You don't know how you took it
You just know what you got
Oh Lordy you've been stealing
From the thieves and you got caught
In the headlights
Of a stretch car
You're a star
Remus staggered blindly along the streets, gasping for breath, not having any clue as to where he was going or what he was going to do. The streets of London were teeming with people from all walks of life, none paying any attention to the thin young man tripping clumsily down the sidewalks. They must have assumed he was drunk, from the irregular gait and the way he leaned upon the walls he walked by; it was, after all, Halloween, and prime opportunity for a good party.
But Remus was not drunk, though it didn’t seem like a bad idea at the moment; he was much worse off. He was heartbroken. He was in shock, he was incredibly sad, he was beginning to feel a deep-burning anger like a fire that could never be controlled, but above all he was heartbroken. In one night he had lost two of the dearest friends he’d ever known and the only man he’d ever loved.
It was early in the morning, perhaps one o’clock, but the streets were still alive. He shivered without his coat - the air was far too cold for the jeans and thin t-shirt he wore. But he had run out of the house dressed as he was, earlier that evening...
Sirius had left the flat at half past nine to run an errand that he had refused to specify to Remus; and Remus, although he knew full well that Sirius was keeping something from him, and that something was probably related to marks that certain wizards took on their left forearms, said nothing about it. Then at eleven o’clock, when Remus had been reading a thick book and spending his Halloween alone, Albus Dumbledore’s face had appeared in his fireplace and insisted that he Apparate to Godric’s Hollow immediately.
When Remus arrived in Godric’s Hollow, the home of Lily and James Potter - two of his best friends - he saw the scene of the worst disaster he could remember. And he’d been working for the Order of the Phoenix for nearly three years, so he’d seen his share of disasters. But Lily and James’s house was destroyed - the Potters themselves were dead - and their baby Harry had been hidden in a location that only Albus knew of, though he’d had Hagrid escort Harry there.
The deaths of the Potters meant only one thing: Voldemort had found them, and murdered them, at last. Brave James and beautiful Lily were gone. But the survival of baby Harry meant only one thing, as well: Voldemort was gone.
And the fact that Voldemort had found the Potters at all meant only one thing: Sirius Black, their Secret-Keeper, had given them away. Sirius was a Death Eater, Sirius was the spy who had infiltrated the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius was pure evil. Remus’s lover, his mate, was pure evil.
And Sirius was still missing.
Dumbledore had urged Remus to Apparate to Hogwarts, or someplace safe, at least until they captured Sirius and had detained him in Azkaban before the trial that was sure to come. But nothing anyone had said quite made sense to the senseless lycanthrope - nothing anyone did quite registered with him. He was lost, he was without senses, he was half-mad with disbelief. Of course he’d suspected Sirius, but he’d never believed - never wanted to believe - it was true. He’d never imagined it would cost them Lily and James’s lives.
So as he staggered numbly through the dark London streets, as he paid no mind to where he was going, he could think only two things:
‘Lily and James are gone.’
And ‘It was Sirius - it was my mate all along. My mate is gone too.’
He needed to get drunk, he needed to be wasted, he needed to die right along with Lily and James and break his body like his broken heart. But he was in no state to kill himself at the moment - as it was, he would probably mess up and just be injured, and get locked up in St. Mungo’s for a nice, refreshing holiday in the loony bin. Drunk or wasted it was. Which was probably why his body instinctively led him there...
It was a club he and Sirius had frequented when they were happy together - before Peter had whispered to Remus one day that he suspected Sirius was the spy, before Sirius had begun spending late nights out, before they had stopped making love and kissing and started living like strangers in the same flat. They’d been together five years, but even five years of a relationship couldn’t withstand the suspicion of Sirius’s true affiliations.
He stopped, bracing himself against a lamppost, and stared at the black door blankly. Inside, would be the memories of booze and loud music and the memories of heated nights dancing with Sirius, pressed against his lover’s body...Apparating home and sometimes barely making it to the bedroom before they fell upon each other...times they’d spent together when they were happy.
But there was a bar, and there would still be the loud music - and Remus thought to himself that there was probably enough alcohol and whatever-else to kill the memories for the time being. Lunging forward, he pushed the door open with the palms of his hands and moved inside to the crowded dance floor. He didn’t see what was on the sidewalk with him.
It was Halloween, so the club was in full swing - people of every size, shape, and sexual orientation were grinding together or just moving to the beat for the hell of it. The music was loud, almost unbearably so, but it felt good somehow. Remus pushed through the crowd to the bar, ordered the strongest drink they had, tossed Muggle money on the bar, and downed it quickly. He took another and felt the edges of the pain begin to blur, but he was still sober and could still think clearly; he still knew what had happened only a few hours before. Within moments he finished the second and took a third, knowing that it always took more than a few drinks to screw with a werewolf’s metabolism.
When his head was just beginning to feel a little lighter, and the music was pulsing in his entire body, he retreated to a darker corner of the club and stood against the wall. He didn’t want to dance, to get drawn into someone else’s embrace. Truthfully, he’d never been here alone before - never been without Sirius. He tried to ignore that fact, and the couple to his right that were snogging as well.
He barely caught sight of the black shadow moving across the dance floor - it almost didn’t register with him. But it was in his peripheral vision, and he turned his head to look. When he saw, he wished he was blind, he wished he was gone, he wished he was dead. He should have taken Dumbledore’s advice and hidden somewhere, or at least avoided one of his and Sirius’s old favorite haunts. Because that shadow was Sirius - and it was approaching him with the unstoppable air of a train, or of death.
Sirius had found him. He was coming to finish the job, and kill as much of the Order as he could, even though Voldemort was supposedly gone. Sirius was going to kill him.
Remus’s body went numb - limply he tilted his head back against the wall, dropping the drink so it smashed against the floor and disturbed the snogging couple. He kept his eyes at the ceiling and did not watch as his treacherous mate approached him. But he knew it was Sirius all the same - he could smell him, could hear him as he murmured, "Hello, love."
Oh no, don't be shy
You don't have to go blind
Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me
There was something strange and broken and frightened about his voice; the strange note made Remus tilt his head forward again and look at Sirius very clearly. His lover was pale, trembling slightly; his hair was mussed, he wore tight jeans and a black t-shirt Remus had given him as a gift (because black looked so good on him, Remus remembered); and his eyes were wild.
And perhaps it was the combination of the night’s unbelievable happenings, or the pounding music and the multiple drinks, or the fact that the full moon was only a few days away. Maybe it was a bit of all those factors. But somehow, strangely, sickly, Remus wanted him more than ever.
The rational part of him knew that Sirius was the traitor - that he had betrayed all of them. That Sirius was bound to be captured sooner or later, that he would be sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life, and that the world would be reshaping itself when the dawn came and the news of Voldemort’s defeat broke. But the rational part was slowly losing to the wolf...because the wolf wanted his mate...
"Go away, Sirius," Remus begged, trying to move away. He knew that if Sirius touched him, he wouldn’t be able to resist - his mere scent was almost more than he could bear...
"I have to see you one last time," Sirius said, his voice breaking. His silver eyes never left Remus’s. "I knew you were here."
"Oh? Thought you’d drop by after knocking off Lily and James?" Remus asked bitterly, on the verge of hysteria. He giggled after he finished his question.
"Don’t do that, love-"
"Since when do you call me love? You haven’t fucked me in three months, you know? What is it, do Death Eaters just not need to fuck?" More giggling.
"I have to find Peter." Sirius’s voice was hard. "I have to find him. You don’t understand yet, but you will."
Remus only laughed harder. "Why? You want to kill him too?"
"Yes."
Remus’s giggles merged with tears, and his words were unstoppable. "Why, Sirius? Why? Why the fuck are you doing this? Why did you kill them? Why did you betray us? Why are you here?"
"Because I had to see you before..."
"Before what?"
But Sirius only shook his head and took a step closer to Remus. They were close enough to kiss now, and if this had been a different time they would have done so. Sirius would have dragged Remus to the center of the crowd, dipped him back, and made a huge scene out of kissing him. He always loved attention; he’d said often he was going to be a star one day. Well, he was going to be fucking famous now, Remus thought.
"I had to see you, love," Sirius whispered again, and did the worst thing he could have done - he placed his hands on Remus’s bare arms and held him tightly. The touch of his lover, after having been virtually alone for so long, did unspeakable things to his body and even worse things to his mind. Tears still in his eyes, Remus gave in.
You don't know how you got here
You just know you want out
Believing in yourself
Almost as much as you doubt
You're a big smash
You wear it like a rash
Star
The music was pounding, but the song had changed - appropriately, it seemed a song that had been written expressly to dance to with one’s lover. Sirius pulled him away from the wall and pressed closer against him. He did seem intent on being with him for at least one song before attempting to murder Peter as well. In fact, this was probably going to be the last thing Remus himself did, seeing as how Sirius seemed to have no qualms about killing the other members of the Order. It would probably not be hard for such a determined Death Eater to knock off an annoying ex-lover, anyway.
But the look in Sirius’s eyes was not murderous, but...hungry. Wanting, needing, somehow. Remus recognized the look, then realized his eyes must have mirrored it, because even though Remus himself knew that Sirius was evil and guilty and traitorous, the wolf only knew that his mate was suddenly next to him again.
Without words Sirius stood Remus in front of him, just to an angle, then stepped to him and pressed their bodies together. Holding him with one hand at the small of his back and the other on the nape of his neck, he began to dance with Remus. Just as Remus was threading his hands through Sirius’s hair, letting his lover support him and draw him closer, he felt Sirius’s thigh slip between his own legs, brushing against his erection. He let out a very small gasp; and when he felt that Sirius, too, was aroused, he thought he was going to faint from the pleasure.
The volume of the music, the way it seemed to surround and saturate them, was positively erotic. It was only a moment before Remus had leaned his head backwards, revealing his neck in the primitive gesture of submission, and Sirius’s lips and teeth were nearly devouring the white skin there. As Sirius bit down hard, Remus clung to his lover’s shoulders and groaned his name. He tried to move his body so their hips met more, but Sirius was taller; as it was, he settled for grasping tightly at the black hair bending to his throat.
And he realized, mortified, just how badly he wanted Sirius. He wanted to let his lover take him here, if that was the only place they could be together. He wanted to be with him one more time, before the morning came and the world had to begin anew. He wanted him even if it meant he would die for it. "Sirius!" he gasped, and brought their mouths together in a rough, searing kiss.
Oh no, don't be shy
It takes a crowd to cry
Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me
He let Sirius lead him to the depths of the club, to the rooms that were a virtual no-man’s-land, where the music and the smoke were thick and hazy and the lights were always dim. Sirius’s hands were at his hips, directing his body where to walk and when to move, and their mouths were together, open and searching.
Remus was hardly aware that they stopped moving, that at some point Sirius pressed him to a wall and thrust their hips together, even as they continued kissing with a heat and a passion that had been absent for months. And Sirius was everywhere, all over him - his hands wandered across all the planes of his body, their waists and bellies were still pressed together, his mouth was flying from his neck to his ears to the collar of his shirt, all with a reckless abandon that most lovers only dreamed of. And while he was taking in Remus from these angles, he was murmuring the name over and over... "Remus. Remus. Remus. Love..."
"Please, Sirius," Remus whimpered, unable to stand another minute of it. Modesty be damned. His very world was going to end come tomorrow morning. He was clawing at Sirius’s back, trying to make him understand what he wanted. "Please."
In response, Sirius took his jaw in one hand and steadied his face, looking Remus directly in the eyes. Softly, hoarsely, Sirius began to whisper, "Remus, I l-"
"Don’t say it," Remus interrupted, pleadingly. "Don’t. I can’t bear it." ‘Please,’ he thought frantically, ‘please don’t tell me you love me. Or I’ll die...’
Thankfully, Sirius did not say another word. He merely returned his mouth to Remus’s with renewed force and dropped his hands to the fly of his jeans. He bared Remus, then himself; by this time, Remus’s mind was nearly gone. He only half-heard the muttered spell, ‘Lubricus.’
But the world around him disappeared as soon as he felt Sirius inside of him. This was why he had been empty and devoid of all feeling for so long - because he had not been with Sirius. He had felt bereft in every sense, physically and emotionally and spiritually, while things were not right between him and his lover. And things still were not right, this itself was too-much too-sudden too-painful, but it was better than nothing. Braced against the wall, the only sensations that existed in the entire world were the sound and scent and feel of his lover emptying himself into Remus.
After he came, and caught his breath, he pulled away from Remus and turned his lover around to kiss him again, hard on the lips, as he zipped his pants again quickly. The werewolf was still trembling from their contact - he whined low in his throat, a request for pleasure in return, then set his teeth firmly on Sirius’s lip.
Sirius’s hands were wandering across his back all the way down to his thighs, and without warning he knelt before Remus. After one brief smile up at him - not a smile, really, more of a wicked grin, Remus mused while he could still think at all - he took Remus in his mouth. And while lycanthropy had always blessed Remus with more stamina, Sirius could do things with his mouth that were beyond magical: they were simply impossible. But, oh, here he was again, and as Remus came into his lover’s mouth he forgot, for one shining moment, everything that had happened that night.
Then it was over, and he remembered again.
Sirius half-smiled coyly and restored order to Remus’s physical appearance, still on his knees, while Remus closed his eyes and tried to breathe properly. And, again without warning, Sirius did something quite odd: he pressed his face to Remus’s stomach and wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly. Remus looked down at the black-haired man burying his face in his shirt, and suddenly thought Sirius looked like a child - someone to love, to protect. He placed one hand on the black hair and stroked it lovingly, comfortingly. After a moment, Sirius stood up slowly and dusted off the knees of his pants.
When he looked at Remus, and their eyes met again, a strange, searching look passed between them. Remus knew that this was the moment of his death - Sirius had satisfied himself, and had further work to complete before he was captured, and so it was time for Remus to finally find out what a Killing Curse felt like. But it was alright - he had accepted this fact. He would be joining Lily and James in an afterlife somewhere. Voldemort was gone, so there was no more work for the Order to do. And what life would there be without Sirius?
But he did not kill him. He did not even reach for his wand. Instead, Sirius cupped Remus’s face gently with the palm of his hand, stroking it fondly, as they had done so many times before. "Love," Sirius whispered. "Now I can go happily."
Remus looked away, blinking back tears. His heart was numb.
Sirius was still speaking. "If you see Peter," he asked slowly, "will you warn him?"
Was that a trick question? Remus couldn’t decide, so he finally chose to answer honestly. "Yes. I have to."
Sirius sighed, then smiled tightly - bitterly. His eyes glimmered, as though with tears. "That’s what I thought. Noble Remus. Good Remus," he said softly. Then he produced his wand, temporarily shrunk and hidden in a pocket of his jeans, and restored it to normal size. He pointed it straight at Remus’s chest.
"Sirius," Remus whispered sadly, closing his eyes. He braced himself.
And instead of murdering his lover, Sirius said, 'Stupefy.' He turned before he could see Remus crumple to the floor, unconscious, but he heard the thump of his body hitting the ground anyway. Sirius left the club, transforming into Padfoot on his way out, hunting for Peter for the rest of the night and well into the morning. Remus was discovered, awakened, and shoved out of the club around an hour or so later with the rest of the night’s stragglers.
Upon sobering up in the flat he had formerly shared with Sirius, sometime that morning, Remus realized that he was indeed still alive. Sirius had not murdered him in the club. Sirius had, however, fucked him. Then given him head. Then clung to him like a small, frightened child.
Remus felt sick. As he was trying to drink a simple potion to cure his hangover, although he didn’t seem to have brewed it correctly, Albus Dumbledore’s face appeared again in the fireplace and informed him that Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles were dead, and Sirius had finally been captured. Remus thanked him, then left the room and went into his bedroom.
He didn’t even make it onto the bed. He dropped onto the floor, his body racked with dry, heaving sobs, and he screamed, "Why didn’t you kill me? Did you think I’d want to live without you? Why didn’t you just kill me? Why didn’t you kill me like them?"
He half-slept, half-fainted, but woke up a day or so later, in time to make it to Peter Pettigrew’s funeral. Lily and James’s services were the next day. And he hated himself for remembering it, but through each of the services the images would come to him unbidden: Sirius’s body pressed against his at during their last dance. Their mouths together, open, searching. How it felt to have Sirius inside of him. The thoughts made him hate himself for daring to think such filthy, treacherous things at funerals. He wanted to die. He wanted to be dead like his friends, instead of alive and suffering like his lover.
After much debating with himself, Remus decided not to attend Sirius’s trial or sentencing. He let his last memory of Sirius be of the last night he let his mate hold him, thrill him, kiss him...
Of course you're not shy
You don't have to deny love
Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me