Title: A Picture’s Worth 1,000 Excuses/Pictures at an Exhibition(ist)

Author: Eumenides

Pairing: RL/HP/SB

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Slash (duh), incest if you think of Harry & Sirius as having a father/son relationship.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: First, about the title. The first title was the working title for the story. Then Mysid posted the wonderful "A Picture's Worth 1,000 Lies" and I decided to change the title to avoid confusion. Mysid graciously said it didn't matter if I used a similar title, so I decided to list both.

Now, about the story. This story started out as a bit of fluff with Harry and Sirius and some pictures. Then Remus asked if he could to play too, and by the way, could he resolve some relationship issues he had with Sirius? I had to say yes – who can say no to Moony? So we now have two bits of fluff bracketing some drama. Which if you think about it, is a lot like life: fluff, drama, fluff. Unless you are unlucky, in which case it's drama, fluff, drama. Whatever. Enjoy.

A Picture's Worth 1000 Excuses

"These are really nice rooms, Harry," Sirius Black said, while looking out Harry Potter’s new window at the phenomenal view of the Chudley Cannons’ practise pitch.

"Thanks, Sirius. I’m not sure what it’ll be like, though, sharing with someone other than Ron and Dean and Seamus and Neville."

Sirius chuckled. "I know what you mean. It took me six months to get used to not hearing James’s snoring every night."

"It wasn’t James who snored, Sirius, it was you. As I well recall from the days we shared a flat without James and Peter." Remus Lupin smiled up from his seat at Harry’s new desk.

"I never snore, Moony. I am the perfect flatmate." Sirius said indignantly.

Remus snorted. "If by ‘perfect’ you mean someone who leaves dirty dishes all over, can’t turn off lights and uses their wand to accio wank mags from the corner store-"

Sirius turned scarlet. "That was a long time ago! Give it a rest."

Harry smiled. It was good to see his godfather happy. Even though his name had been cleared at the end of the war when Peter Pettigrew, very much alive, had been arrested, many people still didn’t trust Sirius, and he never seemed to let down his guard and relax. Even now, some of his new roommates’ families were giving Sirius suspicious looks as they unpacked bags and put away gear.

"Harry, your dad would be so proud of you. He knew before you were six months old that someday you’d be a professional Quidditch player."

"Yes, and so were you, Sirius. Do you remember that time you took Harry out on your Cleansweep? I thought Lily was going to have herself a nice Padfoot-skin rug."

"Hey, I didn’t drop him. Your mother-" he said, turning to smile at Harry. "Your mum had a very warped sense of priorities. She thought you should learn to walk before you got your first broom."

"Imagine that," said Remus dryly.

Harry still didn’t quite believe that he was actually on the Chudley Cannons, even if as only a reserve Seeker. He was lodging in the Cannons training facility along with three other young men. And they were very nice rooms. Only one thing would make them nicer.

"Sirius?"

"Hm?" Sirius was hanging Harry’s practise robes in the wardrobe.

"Could I have some pictures of you, please?"

"You’ve got pictures of me, Harry," Sirius replied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Oh right, that picture of you at my parents’ wedding. I don’t think that counts – it’s a picture of them and you’re just stuck in as an afterthought."

Sirius pretended to be hurt. "So, I’m an afterthought, am I? What about the pictures we found at Grimmauld Place?"

"Padfoot, you were ten years old in those, and Regulus was in most of them. I doubt that Harry wants to hang pictures of Regulus in his room," Remus objected.

"Come on, Sirius," Harry persisted, "everybody else will have snaps of their families. What am I supposed to hang, pictures of Dudley?" He shuddered at the thought. "When I was at Hogwarts, I couldn’t have your photos up because you were on the run, but now? Come on, please?"

Sirius was now looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I’ll see what I can do, okay?"

Harry wasn’t really satisfied. The answer seemed too close to a brush-off, but he recognized that it was the best he was likely to get.

Remus changed the subject. "Show us the pitch, why don’t you, Harry?" and forgetting the photographs for a time, Harry happily led his family out to the field.

"Nice work today, Potter!"

"Thanks, David," Harry replied, feeling warmth spread through his body. Team captain David McInerny rarely complimented anyone, but Harry knew that he had done well that day, and every day, for that matter. He loved playing Quidditch. When he was on his broom, nobody cared about his scar, or Voldemort, or anything - except whether he could catch the snitch.

He was making friends with the other players, he was playing well and he’d been seriously considering asking Beater Nigel Smyth for a date. Everything was perfect, except for one small detail. Sirius had yet to send him any pictures.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. After his third reminder (which had threatened a Howler to follow if no pictures were forthcoming), Harry had received a packet of photos of a sort. He was hoping that he could get some kind of explanation from Remus when they met for lunch that day.

Harry floo’ed in to the Leaky Cauldron where Remus was already waiting for him, nursing a pint. "Hello Harry," he said. "How’s Quidditch?"

"Quidditch is great," Harry said shortly, signaling Tom to bring him a pint. "Can you explain these?" He plopped a stack of wizarding photos in front of his former professor.

"Hm," Lupin raised his eyebrows and began to go through the pictures. "This one is Sirius and James after they won the Quidditch cup Sixth Year – both quite intoxicated, I think. This one is Sirius standing outside our first flat. It was over Quality Quidditch Supplies, as you see. And this one. Oh my." Remus stopped. "This one is Sirius’s not so subtle way of telling you we were a couple before he went to Azkaban."

‘This’ was a picture of a young Sirius Black, absolutely stark naked, kissing an equally bare Remus Lupin.

"I’d love to know who took that picture," Harry commented.

"No, you wouldn’t." Lupin replied and quickly put the Quidditch picture back on the top of the stack as Tom came over with Harry's pint.

"Hallo, Mr. Potter! How are you?" Tom asked, beaming that the famous Harry Potter was frequenting his establishment.

"Quite well, thank you Tom." Harry's voice was friendly, but he spoke in a tone that indicated that now was not a good time to catch up. Tom, good barkeep that he was, got the hint.

"I'll leave you to it then, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin." He nodded at Remus.

"Are you still a couple, then?" Harry persisted.

"Would it bother you if we were?"

Harry considered briefly. "No. I like thinking that Sirius isn’t alone. So are you?"

Remus sighed. "Not as such. It’s complicated, Harry, and I don’t know if you really want to hear the whole story."

"Would you have told my dad?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes. I would have. I need to stop thinking of you as a child." Lupin was silent for a moment. "Well, the long and short of it is that after Sirius escaped and I discovered the truth, we considered trying to get back together. There was a lot of bad feelings and mistrust on both our parts, and we agreed that our energies were better spent fighting Voldemort, so we pushed our personal issues to the back burner until he was defeated."

"But now-" Harry prompted.

"But now Sirius seems to have a thousand excuses as to why we can’t even discuss it. The time is never right, he’s always got to go somewhere or do something."

"Do you think there’s someone else?" Harry asked.

Remus put his head in his hands. "No. I wish it were that simple. I think it has more to do with the reason he won’t give you any current pictures."

"I don’t understand," said Harry.

Remus pulled the stack of pictures back out. "What do you see when you look at these?"

"I see Sirius when he was about my age," Harry answered, frowning. He didn’t know where Remus was going with this.

"And how does he look?" Remus prompted.

"Gorgeous. Handsome. Dead sexy." Harry said.

"And how does Sirius look now?"

Harry paused, then said, quite honestly, "Gorgeous. Handsome. Dead sexy."

Remus shook his head. "But that’s not what he sees. He looks in his mirror and sees what time and Azkaban and the war and the Veil have left of this handsome young man. And he feels inadequate and inferior. He knows he's not the man he used to be."

"But that’s absolute rot!"

"I agree with you. But I can’t seem to make him see it."

Harry sat playing with his pint, considering. "I’ve got an idea. I just need to know two things. First, do you have a camera, and second, how do you feel about threesomes?"

"Remind me again why we’re doing this?" Sirius groaned as he hauled another large stack of roof tiles up the ladder.

"Because the roof leaks, Padfoot." Remus answered matter-of-factly, looking down from his perch on the roof of their cottage.

"No, why we aren’t using magic. I could be relaxing in the garden with a pint of beer, you know." Sirius plopped the shingles down next to Remus and wiped his brow. "I am too damned old for this."

"Quit whinging. Harry isn’t complaining, and it isn’t even his roof."

"Harry is eighteen years old and built like a Greek god. He probably hasn’t even broken a sweat. And don’t dodge my question about magic."

"I happen to think you look like a Greek god too, Padfoot."

"Yeah, Bacchus. Anyway, as I was saying?"

Remus stifled a laugh. "No magic. This is a Muggle neighborhood, and in Muggle neighborhoods roof shingles don’t fly."

"Well, they should," Sirius replied gruffly, climbing onto the roof to take up a hammer.

Harry was below, effortlessly chucking the old shingles into the back of a lorry he had borrowed from a teammate. Sirius had been correct; he had yet to break a sweat.

"God, he’s gorgeous,' he said absently.

Harry bent over for another stack of shingles. Sirius’s eyes fixed on the younger man’s firm arse. Remus smiled. "You know he’s gay, don’t you Sirius?"

"Fuck!" Sirius’s hammer had missed its target and slammed into his finger. Remus smile broadened. Harry’s plan was going to work.

Two hours later, the light was starting to fade and the two older men climbed down the ladder. Sirius was rubbing his neck and shoulders. Remus, who had spent most of the day on the roof, was a bit sunburned but otherwise no worse for the wear. All according to the plan. And now, it was Harry’s turn.

"Here Sirius, drink up." Harry handed his godfather a beer, which he downed happily.

"Thanks." He reached back to rub at his shoulders again. "I knew I was out of shape, but this is ridiculous."

"Here, let me," said Harry, as he pushed Sirius into a kitchen chair and began deftly massaging his shoulders.

Sirius groaned. "God, that feels good. How’d you learn to do this?"

"Quidditch is hard on the muscles, and only the star players get professional massages. The rest of us have to work on each other. You’re really tense." Harry's hands continued to work his shoulders. "Listen, Sirius, why don’t you lie down? I’ll have better access to your muscles that way."

There was a reason why he shouldn’t, but Harry’s hands felt so good, and with the slight buzz he was experiencing, it seemed only natural to follow Harry into the back bedroom. He felt hands tugging at his shirt.

"Come on, let’s take it off. I can’t give a proper massage through cloth." Sirius complied without argument, stretching out across the bed. He felt Harry straddle him, felt those wonderful hands slick with some kind of oil rubbing and squeezing, running up and down his spine, sometimes firm, sometimes light, butterfly touches that made him tingle all over. He was dimly aware that Remus was in the room, sitting in an armchair watching, and part of him thought that odd, but the hands kept working him, teasing him, moving up and down and higher and lower and –

"Harry?" He asked as Harry’s hands cupped the cheeks of his arse.

"Yes, Sirius?"

"That’s not my back."

"I know that. Shut up and relax."

So he did. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like this, and he knew he was hard as rock. But still, his jeans were on, no damage done, and he could always wank later and –

Remus muttered something, and he felt his remaining garments vanish.

Sirius groaned as Harry’s oil-slicked hands caressed his arse, his thumbs ghosting over the cleft. He spread his legs slightly, and Harry’s hand slipped forward, pressing up into Sirius’s perineum, fingering his balls, which tightened in response.

"Roll over, Sirius," Harry said, his voice trembling. Sirius complied without thinking. He had fallen down the rabbit hole, or he had fainted from exhaustion and this was a dream, a sweet, wonderful dream. When he turned face up, his cock, which had been trapped between his body and the mattress, sprang fully erect.

"Beautiful, so beautiful," Harry murmured, and he slid down between Sirius’s legs and his tongue swirled lightly over the top, licking up the droplets of pre-come that had appeared there. Harry licked up the length of him, teasing with lips and tongue while Sirius gasped and moaned, bringing his hands to lightly rest on Harry’s silky dark head.

"More, please," he pleaded, and Harry opened his throat and took in all of Sirius’s hard length, sucking him down to the root. Sirius opened his legs wide, and Harry’s hands were working his balls, rhythmically pushing up into his perineum. Sirius closed his eyes, feeling his arousal building, seeing lights flash in front of his eyes. Then a new sensation – a hand, pulling and pinching at his nipple. He gasped with the pleasure of it, and his mouth was closed by a kiss. How could Harry have two mouths? The kiss was warm and achingly familiar, and the sensation of tongue on tongue, the hand on his nipple and mouth and cock and balls merged and built and his orgasm broke over him and he came hard, down Harry’s throat, feeling the younger man swallowing him down.

He gasped and shuddered, and when Harry withdrew, he opened his eyes, and saw Remus, whose mouth bore the marks of being well kissed. Sirius tried to sit up, but Remus’s hand on his chest gently pressed him back down to the bed. "Remus, we’re…we’re not supposed to…we agreed not to…"

"Shh. Just relax, enjoy." Remus said, and he lay down beside Sirius, and gently pushed him over onto his side, away from him. "Roll over onto your belly, Padfoot." As he complied, he felt Harry spreading his legs, felt that same slick finger probing gently at his entrance. Sirius tensed – it had been a very, very long time since he had been breached in this way. But the finger worked gently, penetrating lightly, then pushing further in as Sirius relaxed to take it.

Harry’s finger moved rhythmically in and out of him, pushing deeper each time till it brushed his prostate and Sirius frantically humped at the mattress. Then the digit was gone, to be replaced by two fingers working him, stretching him, preparing him. He opened to the probing, eagerly pushing against the sweet intrusion. Dimly, he heard Harry and Remus talking.

"…what we agreed on, Harry, I really think you…"

"No, you know you want…please."

Then silence, and the fingers withdrew, leaving him empty and gasping. Then he felt his hips drawn up, and a cock, Harry’s cock, he thought, amazed, slick with oil, entered him, just the tip, teasing his aperture.

"More?" He heard a voice ask him, and he nodded his assent. "Oh yes, please, more, fill me up, break me in fucking half!"

“"Oh, yes." He heard, and felt himself stretching to take the full length of Harry’s cock. He felt the weight of a man on his back, and the cock inside him was angled just right, and every stroke was so good, it had been so long, too long. Then a hand slipped under him to wrap around his own stiff prick, miraculously hard again, and then a mouth was on his neck, biting him lightly, and a rough voice, so familiar, so loving, said, "Mine, all mine."

And he knew it was Moony riding him, not Harry, but it was all right, it was more than all right, and he saw those same lights in his eyes, and before he could stop himself, he gasped out, "Yours, yes, Moony, all yours, always." And the words drove Remus over the edge and he came, spilling his seed deep inside his lover, who followed moments later, slicking the bed and his belly and Moony’s hand with his seed.

Sirius must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew he was laying spooned up in Remus’s arms, and Harry was sitting in the armchair, smiling at them.

"Harry," he croaked. "I don’t know what to say."

"I think Harry needs to come, Padfoot. Would you like me to take care of that, Harry? Or would you rather have Sirius do it?" Remus asked.

Harry’s breath caught. He obviously hadn’t been expecting this. "This isn’t about me. What do you want, Sirius?"

Down the rabbit hole indeed. "I would like to see Remus suck you off. Would that be okay?"

Harry looked at Remus. "More than okay." He was breathing hard. "I don’t imagine it will take very long."

Remus kissed Sirius gently behind the ear, and pulled a blanket over him. "Enjoy the show, love." He rose and knelt in front of Harry, and slowly began to undo the buttons on his trouser placket.

"Too slow," Harry pleaded, and pushing Remus’s hands aside, had his trousers and pants off in seconds. Sirius could see that his cock was painfully erect, and it was thick, very thick. Not as long as Remus, but much thicker, and he thought about what it would be like to be penetrated by that thickness. And then he couldn’t see it any longer because Remus had dispensed with any preliminaries and had taken Harry fully into his mouth and the only sounds were the rhythmic noises of the suction and Harry’s breathing.

"God, Remus, yes. Please, deeper, God. Your tongue, sweet Jesus, your tongue. Fuck, so good." Harry’s eyes were closed and his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair and he fucked Remus’s mouth. "Can’t hold back, can’t wait."

'Don’t wait, Harry, come for me. Come for Remus, for us. You're so fucking hot. Sirius urged. Sirius watched as a look of pure pleasure contorted his godson’s face, and the young man thrust violently into Remus’s mouth. He could hear Remus swallowing, and remembered only too well how wonderful his partner was at oral gratification. He closed his eyes, capturing the moment.

He was dimly aware of Harry and Remus talking again, then heard the sound of a door closing. Alone again, he thought, resignedly. He opened his eyes, and Remus dressed in pyjama bottoms and sitting in the armchair again, was watching him with an odd expression on his face.

"Harry thought we needed some time to talk, so he’s gone to run a few errands then he’s staying the night with Ron. He’ll be back tomorrow morning," he said. "I imagine you have a few questions."

Sirius nodded. "You might say that. I thought we agreed that it wasn’t the right time to reconsider our relationship?"

"We didn't agree. You insisted. And this doesn’t have to change anything. This can just be a pleasant memory for you."

"And for you?"

Remus looked down at his hands. "I won't hold try to hold you to what you said during sex, Sirius."

Sirius knew immediately what he meant. "But I am yours. Even if we never touch again, that won't change. Hell, Moony, you know there's no one else, never has been."

Remus stood and walked to the window, looking out at the night. "Sirius, if I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the absolute truth?"

"Yes, always."

"Do you love me?"

Sirius responded immediately. "Of course – you’re my best friend."

"No," Remus shook his head. "That’s not what I meant and you know it. Take your time, think about it, and answer honestly. I need to know."

Sirius knew that Remus wouldn’t accept an answer given in haste, but in truth he didn’t need to think it over. He knew he loved Remus, needed him like he needed food and water. His body was still warm from Remus’s touch, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the other man down into the bed with him and spend the next week touching and kissing and fucking him. But the wall he had built since Azkaban was strong and seemingly insurmountable.

"Yes, Remus. I love you. I always have, always will. I figured you knew that."

Remus turned to face him. There were tears in his eyes. "And I love you, too. This nonsense about being apart has to stop. Either we need to be together the way we’re meant to be, or I need to leave, get out of the country and away from you. I can’t keep this up, Sirius. Either you get over your stupid insecurities and let me love you, or you say goodbye. Which will it be?"

Sirius stood, ignoring his nudity, and went to stand beside his friend. "More than anything, I want to be with you. I just…it’s so hard – there’s so much of me missing now. Azkaban was bad enough, but what I left behind the Veil…" he shuddered. "I’m not fit for human company half the time anymore."

"I’m not exactly human, though, am I?" Remus said wryly. "Why don’t you let me decide whether you’re good enough for me or not? And in case you didn’t notice, Harry seems to think you’re fit for human company."

Sirius laughed. "I noticed. What was up with that, anyway? Did you drug my beer?"

Remus flushed. "Well, that was all Harry's idea. That boy should have been a Slytherin. And your beer wasn't exactly ‘drugged’, but there was a potion that was intended to lower your inhibitions."

"It worked." Sirius tentatively reached out to stroke Remus’s cheek. "I have to admit, it’s been a long time since I was with someone. I needed that."

"When was the last time you had sex?" Remus captured his hand and led him back to the bed, where they sat side by side.

"If by ‘have sex’ you mean with someone other than myself, October 5, 1981."

"How do you remember so exactly?" Remus looked up at the ceiling, thinking. Comprehension dawned. "Oh. Oh, God, Sirius, that was the last time?"

"Yes," Sirius said grimly. "We had had a colossal row about…about-"

"About James and Lily, Padfoot," Remus completed gently.

Sirius sighed. "Yes. And I practically accused you of being a Death Eater, and, well, you remember. It wasn’t exactly tender and loving."

There was silence for a while. "No," Remus finally answered. "No, it wasn’t. I’d almost forgotten."

"I hadn’t. It was one memory the dementors loved to feed me – I relived that night almost daily for twelve years. And that was the last time we were together."

"Until tonight." Remus reminded him. "Look, Sirius, there’s no question that we’re both damaged goods. You’ve been through six kinds of hell, I’m a werewolf with a chequered past – we’re not likely to make Witch Weekly’s list of most glamorous wizarding couples, but I love you and you love me. Can we give it another try?"

Sirius turned away to face out the window, leaning his head against the cool glass. It would be so easy to just say yes. To give Remus what he wanted, what he himself truly wanted, but the unreasoning fear was still there. "I don’t know how anymore. To be with someone like that, I mean."

Remus scrutinized him carefully. "If you're talking about sex, Sirius, that’s something we can relearn together, you know."

"Not just sex," he shook his head, "though that’s part of it. My memories of sex are four years of wanking and the night I raped you."

"Padfoot, I – " Remus started to interrupt.

"No. I know what I did. But that’s only part of it. As I said, I don’t know how to relate to normal people anymore. I know, because I’ve been told, and because I’ve got a very dim memory, that I used to be handsome, social, popular. Everyone wanted me then, or so they tell me. That’s what I was for you, back then. That's what you fell in love with. I’m not that anymore. I can't help thinking that being with me can only disappoint you."

"So your answer is no, then?" Remus was trembling slightly.

"Would you really leave?" Sirius asked.

Remus walked to the wardrobe and took out a robe. "I’d have to. I can’t be near you, not able to touch you or love you the way I want."

"No. If I decide that I can’t handle a relationship, I’ll go. I prefer to be by myself most of the time anymore, and you have a life here, with people who care about you."

"So do you."

"Just Harry, and he can apparate to wherever I am." Sirius looked at his friend, standing quietly by the wardrobe door. He looked away. "It would be so easy just to say yes right now. I think your potion is probably still in my system, and I want so much to make you happy. But I can’t, I just can’t. I need to think about this, Remus."

"You always used to think in the Astronomy Tower at school, if I recall correctly." A flash of the beauty of the stars from the tower, Remus stretched out under him on a blanket as he gasped and strained, James’s cloak the lightest of coverings.

"So that’s called thinking, then? Funny, I thought it was another word ending in –ing."

Remus handed him the robe. It was thick and warm, Gryffindor red. "The stars are lovely from the back garden, Sirius. I’ll be here when you’re done."

Remus was sitting on the sofa, staring vacantly at the dead fireplace. Sirius watched him from the door, unseen. It was funny, really. When he looked at Remus, he didn’t see the silver grey hair or the lined face of Remus today. It was the laughing Moony of his youth who was always before him. It had never occurred to him that the same thing was probably true of how Remus saw him. He could not imagine life without Moony. It wouldn’t even really be life at all, just existence. In that moment he knew he had finally made his choice.

"Moony, your fire’s gone out," he said softly. Remus didn’t move, didn’t turn to look at him.

"I know."

Sirius paused, struggling for the words to say to make it right, and so afraid that he no longer had those words within him. "I could…I’d like to help you build it up again. If you’d like, that is."

"Are you sure that’s what you want?"

"Oh, yes."

"It wouldn’t be an easy thing."

Sirius thought of all the things that had stood in their way – Snape and the Shrieking Shack, Wormtail, the war, Azkaban. "It never was."

"And I expect it might start to die again, sometimes, if we weren’t careful."

"I’d be careful. If you’ll help me. I…I don’t quite remember how to tend it."

Now Remus rose, and turned to face him. "I’ll teach you, then. If this is truly what you want?"

Sirius took three steps into the room and crushed Remus into a clumsy embrace. "Yes, please. Yes."

Remus pulled back to look lovingly into his eyes. He pulled his wand from his pyjama pocket, and pointed it towards the fireplace. "Incendio," he said casually, and the flames flared upward.

Sirius smiled. "So that’s how it’s done, then? That doesn’t look so hard. Let me try." He took Remus’s wand, and aimed it at a ratty blanket that was lying near the hearth. "Transformatio." The blanket rose, lengthened and thickened and became a white bearskin rug. "How’s that?"

"Yes, I think you’ve got the idea. Now, just a few more things." He took back his wand. "Accio pillows, accio duvet." Sirius turned just in time to be knocked onto the rug by three flying pillows. As he fell, he reached out a hand and caught Remus, dragging him down on top of him.

Remus’s beautiful hazel eyes were laughing down at him, and Sirius knew he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life locked in that gaze. "Yes. Please, yes," he repeated fiercely. He rolled Remus down under him so that the soft fur of the rug was caressing and tickling his skin as he claimed his mate.

Remus came slowly awake, aware of Sirius’s strong arms around him, just listening contentedly to his lover’s breathing. The sun was already high; it must be going on 10:00 already. He had arranged to take the morning off from work, so he nestled back into Sirius, who unconsciously tightened his grip. Oh, I’ve missed this, Remus thought. He really owed Harry a debt he could never repay.

He heard the sound of a key in the lock. Harry must be back. Remus quickly pulled the duvet over them – Sirius may have been all right with Harry seeing him naked last night under the influence of the Inhibitio potion, but the morning after might be a completely different story.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Harry burst in without waiting for a response. "Good morning!" he said, smiling broadly as he saw the two obviously naked men intertwined before the embers of the fire. "I guess things went okay, then?"

Remus smiled back. "More than okay." He shook Sirius gently. "Padfoot, Harry’s here. Wake up."

Sirius muttered in his sleep and rolled away. Remus shook his head. "He hasn’t changed a bit since he was 20. It always took at least an hour and a pot of very strong tea before Sirius was even remotely ready to face the world. It really is a good thing he is independently wealthy – there’s no way he could have ever kept a job."

"Well," said Harry, taking out a large envelope from inside his jacket and setting it on the nightstand. "I’ve got something here that should wake him up."

"No problems, then?" Remus asked, as he continued to shake and prod Sirius. "Come on, Sirius, Harry is here."

"Uhh, what’s…" Sirius stretched and rolled back towards Remus. His eyes widened at the sight of his lover, as he suddenly remembered the previous night. Then he caught sight of Harry standing beyond Remus, and flushed. "Harry, uh, I’m really…sorry…"

“I’m not.” Harry interruped. “Thanks to Remus I got a chance to do something I’ve been wanting to do for three years now. It was bloody amazing, so I’d thank you not to apologize."

"Sorry," Sirius started, then realized what he was saying. "Whoops, sorry, oh bugger!" Remus rolled with laughter. "Quit while you’re ahead, love."

"Right. So I won’t apologize, I’ll thank you instead. Harry, I understand that this whole thing was your idea. I won’t ask what prompted you, just know that I’m incredibly grateful to you for giving me..." his voice broke off. Remus grasped him by the shoulder. "For giving me my life back. If there’s ever anything I can do to pay you back, just say the word."

"Well, maybe a repeat performance? I mean, depending on how monogamous you two are – there are a lot of strange rumors about werewolves, you know." Harry commented.

"For you, I think we can make some exceptions," Remus answered. "Now, Harry, how did they come out?"

"Brilliant! Colin Creevey is an absolute genius. The ones you took were better than mine, probably because it was your camera."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, confused.

"Harry, it’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools." Remus teased. "Let’s see."

Harry opened the envelope and took out a stack of glossy wizarding pictures. "Imagine how wonderful these will look hung up on my wall," he said proudly and held up the first print.

Sirius sat bolt upright, sputtering. "Harry! You can’t possibly put that up in public!"

Harry looked at the picture again, frowning. "Well, I know that isn’t my best side, but as I said last night, it really isn’t about me, is it? And you look just stunning."

"I look just naked! And the only thing that’s keeping me from being totally bare is your face in my crotch!" Sirius protested. So that was what the flashing lights had been.

"Let me see the rest," Remus said, taking the stack of pictures. "Oh, this one is very nice. Really, Harry, I think it came out fine."

"Not too much light? I was worried." The two poured over the photo, then held it out for Sirius to examine. "What do you think, Sirius?"

"Moony, we’re shagging in this picture!"

"Mm, I noticed. Harry certainly did a lovely job of getting both our faces in the shot. Look, you have that wonderful pain/pleasure expression you always get when you bottom. Harry, I’d like a copy of this one please."

"Enough! Harry James Potter, you are absolutely not going to hang these in your rooms." Sirius made a grab for the pictures, but Remus was faster.

"If you want copies, you’ll have to pay the developing fee yourself, Padfoot. These are Harry’s."

Harry shook his head. "No, these are for you. My copies are already back at my room." He turned to look Sirius sternly in the eye. "And unless I get a decent picture of you, those prints are going on my wall, tomorrow, for everyone to see. No more excuses."

"This is blackmail, damn it."

Harry stared his godfather down. "Well, you are a Black, and I guess I could mail these pictures to one of those wank mags you supposedly like so much."

"You wouldn’t."

"Or maybe even the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler. They’d have to cover some of the good bits, but after all, you are a celebrity. I can see the headlines now – 'Sirius Black Uncovered'"

"Or from the Quibbler, 'Stubby Boardman Revealed?'" Remus quipped.

Sirius knew enough to know when he was beaten. "All right, all right. I’ll go down to Diagon Alley today and sit for a portrait. I could even have it painted, if you like."

Harry smiled. "No, photos are fine. But get one with you and Remus together. I want to show off my fairy godfathers."