled out by Muggles on the streets of London. He’s heard the word whispered at school in hushed voices with dark, unforgiving expressions to match. The revelation sets something thudding deep in his chest and he’s thankful the music swallows the muted sound of his heart going at a thousand miles an hour. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“Why shouldn’t I, if it’s what I am?” Sirius’ eyes are dark, his expression thunderous. “I like blokes. You should see some of the magazines I get off on.”
James glares at Sirius. “I don’t give a fuck if you like Hippogriffs, Padfoot. It’s me. James. Don’t be a prick just because you’re scared.”
“What would you know about being scared?” Sirius pulls a face, but the anger in his tone fades away.
“Quite a bit, actually. You do know we’re about to fight a war, don’t you?” James takes a long drink of his beer and keeps close to Sirius. He’s still trying to picture it – Sirius kissing another wizard or a Muggle. He can’t seem to shake the image from his head and it sends an unexpected heat through his body.
“I know.” Sirius finally meets James’ eyes and gives him a sheepish, lop-sided grin. “I should have told you about all this. I’m sorry. Do you want to go home? I can stay by myself if you do.”
“That’s not what we do.” A flash of jealousy makes his words harder and James squeezes Sirius’ hand again. “We’re staying. You just don’t want to pay for the next round.”
“You caught me.” Sirius holds up his hand, laughing at last. It’s a moment before the laughter fades and Sirius looks at his feet, his smile faltering. “Jamie, I can’t come here with anyone else. You hear them, sometimes. Those Slytherins and their obsession with unnatural acts and impure blood. It’s not just the fact I’m a Gryffindor that made my dad burn my face off the family tree. The Muggles are nearly as bad. I read about this place and I thought it sounded…safe.”
“You’re safe with me.” James is dizzy and a person shoves past him, closing the distance between himself and Sirius. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I thought it might make things…peculiar.” Sirius stares at James, his gaze searching. His eyes drop – just for a moment – to study James’ lips. He slides his tongue over his own lips, leaving them damp and shiny. “Wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno.” James can’t seem to stop staring at Sirius. He likes Lily, he tries to remind himself. He likes soft curves, red hair that smells like oranges and wide, green eyes. He doesn’t know if it’s the music, the booze or the way Sirius smells like musky cologne and broom polish. With a low groan, rising from his throat he yanks at the stupid shirt Sirius wears like it was made for him. He tugs him close until their lips clash together, wet, searching – teeth and tongue.
It’s not his first kiss but it’s the best he’s ever had. James loses his next sentence to a broken gasp from Sirius and another deep, searching kiss. The stubble on Sirius’ chin rubs against his own and then they’re with the rest of the men in the dark shadows. They’re together, James with his back to a wall papered with flyers as the music pounds away to nothing. Sirius shoves his leg between James’ parted ones and tangles his fingers in the too-long hair James meant to get cut ages ago. He tugs until James’ head is tilted, his throat exposed to desperate, hard kisses. Sirius tugs James’ bottom lip between his teeth and kisses him over and over until they’re both dizzy with it. James rocks against Sirius as Sirius pushes his hand between them to palm at James through his trousers.
“Jamie. It’s always been you.” Sirius breathes hot and wet against James’ neck, his tongue rough as he licks a line along the column of James’ throat. “Christ. Fuck, you’re so fucking hot. Just you. Only ever you.”
James pushes aside a wave of guilt and kisses Sirius as hard as he can, to swallow back the fact he can’t respond in kind.
*
They curl close on the narrow bed in James’ room and slide together in the dark room, their bodies slick with perspiration.
“How do you want to do this?”
“I don’t care. Just…something.” James bites back a shout when Sirius wraps a hand around his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. “That. That.”
“Yeah?” Sirius sounds pleased, nipping a path down James’ throat and stroking slowly. “Can I taste you?”
“Fuck, yes.” James throws his arm over his eyes and hisses, nearly catching Sirius in the chin with his knee as Sirius takes him into his mouth in a slow, slick slide. It’s everything. His heart pounds with it, his nostrils filling with the familiar, woody scent of Sirius and the faint scent of sweat and sex. He tugs on Sirius’ hair when he’s close, but Sirius doesn’t stop. He keeps teasing, sucking and licking, his tongue sliding in maddening strokes over the thick line of James’ cock. It’s better than it should be; better than James deserves. “I’m going to…”
“Mmm.” Sirius hums around James and he comes with a low groan, arching into Sirius until his cock hits the back of Sirius’ throat. Sirius pushes James back onto the bed, his hand large and firm on James’ hip. He sits up eventually, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “Okay?”
“Good. It’s good.” James slides his hand around Sirius, tugging as he likes to be touched himself. Sirius pushes closer and finally he’s coming with a muffled shout against James’ hot skin, spilling himself over James’ fist.
They stay there in the darkness and wait for their breathing to settle.
“Lily,” James says.
“Not my name, darling.” Sirius tips his head to study James, his eyes dark and unfathomable.
“I love her,” James tries. He’s not sure it’s true anymore, but something deep inside his belly tells him it has to be.
“I know.” Sirius gives James a slow smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans forward and kisses James, soft, sweet and slow. “I’ve always known. A boy can dream, can’t he?”
“Yeah.” James closes his eyes and his body trembles. He clenches his hands into fists and pushes closer to Sirius because despite himself he can’t seem to let the moment go. “What’s life without dreams?”
“Not much.” Sirius tangles his hand in James’ hair, stroking him until his body stops trembling quite so hard. “Let’s make it a good one, J. A good dream.”
James sinks into the way Sirius kisses him – full of contradiction. It’s brutish and beautiful all at once.
The dream ends with a deep, sleep-warm kiss as the sun comes up.
It’s the last time James Potter ever kisses Sirius Black.
***
PART II: Autumn, 1998
The music is too loud. Harry isn’t sure he can take it when three people jostle past him and he has to yell over the thump, thump from the club next door to be heard. He checks his pocket again, just for good measure. His wand’s still there. Good. He can’t help but stare at the man dancing on the corner of the bar in trainers, tiny shorts and not much else.
“Evening, darling.” The man gives Harry a wink and heat rises in Harry’s cheeks. He gives the man an awkward wave which seems to delight him, his smile wide and his laugh rich. “You’re adorable.”
“Err, thanks.” Harry rakes a hand through his hair, sure the heat in his cheeks gives him away. He tears his gaze from the dancers and focuses on pushing through the throngs of people until he reaches the bar. The surface is sticky with booze and the scent of sweet shots hangs in the air. “Rum and coke, please.”
“Really?” The barman arches his eyebrow and his gaze sweeps over Harry. “Show us your ID, there’s a love.”
“ID?” Harry shuffles through his wallet until he finds the card Ron and Hermione made him, which proudly proclaims his fake student status. Engineering. Imperial College. He’s not sure why Hermione insisted on that of all things. He doesn’t know a fucking thing about engineering. “Will this do?”
The barman appraises it critically and then shrugs. “Suppose so. They’ll ask you next door if you want to go out late. They might need a passport.”
“I’ll just have to stay here for a bit, then.” Harry gives the barman his best smile and is rewarded with a snort and a rum and coke which spills over the edges of a plastic cup.
“Or you could just go through the back.” The barman points to a door where the majority of people seem to be disappearing. “Beat the queues and the bouncers that way.” He winks and a warmth slides through Harry’s veins, making him giddy.
“Of course. Thanks.” Harry wonders if he’s got first time in a gay bar tattooed on his forehead. He rubs his scar just to make sure it’s not lit up like a beacon. He watches the flex and stretch of muscular arms raised aloft and swallows thickly at the sight of men in tight vests which accentuate every line of their torsos. He takes a long swig of his drink and smiles back at a girl who’s dancing with friends in a red and black flannel shirt. She throws her head back and laughs at something her friend says, before moving closer to a good-looking blonde and dancing with swaying hips to an upbeat, poppy song which filters through from the nearby dancefloor. Harry slides his hand over his wand and lets the familiar sensation of magic pulse through his veins. A sense of freedom overwhelms him and he has to swallow back a wave of emotion.
He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s in Soho and if he’s very lucky he might even have a snog. For the first time in his life, Harry feels like a proper teenager – dancing and drinking with people just like him.
Harry contemplates the door to the club for a moment. He ignores the pull of the crowds heading to the dancefloor and finds another small room, bathed in purple light. It seems quieter there, with groups of friends huddled together and laughing. The pounding music is less intense – just the dull thump of bass which vibrates through his feet. There’s another bar with hardly any queue at all and the barman sweeps the surface with a cloth, whistling to himself and chatting to a regular sitting on a bar stool.
“Can I sit here?” Harry drops his bag on the last spare seat, next to an older man with his nose buried – somewhat strangely – in a book. Who goes to a bar on a Thursday night to read a book?
“If you like.” The man closes his book and looks up, eyes soft. “Harry.”
“Fuck.” Harry’s drink slides from his hand and Remus catches it smoothly. He gives Harry a quick look and shifts over with a pat on the seat next to him.
“Sit, Harry. We need to talk.”
*
“I know the risks.” Harry’s cheeks are flaming hot and the rum and coke doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s on his second and Remus is still explaining things which aren’t exactly quelling the heat in Harry’s face. “You don’t have to…you know.”
“I don’t have to remind you to be careful?” Remus takes a sip of his drink. Ale. Harry should have gone straight into the club and danced like an idiot. He’s pretty sure it would have been better than having an awkward chat with Remus. “I assume you’ve come prepared?”
Harry splutters on his drink and he puts it down, glaring at Remus. “I’ve come out to dance.” He does a little shift in his seat to make the point, but Remus just looks a bit pitying. “I just wanted to have a drink and a snog. Is that such an issue?”
“No.” Remus shakes his head and he stares ahead for a moment, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “I was worried.”
“Why?.” Harry fights against his instinct to rail against Remus. The familiar sense of being suffocated crawls across his skin until his whole body itches with it. He clenches his hands into fists, discomfort snaking through his veins and making his hands hot and clammy. “I’m in Muggle London for a reason. I don’t want Professors telling me what I’m supposed to do or not do, bloody hell. I just want to have fun. Who told you I was coming here?”
Remus winces and he rakes a hand through his hair. His gaze flicks to Harry. “It might have come up over dinner with Molly.”
“With Molly?” Harry groans and he drops his head in his hands, muffling his voice. “I’m going to kill Ron.”
“For the record I don’t think he meant to let it slip.” Remus pats Harry’s shoulder. His voice is warm and he sounds amused.
“Did Molly tell you to come and find me?” Harry raises his head and glares at Remus. “I bet you all discussed coming to get me to make sure I don’t accidentally have a bit of fun with a Muggle bloke.”
Remus flushes, a light pink tinging his cheeks. “Nobody told me to come. I decided to of my own accord. I thought it might help to know there’s someone you can speak to if you like. Someone who understands.”
“Oh.” Harry stops at that, staring at Remus. “Really?”
“Yes, Harry. Really.” The corner of Remus’ mouth lifts and the way he stares at Harry is warm and intense. There’s something else behind his eyes – the flicker of something darker – possessive. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“S’alright.” Harry shrugs, tearing at a beermat. He can’t quite look at Remus anymore. “You bought a book.” Harry hopes he sounds as horrified as he is. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, his jaw clenching. He takes a long gulp of his drink. It’s sweet and soothing. “You sat here and read a bloody book because you think I can’t even be trusted to have a shag.”
Remus lets out a low growl and he presses close to Harry, his breath hot in Harry’s ear. “I trust you, I just don’t trust them. Not until I know you have all the information you need to protect yourself from diseases and situations even being a wizard can’t cure. Without your father or Sirius here I thought I should…warn you. I’ve had Muggle friends, Harry. I’ve lost people I’ve loved. I won’t lose you too.”
Harry swallows. There’s something about the way Remus’ breath tickles his ear that sends fire flickering in his belly. He shakes his head, trying to think clearly. “If you’re talking about sex, I know what to do. Hermione got me a book.” He takes his wallet from his pocket and pushes it across the table to Remus. “Go on, then.”
Remus opens the wallet and a dark cloud flickers over his features before he closes it again. He looks away, his jaw working. When he looks at Harry again, his expression is calmer and his lips twitch in a small smile which doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well, then. I needn’t have worried.”
“No.” Harry pulls a face and finishes his drink. “There’s really no need.” He’s conscious of the way Remus’ leg presses against his own and the warmth from the gentle pressure. He should probably move, but despite his initial frustration he’s not unhappy to see a familiar face.
“Then I’ll go. Leave you to it.” Remus drops his hand on Harry’s, giving it a brief squeeze. The touch sends a spark of warmth across Harry’s skin and he has to swallow to keep his voice even and steady.
“Don’t.” He looks up, trying to read the peculiar look in Remus’ eyes. “I don’t mind. We could just have another drink.”
“We could.” Remus looks uncertain, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something before he presses his lips into a tight line. “I should tell you I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Don’t really care.” Harry grins, his anger leaving him. “Neither am I. Besides, I don’t know any of the songs. Muggle radios don’t work in Grimmauld Place.”
“Same again?” Remus makes to stand and Harry puts a hand on his arm, stilling him.
“Can I? I want to.”
Remus stares at Harry’s hand on his arm before he nods, tightly. “Go on, then.”
“Okay.” Harry makes his way to the bar and when he looks back, Remus is watching him with the strangest look in his eyes.
*
“What does it feel like?” Harry’s that warm, comfortable sort of pissed that makes him talk more freely. He’s inched closer to Remus and their legs are now pressed together from hip to ankle. If he tilted his head just a bit he could almost relax onto Remus’ shoulder. Two men are snogging in the corner and Harry can’t help but stare at them, swiping his tongue over his lips and wondering what it might feel like.
“Kissing?” Remus looks at the men briefly, then back at Harry.
“Nope.” Harry looks up and he meets Remus’ eyes. “The rest.”
“Oh.” Remus clears his throat and his eyes darken as he stares at Harry, soft and quiet. “I’m not sure I should…”
“You said you trusted me.” Harry tips his chin and firms his jaw. He hopes he sounds as determined as he is. It’s suddenly imperative he knows exactly what it feels like. The thought of warm fingers stroking along his spine makes him shiver. His voice only shakes a little bit when he nudges Remus with his foot. “Tell me, will you? Otherwise, I’m just going to dance.”
Remus stares at Harry for so long Harry’s almost about to leave, before Remus settles his hand on Harry’s leg. He squeezes and Harry has to bite back a groan. “You’d be better with someone you trust. It’s always more satisfying than a quick grope against the wall.”
“I bet.” Harry tries to imagine doing that with someone who doesn’t know the first thing about his life and the thought is both appealing and not. “I’m hardly going to be able to bring a Muggle back to Grimmauld Place, though. I don’t even know where to start with wizards. There’s nowhere like this place.”
“No,” Remus says. His expression is cloudy. “In this we’re further behind than the Muggles, I’m afraid. We have precious few people invested in fighting for the cause when we’ve had so many other battles to focus on.”
Harry frowns at that and places his hand on Remus’. Slowly, Remus turns his hand until his palm faces upwards and their fingers twine together.
“I trust you. I could bring you back to Grimmauld Place.” The words spill from Harry’s lips and he clutches onto Remus as if he’s never going to let go. “You could show me, maybe. Instead of tell me.”
“Harry.” Remus’ voice is rough, catching in his throat. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m not the man you might expect me to be. Not when I’m like that.”
Harry presses closer and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Then tell me.”
Remus slides his hand out of Harry’s, pausing before sliding his fingers into Harry’s hair.
He leans close enough that Harry shivers under the sensation of warm breath tickling his neck.
Remus talks.
*
The kiss seems to take Remus by surprise which it really shouldn’t, considering the way Harry’s body has been reacting to every word falling from Remus’ lips. He shouldn’t be as hard as he is from words like rough and desire and the suggestion of a period of intense possessiveness and heightened sensation just around the full moon. He shouldn’t be thickening in his jeans when he’s close enough for Remus to catch the scent of him on his nostrils. He shouldn’t be thinking like this at all about Remus.
There’s something so compelling and magnetic about the way Remus talks in a husky voice and whispers in Harry’s ear. He suspects Remus expects to scare him off, but all Harry feels is safe. Warm, safe and bloody horny.
He tangles his hands in Remus’ hair and nearly launches himself at him, kissing him fiercely. “Please…”
“Harry…” Remus pulls back, his eyes wide. For a moment, Harry thinks he’s going to push Harry away. Instead, he slides his hand into Harry’s hair and lets out a low growl which slides through Harry’s veins and makes him shiver. “You’re a menace.”
“I know.” Harry smiles against Remus’ lips and then they’re kissing as the strobe lights flicker around them and the music pulses from the floor through their bodies.
*
They don’t talk at all as they try to find a spot which isn’t full of people to Apparate from. Eventually, Harry tugs Remus down a deserted alley and they’re twisting through the air to Grimmauld Place.
“Here we are.”
“Yes.” Remus studies Harry as he opens the door with a flick of his wand and a slight tremble in his hands. “Perhaps you should put the kettle on.”
“Really?” Harry closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. He frowns at Remus, stuffing his wand into his pocket. “You want to drink tea? Now?”
Remus groans and mutters something under his breath. He takes a step closer to Harry, sliding his fingers along the lines of Harry’s jaw. He licks his lips and when he speaks, his voice is gruff and hoarse. “Not particularly. I am…slowing things down.”
“Oh.” Harry can’t help but lean into Remus’ touch. “Well, don’t. I mean, unless you want to.”
“I’m far too old for you. Your father was one of my closest friends.”
“At least we know mum and dad would have liked you.” Harry gives Remus a smile which he hopes will get them back to the kissing again. He liked the kissing. He turns his head and places a light kiss on Remus’ finger. His lips part and he slides his tongue experimentally over the length of it. Remus has long, sure fingers and there’s something deliciously filthy about sliding them into his mouth and sucking lightly.
“Christ.” Remus lets out a growl and then he’s pulling Harry close again and – finally – kissing him. He backs Harry into the wall and shoves his hands over his head, kissing and biting down the line of his throat as if he can’t quite stop touching Harry. Harry jerks forward as he feels the brush of Remus hardening in his trousers, pressing against his body. He groans into the fierce kiss and he tugs at Remus’
clothes.
“You went Muggle.”
“Yes.” Remus smiles against Harry’s lips, a low chuckle falling from his lips. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans and it leaves Harry breathless.
“You’re really fit. Why did I never notice?”
“Because it would have been completely inappropriate, cub.” Remus nips at Harry’s lip and slides warm fingers beneath Harry’s t-shirt to stroke over his stomach. The affectionate term makes Harry’s breath catch in his throat and he winds his arms around Remus’ neck and arches into the touch. Remus hums into the kiss and strokes over Harry’s stomach again, toying with his belt. He presses his lips to Harry’s ear and his voice is deep and dark. “You like that?”
“Yeah…” Harry’s amazed by how much he does like it. There’s something about it that makes him feel protected – wrapped up in Remus’ arms and losing himself in more insistent kisses. When Remus finally gets Harry’s trousers open and slides to his knees it’s all Harry can do not to shout out. The sensation of warm lips wrapped around his cock makes his knees buckle. He pushes his hands into Remus’ hair and takes in every stroke of his tongue and spit-slick kiss along the length of his cock.
When he comes, it’s with Remus’ name falling from his lips.
*
They have tea after that, sharing sugar sweet hot kisses over the table. Remus slides a casual arm across the back of Harry’s chair and they trade smiles before Harry slips into Remus’ lap, kissing him again and rocking over him.
“Will you? I want you to…do it.”
“Do it?” Remus arches an eyebrow, amused. Nevertheless, he clearly gets the point because he squeezes Harry’s backside firmly. He has another sip of his tea and swats Harry lightly on the backside. “Bed, then.”
“Okay.” Harry’s breathless, taking the stairs two at a time. He divests himself of his clothes and lies on his bed, waiting for Remus. When the door finally opens, Remus has taken off his top. His chest is streaked with light scars of the past and Harry finds he wants to run his tongue over every single one of them. He reaches for Remus who approaches with dark eyes, looking hungrily at Harry. “You’re not naked enough.”
Remus laughs, unbuckling his jeans. He pushes them down and kicks off his trousers and pants. The site of him takes Harry’s breath away. He’s lean and wiry, light sandy hair on his legs and chest. He’s toned in all the right places and his cock nestles thick and heavy between his thighs. Remus gives Harry a look and moves over him, capturing his lips in a kiss which is surprisingly sweet and tender. “Is that better?”
“Much.” Harry tugs Remus down until their cocks slide together, hardening as they kiss and rock up into one another. There’s none of the frantic urgency of before. Instead, the kisses are slow and deep. The touch of Remus’ fingers are a warm caress on Harry’s skin and every touch makes him shiver with pleasure.
Eventually, Remus reaches for the drawer and retrieves a bottle. He arches his eyebrow at Harry, the hint of a smile on his face. “Anything you want to tell me?”
The heat flares in Harry’s cheeks and he clears his throat. “It’s just for me.”
Remus groans, slicking his fingers and nipping at Harry’s thigh. “I want you to show me. One day.”
The thought of another night with Remus makes Harry’s heart pound in his chest and he nods. “Yeah, I could do that.”
The rest of Harry’s questions are pulled from him as Remus slides a finger slowly inside him. It’s unspeakably good having someone else touch him, taking control of Harry’s pleasure. The angle is much better for a start and Remus has long, confident fingers which open Harry slowly and take him apart.
Remus is thick and long and when he pushes into Harry for the first time there’s a dull ache and an intimacy in the way Remus stares at him which makes Harry cry out, his voice faltering.
“I’ve got you,” Remus says. Slow fingers stroke over Harry’s heated skin, sliding through the beads of perspiration on his body. Harry nods because he can’t quite speak, tugging Remus in closer and panting lightly into the kiss as each stroke of Remus’ cock makes him come undone.
*
It’s quiet, afterwards. The room is bathed in the silvery light of the half moon and Harry stares at it, wondering if now he’s going to start to notice every change in the moon just as Remus must.
“It’s not just for tonight, is it?” Harry’s voice catches and he keeps his head tilted away from Remus, because he doesn’t want to know before Remus tells him because of a tell-tale expression or too-long pause.
“Look at me, Harry.” Remus’ voice is quiet, firm.
Harry looks. Remus’ eyes are soft and bright, fixed on Harry. He touches his thumb to Harry’s lip and when he smiles it’s slow and reassuring.
“I just, don’t want it to be. I want it to be more.” Harry can’t mask the pleading note to his voice and Remus strokes his hair from his face.
“It’s more, cub. Whatever you want it to be.” Remus looks at him seriously. “But you’re young. If anyone deserves the opportunity to be a teenager and sow their oats it’s you. Don’t tie yourself down to a man twice your age.”
“I’m not tied to anything.” Harry swallows and he clutches Remus’ hand. “One day at a time?”
“Yes.” Remus leans close and kisses Harry. When he pulls away, Harry rests his head on Remus’ chest and closes his eyes.
“Remus?”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I have bad dreams.”
Remus’ hand tangles in Harry’s hair and tugs lightly, massaging him to sleep. “I know. Sometimes I do too.”
Harry nestles closer and falls asleep with Remus’ hand in his hair, under the still light of the autumn moon.
***
PART III: Summer, 2028
He’s glorious when he dances. White blond hair, firm thighs and clothes which leave nothing to the imagination.
“What’s your name?” Harry says, though it really should be how old are you? He stills the blond’s wandering hands, pinning them effectively to the wall and pressing close with a low hum which sends a shiver down the length of the blond’s spine. “Or should I ask how old you are, first?”
“Old enough.” The boy licks his lips, smiling brighter than the sun. “Early twenties. I’ve had older. How old are you?”
Harry snorts and he releases the boy’s hand, raking a hand through his hair and taking a step back. “Old enough to know better. Double that.”
“Yeah.” The boy smiles, coquettish. “I know. Harry, isn’t it?”
Harry’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?” He repeats it, firmer this time. He uses his Auror voice. The one he uses for people who are definitely in trouble.
“Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy.” The boy extends his hand and flashes Harry another brilliant smile. “Everyone knows who you are. I’m surprised you didn’t recognise me. Dad talks about you all the time. I’ve been in America. For, like, a hundred years.”
“For twenty-two years. He’s been in America for twenty-two years. Stop hitting on dad, Scorp. He doesn’t like that. Besides, he’s taken. I can’t be chucked out of my dad’s bar. That would be so embarrassing.”
“It’s embarrassing drinking in your dad’s bar in the first place.” Scorpius winks at Harry and slings an arm around Albus who smiles up at Harry, shifting closer to Scorpius.
“I told you he was gorgeous.”
“He’s Malfoy’s son.” Harry gives Albus a look. “Draco’s going to kill me.”
“Probably,” Scorpius says, cheerfully. “I don’t think he likes you much.” Scorpius leans closer to Albus, pressing a kiss against his throat. “I used to have Harry’s poster up for ages. I told dad nobody that fit could be a total arse. He was apoplectic.”
“You’re so weird,” Al mutters. He pulls a face at Harry but the smile on his lips signifies Al doesn’t think Scorpius is weird at all. To the contrary. Harry’s rarely seen two people looking quite so taken with each other.
“We met in a bar like this when Al was travelling. But this is better. I like London. I think I’m going to stay.” Scorpius looks around and laughs at something one of their group shouts. “I think we’re wanted. God, I love this song.”
“Me too. See you, dad.” Albus winks at Harry and lets himself be tugged away by Scorpius. Harry flicks his wand and turns up the volume on the music. Magic has its limitations and it’s not quite DJs and a thumping dancefloor, but it’s close enough. Rainbow flags hang above the door and there’s a small plaque with Harry’s name on it just outside the door.
The Full Moon Tavern est. 2010
Proprietor: Harry Potter
“You’re going to have to tell Ginny he’s taken up with a Malfoy.” Warm arms slide around Harry’s waist and he leans back with a sigh of contentment.
“She won’t mind. I never thought I’d see Ginny and Parkinson together, so stranger things have happened.” Harry closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him. Ginny’s his best friend and surrogate to his kids. He knows her better than most and he’s pretty sure she’s going to be thoroughly charmed by Scorpius.
“Should we dance?”
Harry laughs and turns in Remus’ arms, shaking his head. “I’m too old for that.”
“If you are, I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about it.” Remus pulls a face but he’s grinning, giving Harry that look – the one that still starts a fire flaming in the pit of his belly. He leans in and kisses Harry’s ear, his lips lingering just a little longer than they should.
“Drink?”
“Why not?” Harry runs his hand down Remus’ back and he leans in, his voice low and teasing. “Then I reckon we should find somewhere to sit and have a good snog.”
Remus laughs and presses a kiss to Harry’s head as they wait at the bar. He nods to a corner away from the laughter and noise of the dancefloor. The seats are comfortable and the area is bathed in purple light. “Somewhere like that?”
“Yeah.” Harry takes a sip of his rum and coke and tips his glass at Remus. “Somewhere just like that.”
As the music beats around them, Harry turns his face up to Remus and they kiss beneath the pub’s lights, because they remember and because they can.
~Fin~
Author:
writcraftPrompt: Own Prompt
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/James Potter, Remus Lupin/Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Word Count: ~6,600
Rating: NC-17
Content: Underage (17) (James and Sirius), Canon Divergence, EWE, First Times, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Handjobs
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to the mods for running this fest and for letting me participate. I wanted to write something related to Pride month. The idea of first times and Muggle bars was one I couldn’t shake. I hope anyone that’s ever disco-danced their hearts out somewhere similar enjoys the story. The 2028 bar in Diagon Alley is at the same sort of point as today’s Muggle bars. The title is from ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ by Whitney Houston.
Summary: Over the course of 50 years, three generations of Potters experience love and loss beneath the bright lights of London’s gay bars.
PART I: Summer, 1978
The air hums with music and the acrid scent of cigarette smoke fills the air around them.
“Like it?” Sirius’ eyes are dark and flashing with excitement. He grabs James’ hand and tugs, hard. “Come on, then. I want to dance.” The music thuds and thumps, disco beats reverberating from the dancefloor and vibrating against the soles of James’ feet. He looks at his too-tight brown shoes and flared trousers and pulls a face.
“I’m not dressed right. I look like an idiot. I told you I can’t do Muggle. What the hell are people wearing, anyway?”
“Whatever they like. It’s that sort of place, isn’t it?” Sirius rakes a hand through his hair and appraises a men in head to toe leather. Somehow Sirius can pull of the high-waisted, belted trousers which flare out from just below the knee. He’s all long-legged and his hip juts provocatively as he watches the crowd, deciding on his next move. “I wouldn’t mind a leather jacket, one day.”
“I’ll get you one for Christmas.”
“Don’t be mad. I’m filthy rich.” Sirius flashes James a grin and James lets it slide. They both know it’s not true at the moment – not with Sirius sleeping on the floor next to James and unable to access any of the money in his vaults. It will be true on day, though. James just hopes they both live to see it.
“Still.” James glares at his trousers and shakes his head. Stonewashed, Sirius said. They look stupid and to add insult to injury he’s got a jacket to match. It clings to his shoulders and it’s too tight and too short. He’s already itching as his shirt rubs against his neck, the collar ridiculously wide and the shirt too patterned for its own good. He misses his robes and sensible colours like black, burgundy and gold. “I look like a dickhead.”
“Don’t be soft. You’re gorgeous as ever.” Sirius smiles, wide and toothy. He puts his hands over his head and does some kind of move that James can only guess is supposed to be dancing. It’s ridiculous enough that James bursts out laughing.
“They’re not going to serve us booze. No chance.” James follows anyway because it’s Sirius, and he can’t really stop himself. The place is like nothing he’s ever been to before, dark and smoke-filled. There are men standing next to each other in shadowy corners, closer than he’s ever seen men stand before. There are women that look as though they might be men in tight dresses and thick layers of makeup. There are people dancing to the heady beat of the music and the odd American accent catches James’ attention. “Loads of Americans.”
“One or two.” Sirius gestures around, wide-armed and full of himself. “They come from New York. There must be a thousand clubs like this in America. I’m going to go, one day. You just watch me. I’m going to dance in San Francisco and fly my broom over New York.”
“We’ll go together.” James slips his hand into Sirius’ and it’s warm and firm in his own. “You, me, Moony, Wormtail and Lils.”
“Yeah.” Sirius’ smile falters but it’s so quick, James thinks he must have imagined it. “Let’s do that. The whole gang.” He releases James’ hand and leans against the bar. Somehow all it takes is a smile and Sirius returns triumphant, with two full glasses of beer. “Cheers.”
“Is this even legal?”
Sirius laughs, leans close and his breath tickles as he whispers to James – his voice low and husky. “None of it’s legal. Why do you think I suggested it?”
James’ stomach swoops perilously as Sirius stays close by his side. His palms are clammy and he takes a steadying gulp of his booze. He’s not sure if it’s the beer, Sirius or the throbbing music surrounding him as they move closer to the speakers.
Whatever it is, James isn’t sure he ever wants to leave.
“Are they…?”
“Kissing?” Sirius looks amused, his lips slick with whatever sweet cocktail they’re drinking now. James lost count after the first three. “Yeah, I suppose they are.”
“Sirius?” James swallows and looks around again. There really are a lot of men and some of them are dancing awfully closely, their shadowy forms moving together with abandon. “Where are we again?”
“Charing Cross, I think.” Sirius lights a cigarette and waves the question away, but James doesn’t miss the way the flush rises in his cheeks. “Somewhere like that.”
“Padfoot.” James growls and inches closer as someone looks him up and down. “That’s not what I mean.”
“No?” Sirius puffs on his cigarette and pulls a face when James makes it clear he’s not going to give up. “Fine, then. We’re in a gay bar. I’m a fag. Didn’t you know?”
James swallows, the word fag hard and cold against his ears. He’s heard it before, yelled out by Muggles on the streets of London. He’s heard the word whispered at school in hushed voices with dark, unforgiving expressions to match. The revelation sets something thudding deep in his chest and he’s thankful the music swallows the muted sound of his heart going at a thousand miles an hour. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“Why shouldn’t I, if it’s what I am?” Sirius’ eyes are dark, his expression thunderous. “I like blokes. You should see some of the magazines I get off on.”
James glares at Sirius. “I don’t give a fuck if you like Hippogriffs, Padfoot. It’s me. James. Don’t be a prick just because you’re scared.”
“What would you know about being scared?” Sirius pulls a face, but the anger in his tone fades away.
“Quite a bit, actually. You do know we’re about to fight a war, don’t you?” James takes a long drink of his beer and keeps close to Sirius. He’s still trying to picture it – Sirius kissing another wizard or a Muggle. He can’t seem to shake the image from his head and it sends an unexpected heat through his body.
“I know.” Sirius finally meets James’ eyes and gives him a sheepish, lop-sided grin. “I should have told you about all this. I’m sorry. Do you want to go home? I can stay by myself if you do.”
“That’s not what we do.” A flash of jealousy makes his words harder and James squeezes Sirius’ hand again. “We’re staying. You just don’t want to pay for the next round.”
“You caught me.” Sirius holds up his hand, laughing at last. It’s a moment before the laughter fades and Sirius looks at his feet, his smile faltering. “Jamie, I can’t come here with anyone else. You hear them, sometimes. Those Slytherins and their obsession with unnatural acts and impure blood. It’s not just the fact I’m a Gryffindor that made my dad burn my face off the family tree. The Muggles are nearly as bad. I read about this place and I thought it sounded…safe.”
“You’re safe with me.” James is dizzy and a person shoves past him, closing the distance between himself and Sirius. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I thought it might make things…peculiar.” Sirius stares at James, his gaze searching. His eyes drop – just for a moment – to study James’ lips. He slides his tongue over his own lips, leaving them damp and shiny. “Wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno.” James can’t seem to stop staring at Sirius. He likes Lily, he tries to remind himself. He likes soft curves, red hair that smells like oranges and wide, green eyes. He doesn’t know if it’s the music, the booze or the way Sirius smells like musky cologne and broom polish. With a low groan, rising from his throat he yanks at the stupid shirt Sirius wears like it was made for him. He tugs him close until their lips clash together, wet, searching – teeth and tongue.
It’s not his first kiss but it’s the best he’s ever had. James loses his next sentence to a broken gasp from Sirius and another deep, searching kiss. The stubble on Sirius’ chin rubs against his own and then they’re with the rest of the men in the dark shadows. They’re together, James with his back to a wall papered with flyers as the music pounds away to nothing. Sirius shoves his leg between James’ parted ones and tangles his fingers in the too-long hair James meant to get cut ages ago. He tugs until James’ head is tilted, his throat exposed to desperate, hard kisses. Sirius tugs James’ bottom lip between his teeth and kisses him over and over until they’re both dizzy with it. James rocks against Sirius as Sirius pushes his hand between them to palm at James through his trousers.
“Jamie. It’s always been you.” Sirius breathes hot and wet against James’ neck, his tongue rough as he licks a line along the column of James’ throat. “Christ. Fuck, you’re so fucking hot. Just you. Only ever you.”
James pushes aside a wave of guilt and kisses Sirius as hard as he can, to swallow back the fact he can’t respond in kind.
They curl close on the narrow bed in James’ room and slide together in the dark room, their bodies slick with perspiration.
“How do you want to do this?”
“I don’t care. Just…something.” James bites back a shout when Sirius wraps a hand around his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. “That. That.”
“Yeah?” Sirius sounds pleased, nipping a path down James’ throat and stroking slowly. “Can I taste you?”
“Fuck, yes.” James throws his arm over his eyes and hisses, nearly catching Sirius in the chin with his knee as Sirius takes him into his mouth in a slow, slick slide. It’s everything. His heart pounds with it, his nostrils filling with the familiar, woody scent of Sirius and the faint scent of sweat and sex. He tugs on Sirius’ hair when he’s close, but Sirius doesn’t stop. He keeps teasing, sucking and licking, his tongue sliding in maddening strokes over the thick line of James’ cock. It’s better than it should be; better than James deserves. “I’m going to…”
“Mmm.” Sirius hums around James and he comes with a low groan, arching into Sirius until his cock hits the back of Sirius’ throat. Sirius pushes James back onto the bed, his hand large and firm on James’ hip. He sits up eventually, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “Okay?”
“Good. It’s good.” James slides his hand around Sirius, tugging as he likes to be touched himself. Sirius pushes closer and finally he’s coming with a muffled shout against James’ hot skin, spilling himself over James’ fist.
They stay there in the darkness and wait for their breathing to settle.
“Lily,” James says.
“Not my name, darling.” Sirius tips his head to study James, his eyes dark and unfathomable.
“I love her,” James tries. He’s not sure it’s true anymore, but something deep inside his belly tells him it has to be.
“I know.” Sirius gives James a slow smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans forward and kisses James, soft, sweet and slow. “I’ve always known. A boy can dream, can’t he?”
“Yeah.” James closes his eyes and his body trembles. He clenches his hands into fists and pushes closer to Sirius because despite himself he can’t seem to let the moment go. “What’s life without dreams?”
“Not much.” Sirius tangles his hand in James’ hair, stroking him until his body stops trembling quite so hard. “Let’s make it a good one, J. A good dream.”
James sinks into the way Sirius kisses him – full of contradiction. It’s brutish and beautiful all at once.
The dream ends with a deep, sleep-warm kiss as the sun comes up.
It’s the last time James Potter ever kisses Sirius Black.
PART II: Autumn, 1998
The music is too loud. Harry isn’t sure he can take it when three people jostle past him and he has to yell over the thump, thump from the club next door to be heard. He checks his pocket again, just for good measure. His wand’s still there. Good. He can’t help but stare at the man dancing on the corner of the bar in trainers, tiny shorts and not much else.
“Evening, darling.” The man gives Harry a wink and heat rises in Harry’s cheeks. He gives the man an awkward wave which seems to delight him, his smile wide and his laugh rich. “You’re adorable.”
“Err, thanks.” Harry rakes a hand through his hair, sure the heat in his cheeks gives him away. He tears his gaze from the dancers and focuses on pushing through the throngs of people until he reaches the bar. The surface is sticky with booze and the scent of sweet shots hangs in the air. “Rum and coke, please.”
“Really?” The barman arches his eyebrow and his gaze sweeps over Harry. “Show us your ID, there’s a love.”
“ID?” Harry shuffles through his wallet until he finds the card Ron and Hermione made him, which proudly proclaims his fake student status. Engineering. Imperial College. He’s not sure why Hermione insisted on that of all things. He doesn’t know a fucking thing about engineering. “Will this do?”
The barman appraises it critically and then shrugs. “Suppose so. They’ll ask you next door if you want to go out late. They might need a passport.”
“I’ll just have to stay here for a bit, then.” Harry gives the barman his best smile and is rewarded with a snort and a rum and coke which spills over the edges of a plastic cup.
“Or you could just go through the back.” The barman points to a door where the majority of people seem to be disappearing. “Beat the queues and the bouncers that way.” He winks and a warmth slides through Harry’s veins, making him giddy.
“Of course. Thanks.” Harry wonders if he’s got first time in a gay bar tattooed on his forehead. He rubs his scar just to make sure it’s not lit up like a beacon. He watches the flex and stretch of muscular arms raised aloft and swallows thickly at the sight of men in tight vests which accentuate every line of their torsos. He takes a long swig of his drink and smiles back at a girl who’s dancing with friends in a red and black flannel shirt. She throws her head back and laughs at something her friend says, before moving closer to a good-looking blonde and dancing with swaying hips to an upbeat, poppy song which filters through from the nearby dancefloor. Harry slides his hand over his wand and lets the familiar sensation of magic pulse through his veins. A sense of freedom overwhelms him and he has to swallow back a wave of emotion.
He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s in Soho and if he’s very lucky he might even have a snog. For the first time in his life, Harry feels like a proper teenager – dancing and drinking with people just like him.
Harry contemplates the door to the club for a moment. He ignores the pull of the crowds heading to the dancefloor and finds another small room, bathed in purple light. It seems quieter there, with groups of friends huddled together and laughing. The pounding music is less intense – just the dull thump of bass which vibrates through his feet. There’s another bar with hardly any queue at all and the barman sweeps the surface with a cloth, whistling to himself and chatting to a regular sitting on a bar stool.
“Can I sit here?” Harry drops his bag on the last spare seat, next to an older man with his nose buried – somewhat strangely – in a book. Who goes to a bar on a Thursday night to read a book?
“If you like.” The man closes his book and looks up, eyes soft. “Harry.”
“Fuck.” Harry’s drink slides from his hand and Remus catches it smoothly. He gives Harry a quick look and shifts over with a pat on the seat next to him.
“Sit, Harry. We need to talk.”
“I know the risks.” Harry’s cheeks are flaming hot and the rum and coke doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s on his second and Remus is still explaining things which aren’t exactly quelling the heat in Harry’s face. “You don’t have to…you know.”
“I don’t have to remind you to be careful?” Remus takes a sip of his drink. Ale. Harry should have gone straight into the club and danced like an idiot. He’s pretty sure it would have been better than having an awkward chat with Remus. “I assume you’ve come prepared?”
Harry splutters on his drink and he puts it down, glaring at Remus. “I’ve come out to dance.” He does a little shift in his seat to make the point, but Remus just looks a bit pitying. “I just wanted to have a drink and a snog. Is that such an issue?”
“No.” Remus shakes his head and he stares ahead for a moment, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “I was worried.”
“Why?.” Harry fights against his instinct to rail against Remus. The familiar sense of being suffocated crawls across his skin until his whole body itches with it. He clenches his hands into fists, discomfort snaking through his veins and making his hands hot and clammy. “I’m in Muggle London for a reason. I don’t want Professors telling me what I’m supposed to do or not do, bloody hell. I just want to have fun. Who told you I was coming here?”
Remus winces and he rakes a hand through his hair. His gaze flicks to Harry. “It might have come up over dinner with Molly.”
“With Molly?” Harry groans and he drops his head in his hands, muffling his voice. “I’m going to kill Ron.”
“For the record I don’t think he meant to let it slip.” Remus pats Harry’s shoulder. His voice is warm and he sounds amused.
“Did Molly tell you to come and find me?” Harry raises his head and glares at Remus. “I bet you all discussed coming to get me to make sure I don’t accidentally have a bit of fun with a Muggle bloke.”
Remus flushes, a light pink tinging his cheeks. “Nobody told me to come. I decided to of my own accord. I thought it might help to know there’s someone you can speak to if you like. Someone who understands.”
“Oh.” Harry stops at that, staring at Remus. “Really?”
“Yes, Harry. Really.” The corner of Remus’ mouth lifts and the way he stares at Harry is warm and intense. There’s something else behind his eyes – the flicker of something darker – possessive. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“S’alright.” Harry shrugs, tearing at a beermat. He can’t quite look at Remus anymore. “You bought a book.” Harry hopes he sounds as horrified as he is. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, his jaw clenching. He takes a long gulp of his drink. It’s sweet and soothing. “You sat here and read a bloody book because you think I can’t even be trusted to have a shag.”
Remus lets out a low growl and he presses close to Harry, his breath hot in Harry’s ear. “I trust you, I just don’t trust them. Not until I know you have all the information you need to protect yourself from diseases and situations even being a wizard can’t cure. Without your father or Sirius here I thought I should…warn you. I’ve had Muggle friends, Harry. I’ve lost people I’ve loved. I won’t lose you too.”
Harry swallows. There’s something about the way Remus’ breath tickles his ear that sends fire flickering in his belly. He shakes his head, trying to think clearly. “If you’re talking about sex, I know what to do. Hermione got me a book.” He takes his wallet from his pocket and pushes it across the table to Remus. “Go on, then.”
Remus opens the wallet and a dark cloud flickers over his features before he closes it again. He looks away, his jaw working. When he looks at Harry again, his expression is calmer and his lips twitch in a small smile which doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well, then. I needn’t have worried.”
“No.” Harry pulls a face and finishes his drink. “There’s really no need.” He’s conscious of the way Remus’ leg presses against his own and the warmth from the gentle pressure. He should probably move, but despite his initial frustration he’s not unhappy to see a familiar face.
“Then I’ll go. Leave you to it.” Remus drops his hand on Harry’s, giving it a brief squeeze. The touch sends a spark of warmth across Harry’s skin and he has to swallow to keep his voice even and steady.
“Don’t.” He looks up, trying to read the peculiar look in Remus’ eyes. “I don’t mind. We could just have another drink.”
“We could.” Remus looks uncertain, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something before he presses his lips into a tight line. “I should tell you I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Don’t really care.” Harry grins, his anger leaving him. “Neither am I. Besides, I don’t know any of the songs. Muggle radios don’t work in Grimmauld Place.”
“Same again?” Remus makes to stand and Harry puts a hand on his arm, stilling him.
“Can I? I want to.”
Remus stares at Harry’s hand on his arm before he nods, tightly. “Go on, then.”
“Okay.” Harry makes his way to the bar and when he looks back, Remus is watching him with the strangest look in his eyes.
“What does it feel like?” Harry’s that warm, comfortable sort of pissed that makes him talk more freely. He’s inched closer to Remus and their legs are now pressed together from hip to ankle. If he tilted his head just a bit he could almost relax onto Remus’ shoulder. Two men are snogging in the corner and Harry can’t help but stare at them, swiping his tongue over his lips and wondering what it might feel like.
“Kissing?” Remus looks at the men briefly, then back at Harry.
“Nope.” Harry looks up and he meets Remus’ eyes. “The rest.”
“Oh.” Remus clears his throat and his eyes darken as he stares at Harry, soft and quiet. “I’m not sure I should…”
“You said you trusted me.” Harry tips his chin and firms his jaw. He hopes he sounds as determined as he is. It’s suddenly imperative he knows exactly what it feels like. The thought of warm fingers stroking along his spine makes him shiver. His voice only shakes a little bit when he nudges Remus with his foot. “Tell me, will you? Otherwise, I’m just going to dance.”
Remus stares at Harry for so long Harry’s almost about to leave, before Remus settles his hand on Harry’s leg. He squeezes and Harry has to bite back a groan. “You’d be better with someone you trust. It’s always more satisfying than a quick grope against the wall.”
“I bet.” Harry tries to imagine doing that with someone who doesn’t know the first thing about his life and the thought is both appealing and not. “I’m hardly going to be able to bring a Muggle back to Grimmauld Place, though. I don’t even know where to start with wizards. There’s nowhere like this place.”
“No,” Remus says. His expression is cloudy. “In this we’re further behind than the Muggles, I’m afraid. We have precious few people invested in fighting for the cause when we’ve had so many other battles to focus on.”
Harry frowns at that and places his hand on Remus’. Slowly, Remus turns his hand until his palm faces upwards and their fingers twine together.
“I trust you. I could bring you back to Grimmauld Place.” The words spill from Harry’s lips and he clutches onto Remus as if he’s never going to let go. “You could show me, maybe. Instead of tell me.”
“Harry.” Remus’ voice is rough, catching in his throat. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m not the man you might expect me to be. Not when I’m like that.”
Harry presses closer and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Then tell me.”
Remus slides his hand out of Harry’s, pausing before sliding his fingers into Harry’s hair.
He leans close enough that Harry shivers under the sensation of warm breath tickling his neck.
Remus talks.
The kiss seems to take Remus by surprise which it really shouldn’t, considering the way Harry’s body has been reacting to every word falling from Remus’ lips. He shouldn’t be as hard as he is from words like rough and desire and the suggestion of a period of intense possessiveness and heightened sensation just around the full moon. He shouldn’t be thickening in his jeans when he’s close enough for Remus to catch the scent of him on his nostrils. He shouldn’t be thinking like this at all about Remus.
There’s something so compelling and magnetic about the way Remus talks in a husky voice and whispers in Harry’s ear. He suspects Remus expects to scare him off, but all Harry feels is safe. Warm, safe and bloody horny.
He tangles his hands in Remus’ hair and nearly launches himself at him, kissing him fiercely. “Please…”
“Harry…” Remus pulls back, his eyes wide. For a moment, Harry thinks he’s going to push Harry away. Instead, he slides his hand into Harry’s hair and lets out a low growl which slides through Harry’s veins and makes him shiver. “You’re a menace.”
“I know.” Harry smiles against Remus’ lips and then they’re kissing as the strobe lights flicker around them and the music pulses from the floor through their bodies.
They don’t talk at all as they try to find a spot which isn’t full of people to Apparate from. Eventually, Harry tugs Remus down a deserted alley and they’re twisting through the air to Grimmauld Place.
“Here we are.”
“Yes.” Remus studies Harry as he opens the door with a flick of his wand and a slight tremble in his hands. “Perhaps you should put the kettle on.”
“Really?” Harry closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. He frowns at Remus, stuffing his wand into his pocket. “You want to drink tea? Now?”
Remus groans and mutters something under his breath. He takes a step closer to Harry, sliding his fingers along the lines of Harry’s jaw. He licks his lips and when he speaks, his voice is gruff and hoarse. “Not particularly. I am…slowing things down.”
“Oh.” Harry can’t help but lean into Remus’ touch. “Well, don’t. I mean, unless you want to.”
“I’m far too old for you. Your father was one of my closest friends.”
“At least we know mum and dad would have liked you.” Harry gives Remus a smile which he hopes will get them back to the kissing again. He liked the kissing. He turns his head and places a light kiss on Remus’ finger. His lips part and he slides his tongue experimentally over the length of it. Remus has long, sure fingers and there’s something deliciously filthy about sliding them into his mouth and sucking lightly.
“Christ.” Remus lets out a growl and then he’s pulling Harry close again and – finally – kissing him. He backs Harry into the wall and shoves his hands over his head, kissing and biting down the line of his throat as if he can’t quite stop touching Harry. Harry jerks forward as he feels the brush of Remus hardening in his trousers, pressing against his body. He groans into the fierce kiss and he tugs at Remus’
clothes.
“You went Muggle.”
“Yes.” Remus smiles against Harry’s lips, a low chuckle falling from his lips. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans and it leaves Harry breathless.
“You’re really fit. Why did I never notice?”
“Because it would have been completely inappropriate, cub.” Remus nips at Harry’s lip and slides warm fingers beneath Harry’s t-shirt to stroke over his stomach. The affectionate term makes Harry’s breath catch in his throat and he winds his arms around Remus’ neck and arches into the touch. Remus hums into the kiss and strokes over Harry’s stomach again, toying with his belt. He presses his lips to Harry’s ear and his voice is deep and dark. “You like that?”
“Yeah…” Harry’s amazed by how much he does like it. There’s something about it that makes him feel protected – wrapped up in Remus’ arms and losing himself in more insistent kisses. When Remus finally gets Harry’s trousers open and slides to his knees it’s all Harry can do not to shout out. The sensation of warm lips wrapped around his cock makes his knees buckle. He pushes his hands into Remus’ hair and takes in every stroke of his tongue and spit-slick kiss along the length of his cock.
When he comes, it’s with Remus’ name falling from his lips.
They have tea after that, sharing sugar sweet hot kisses over the table. Remus slides a casual arm across the back of Harry’s chair and they trade smiles before Harry slips into Remus’ lap, kissing him again and rocking over him.
“Will you? I want you to…do it.”
“Do it?” Remus arches an eyebrow, amused. Nevertheless, he clearly gets the point because he squeezes Harry’s backside firmly. He has another sip of his tea and swats Harry lightly on the backside. “Bed, then.”
“Okay.” Harry’s breathless, taking the stairs two at a time. He divests himself of his clothes and lies on his bed, waiting for Remus. When the door finally opens, Remus has taken off his top. His chest is streaked with light scars of the past and Harry finds he wants to run his tongue over every single one of them. He reaches for Remus who approaches with dark eyes, looking hungrily at Harry. “You’re not naked enough.”
Remus laughs, unbuckling his jeans. He pushes them down and kicks off his trousers and pants. The site of him takes Harry’s breath away. He’s lean and wiry, light sandy hair on his legs and chest. He’s toned in all the right places and his cock nestles thick and heavy between his thighs. Remus gives Harry a look and moves over him, capturing his lips in a kiss which is surprisingly sweet and tender. “Is that better?”
“Much.” Harry tugs Remus down until their cocks slide together, hardening as they kiss and rock up into one another. There’s none of the frantic urgency of before. Instead, the kisses are slow and deep. The touch of Remus’ fingers are a warm caress on Harry’s skin and every touch makes him shiver with pleasure.
Eventually, Remus reaches for the drawer and retrieves a bottle. He arches his eyebrow at Harry, the hint of a smile on his face. “Anything you want to tell me?”
The heat flares in Harry’s cheeks and he clears his throat. “It’s just for me.”
Remus groans, slicking his fingers and nipping at Harry’s thigh. “I want you to show me. One day.”
The thought of another night with Remus makes Harry’s heart pound in his chest and he nods. “Yeah, I could do that.”
The rest of Harry’s questions are pulled from him as Remus slides a finger slowly inside him. It’s unspeakably good having someone else touch him, taking control of Harry’s pleasure. The angle is much better for a start and Remus has long, confident fingers which open Harry slowly and take him apart.
Remus is thick and long and when he pushes into Harry for the first time there’s a dull ache and an intimacy in the way Remus stares at him which makes Harry cry out, his voice faltering.
“I’ve got you,” Remus says. Slow fingers stroke over Harry’s heated skin, sliding through the beads of perspiration on his body. Harry nods because he can’t quite speak, tugging Remus in closer and panting lightly into the kiss as each stroke of Remus’ cock makes him come undone.
It’s quiet, afterwards. The room is bathed in the silvery light of the half moon and Harry stares at it, wondering if now he’s going to start to notice every change in the moon just as Remus must.
“It’s not just for tonight, is it?” Harry’s voice catches and he keeps his head tilted away from Remus, because he doesn’t want to know before Remus tells him because of a tell-tale expression or too-long pause.
“Look at me, Harry.” Remus’ voice is quiet, firm.
Harry looks. Remus’ eyes are soft and bright, fixed on Harry. He touches his thumb to Harry’s lip and when he smiles it’s slow and reassuring.
“I just, don’t want it to be. I want it to be more.” Harry can’t mask the pleading note to his voice and Remus strokes his hair from his face.
“It’s more, cub. Whatever you want it to be.” Remus looks at him seriously. “But you’re young. If anyone deserves the opportunity to be a teenager and sow their oats it’s you. Don’t tie yourself down to a man twice your age.”
“I’m not tied to anything.” Harry swallows and he clutches Remus’ hand. “One day at a time?”
“Yes.” Remus leans close and kisses Harry. When he pulls away, Harry rests his head on Remus’ chest and closes his eyes.
“Remus?”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I have bad dreams.”
Remus’ hand tangles in Harry’s hair and tugs lightly, massaging him to sleep. “I know. Sometimes I do too.”
Harry nestles closer and falls asleep with Remus’ hand in his hair, under the still light of the autumn moon.
PART III: Summer, 2028
He’s glorious when he dances. White blond hair, firm thighs and clothes which leave nothing to the imagination.
“What’s your name?” Harry says, though it really should be how old are you? He stills the blond’s wandering hands, pinning them effectively to the wall and pressing close with a low hum which sends a shiver down the length of the blond’s spine. “Or should I ask how old you are, first?”
“Old enough.” The boy licks his lips, smiling brighter than the sun. “Early twenties. I’ve had older. How old are you?”
Harry snorts and he releases the boy’s hand, raking a hand through his hair and taking a step back. “Old enough to know better. Double that.”
“Yeah.” The boy smiles, coquettish. “I know. Harry, isn’t it?”
Harry’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?” He repeats it, firmer this time. He uses his Auror voice. The one he uses for people who are definitely in trouble.
“Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy.” The boy extends his hand and flashes Harry another brilliant smile. “Everyone knows who you are. I’m surprised you didn’t recognise me. Dad talks about you all the time. I’ve been in America. For, like, a hundred years.”
“For twenty-two years. He’s been in America for twenty-two years. Stop hitting on dad, Scorp. He doesn’t like that. Besides, he’s taken. I can’t be chucked out of my dad’s bar. That would be so embarrassing.”
“It’s embarrassing drinking in your dad’s bar in the first place.” Scorpius winks at Harry and slings an arm around Albus who smiles up at Harry, shifting closer to Scorpius.
“I told you he was gorgeous.”
“He’s Malfoy’s son.” Harry gives Albus a look. “Draco’s going to kill me.”
“Probably,” Scorpius says, cheerfully. “I don’t think he likes you much.” Scorpius leans closer to Albus, pressing a kiss against his throat. “I used to have Harry’s poster up for ages. I told dad nobody that fit could be a total arse. He was apoplectic.”
“You’re so weird,” Al mutters. He pulls a face at Harry but the smile on his lips signifies Al doesn’t think Scorpius is weird at all. To the contrary. Harry’s rarely seen two people looking quite so taken with each other.
“We met in a bar like this when Al was travelling. But this is better. I like London. I think I’m going to stay.” Scorpius looks around and laughs at something one of their group shouts. “I think we’re wanted. God, I love this song.”
“Me too. See you, dad.” Albus winks at Harry and lets himself be tugged away by Scorpius. Harry flicks his wand and turns up the volume on the music. Magic has its limitations and it’s not quite DJs and a thumping dancefloor, but it’s close enough. Rainbow flags hang above the door and there’s a small plaque with Harry’s name on it just outside the door.
The Full Moon Tavern est. 2010
Proprietor: Harry Potter
“You’re going to have to tell Ginny he’s taken up with a Malfoy.” Warm arms slide around Harry’s waist and he leans back with a sigh of contentment.
“She won’t mind. I never thought I’d see Ginny and Parkinson together, so stranger things have happened.” Harry closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him. Ginny’s his best friend and surrogate to his kids. He knows her better than most and he’s pretty sure she’s going to be thoroughly charmed by Scorpius.
“Should we dance?”
Harry laughs and turns in Remus’ arms, shaking his head. “I’m too old for that.”
“If you are, I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about it.” Remus pulls a face but he’s grinning, giving Harry that look – the one that still starts a fire flaming in the pit of his belly. He leans in and kisses Harry’s ear, his lips lingering just a little longer than they should.
“Drink?”
“Why not?” Harry runs his hand down Remus’ back and he leans in, his voice low and teasing. “Then I reckon we should find somewhere to sit and have a good snog.”
Remus laughs and presses a kiss to Harry’s head as they wait at the bar. He nods to a corner away from the laughter and noise of the dancefloor. The seats are comfortable and the area is bathed in purple light. “Somewhere like that?”
“Yeah.” Harry takes a sip of his rum and coke and tips his glass at Remus. “Somewhere just like that.”
As the music beats around them, Harry turns his face up to Remus and they kiss beneath the pub’s lights, because they remember and because they can.
~Fin~
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no subject
Date: 2016-06-22 06:00 am (UTC)James and Sirius kind of broke my heart.
And somehow Remus and Harry made me grin like a loon.
Excellent job! I really enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-22 02:41 pm (UTC)And then Harry and Remus, and omg, how perfect it is that Remus is reading a book. God! :D I love the way he started to feel about Remus's closeness, but wait, I love how alarmed he was about being followed in the first place. :D I love he thought he had freedom and how he felt, but I love Remus was there to watch [over] him.
But yeah, Remus closeness, loved how he felt, and I love how this scene developed to something so much more, life-changing even.
And the last one with Scorpius and Albus, that was just so much fun. :D
Ohh, so much love for the name of the bar. <3
This was gorgeous, different emotions in each generation. Very well done. I loved it. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2016-06-23 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-24 07:39 pm (UTC)The Sirius and James part was just so heartbreaking but also so very beautiful at the same time!
And Remus and Harry, wow what a breathtaking relationship filled with such hot sex. Yum!
I love how in the end everyone has found their happiness and a place to belong. Truly a gorgeous piece of fiction!
no subject
Date: 2016-06-27 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-30 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-03 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-11 12:37 am (UTC)“Be careful what you wish for. I’m not the man you might expect me to be. Not when I’m like that.”
*moans* :D
no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:32 am (UTC)Anyway, I'm so glad you enjoyed the story, thank you for taking the time to read it and leave such a lovely comment. My favourite bit was the James/Sirius so I'm so pleased that worked for you. I had a lot of fun writing Harry/Remus as it's a new pairing for me and also enjoyed hinting at the Al/Scorpius. I am so glad the different emotions of the generations came through as I was looking for that contrast in the three experiences.
<33
no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 08:39 am (UTC)So glad you enjoyed the story, sorry for the somewhat tardy response to your comment.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-29 05:49 pm (UTC)