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wildestrangerTitle: So we’ll go no more a roving
Author: Wildestranger
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5373
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters, Lord Byron owns the poetry. I am using the characters and the poetry without permission, and I make no money out of this. No infringement of copywright is intended. Please don’t sue, I have nothing but perverted fantasies.
Summary: The summer before OotP. Angst, bitterness, and poking without hands. And poetry. I got a bit carried away.
Both characters are over 18.
Part One: Now A Thing Apart
No more – no more – oh never more, my heart,
Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!
Once all in all, but now a thing apart,
Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse.
The illusion’s gone forever, and thou art,
Insensible, I trust, but none the worse,
And thy stead I’ve got a deal of judgement,
Though heaven knows how it ever found a lodgement.
So, we’ll go no more a roving
“No.”
“C’mon Moony, it’ll be like before, it’ll be fun. We could howl at the moon, and run around, and…just run.”
“No, Sirius.“
“But why?”
Remus sighs. Saying no to Sirius is something he tries to avoid these days, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. There are Lucius Malfoy and his spies keeping a lookout for black dogs as well as for any known members of the Order of the Phoenix. There are Molly and the Weasleys, who are staying in 12, Grimmauld Place and battling bad moods and premonitions with rich food, cleaning products, and eternal good cheer. There is Snape, arriving with communications from Dumbledore, and taking great pleasure in commenting on Sirius’s position in the Order, mental abilities, and personal appearance. There is Sirius alternating between playful reminiscence of schooldays, casual cruelty, and a complete refusal to speak.
“Why Moony? I know you haven’t let yourself loose since I…since I went away, but you could now. It would be just like before.”
Remus knows that Sirius probably realises it would not be like before, and that he wants Remus to pretend it could be. But that would mean remembering things he prefers to forget. Sirius reminds him of a time when he believed he could go out in the world, talk to people, make a life for himself. He doesn’t want to remember that time.
He has not been dead these thirteen years, he has done things, had conversations with to people, moved about. He hasn’t closed himself up completely. There has been life, but it’s been very different from what he planned with his friends. He doesn’t regret his life.
But now there is Sirius, who doesn’t understand that he isn’t Moony anymore.
“Please Remus. I need to get out of here. I need to.”
Remus sighs, closes his eyes, and rubs his nose.
“Perhaps I can arrange for you to take a walk with someone, Kingsley maybe, he wouldn’t be suspected? And he wouldn’t be helpless if something happened. If someone attacked you.”
Sirius is staring now, stepping closer.
“I want to go out with you, Moony. No one else knows…” His head drops.
“It should be you.”
“Well I can’t, Sirius. So you’ll have to find someone else or stay inside…’
But Sirius isn’t listening, he is stepping even closer, lifting his hands to rest against the wall behind Remus. His breath smells of firewhisky and tea. Remus swallows, and tries not to move.
Suddenly there is a dazzling smile, and Remus starts to worry if Sirius has at last gone completely round the bend, but then the dark head is bending down to lick his neck, biting down on his Adam’s apple, sucking on that piece of skin just above his collarbone.
Remus hears himself moan before realising what he’s done, and shivers when he realises what Sirius is doing, to him, right now, in the hallway next to the kitchen.
He’s halfway up the stairs before he realises that his hands were tangled in Sirius’s hair and his mouth was licking Sirius’s ear.
So late into the night
The water in the bath is lukewarm. The plumbing in 12, Grimmauld Place has been unused for years, and even in its heyday, when Sirius’s parents were entertaining friends and relatives, it was only in the Master Suite that hot water was guaranteed. Children and assorted guests were expected to get by with less. Remus doesn’t mind, it’s been a long time since his body has been able to immerse itself in clean water of any kind.
He enjoys the feeling of water around his body. It’s naked, and yet covered from all sides. Visible, yet untouchable, except by water. He lays back, puts an absent-minded hand on his stomach. It is strange to think that he is naked, touching his body, yet there is no feeling. He moves his hand, covers his hip, feels the muscles on his thigh. It is strange to think that this is his body, but it’s not doing anything, not changing into a monster, not being coaxed to arousal. It’s just there. This is the scar on his back. That’s his hipbone. This is his bellybutton. The skin around it is smooth, slightly covered in hair. Close to the muscles underneath.
Usually Remus doesn’t like to be reminded that he has a body. It is a source of pain, occasionally a source of pleasure. It’s easy to pull away, withdraw from the hands and the feet, become only a creature of the mind. He knows it’s not good to do this. But it’s easy. And he wants to.
The change has been difficult this time. Although his cell is deep in the bowels of the house, there were human smells, of Unclaimed Prey and Fresh Young Things, and Packmate, which had driven the wolf wild. He remembers running free in Hogsmeade with his pack, antlers by his side directing him away from the village, a dog nuzzling his neck during the change to keep him from clawing at himself. But he also remembers love and lust, and death and betrayal. Remus knows who is innocent and who is to be blamed, but the wolf is still confused. It only remembers pain and anger.
His wounds will heal quickly now that he has a warm house and clean water and good food. Even though his room is cold, the library is warm, and there are big windows for the sunlight to come through in the afternoons. There are enough books to make him dizzy with anticipation, and content just to be in the same room with them. There is paper and ink, an old mahogany desk, a comfortable chair.
Yet his body does not want to be forgotten. He awakes from his book to find that his hand has been rubbing his mouth for the last five minutes, and that the other people in the room, Sirius, Hermione and Bill, are all staring at him. He is interrupted from his writing by Snape clearing his throat, and looks up to see a lifted eyebrow and to realise he is tapping his foot against the desk. Getting away from his body becomes more difficult, and he starts to grow wary of it. Clearly it has needs and desires he is not aware of. Or chooses not to acknowledge.
Remus has thirty-five years of experience of ignoring his body.
Though the heart be still as loving
They are all sitting in the kitchen, having just finished a meal of excellent pasta, and listening to Arthur’s account of his encounter with Lucius Malfoy earlier in the day. Most of the Order is present, and they are supposed to be having a meeting after dinner. Sirius has spent the day cleaning. He hopes they will get on with it; he is tired and wants to go to bed.
Remus is leaning against his hands, eyes tired but his mouth red from the wine, smiling easily. As Sirius watches, he looks down, and tilts his head. His mouth moves into something that on another person might be called a pout, but on Remus signals concentration of thoughts and lips. His eyelashes flutter once, and then he looks straight up, and Sirius forgets himself, forgets the room and the other people in it. He has a vague idea of feeling hotter, but then Remus picks up his goblet, circles it with his hand, strokes his thumb along the curve, and lifts it to his mouth. His lower lip moves against the edge, and Sirius can see the moment when the wine touches Remus’s mouth, and the shock of the taste. His tongue comes to lick off the last of the wine, rough against the silver.
Remus looks away and Sirius looks at the floor. His fingertips are tingling and he is breathing fast as he becomes aware of the others. They are talking about Harry, and what should be done about getting him away from the Dursleys, and then Remus speaks, offers to come along to the rescue mission. Sirius’s stomach lurches and he fears for a moment that he is going to be sick, right there at the table, destroyed by the sound of Remus’s voice. He realises he’s been gripping the arms of his chair, curling and uncurling his hands. His fingers tremble as they begin to stroke the engravings. They move along the intricate patterns of snakes and ivy that circle each other, touching the sharp edges and the smooth curves. His heartbeat is slowing down. He lets out a long breath.
The conversation has once again become a background noise, and Sirius is concentrating on the feel of the wood beneath his hands, when he hears his name spoken.
“…What do you think, Sirius?”
He looks up and there is Remus, watching him, head tilted, a slight smile on his face. Sirius goes white, then red, and hears Snape murmur something about insane Gryffindors who lost what little mind they had in Azkaban, but he doesn’t care because Remus is looking at him and frowning.
Sirius looks away.
And the moon be still as bright
Harry is telling Sirius about his Firebolt, how it feels under his hands, what the crowd sounds like when he’s just caught the Snitch, what Malfoy looks like when Gryffindor has beaten Slytherin once again. There is joy on his face, on both their faces, like they can feel the wind and smell the wild air. Remus considers whether he is really hungry and how much of an effort it would take for him to walk back downstairs later.
“Does it hurt terribly, Remus?”
“I’ll be fine, Molly. Thank you. Just need to rest.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own room?”
“Yes, Molly, I’m going there, just wanted a slice of toast…”
“I could bring you a bite to eat, really Remus, it’s no trouble…”
“Thank you, Molly, but there’s no need, I’m perfectly capable…”
“You alright there, Moony?”
Sirius stands in the doorway, blocking the way to the kitchen. Remus can smell his shampoo and the clean dog smell Sirius seems to carry around these days. Molly’s fingers tighten their grip on his arm.
“I was just telling Remus that he shouldn’t be wandering around the house in his state…”
“I’m sure he appreciates it.”
Molly is silenced for a moment. When she opens her mouth to speak, Sirius beats her to it.
“Why don’t you let me take care of him, Molly? I heard Ginny was just looking for you.”
Molly snaps her mouth shut, gives Remus a suspicious look, and walks past Sirius to the kitchen. She slams it shut behind him, but Sirius has already moved to put his head beneath Remus’s arm and his hand on his back, and, after a brief scuffle when Remus tries to move away, they start to walk up the stairs.
“You were rude to her.”
“Oh spare me the sermon, you don’t like her any more than I do.”
“I, nevertheless, manage to be polite.”
“How you manage to be polite when she is all but shoving you away from her precious children…”
“Was Ginny really looking for her?”
“Hell, no, she’s hiding from her mother in the attic. Smart girl.”
They pause to let Remus catch his breath.
“She is a smart girl. She used to have a crush on Harry, but she seems to have got over it.”
“Are you saying she’s too smart to have a crush on my godson?”
“No, Sirius, I was just saying…”
“In any case, you’re wrong. She hasn’t got over it, she’s just figured out that she needs to be less obvious to get him. That’s why she’s smart.”
“Well, if you say so. Although I’m not convinced that her strategy will work.”
“Why not? Worked for me.”
This time it’s Remus who stops, and stares at Sirius.
“When were you ever stealthy? You used to make all the fit girls gather around you in one cluster so you could make your choice, and then just point your finger at the one you’d picked! You made Peter go and ask them for you when you couldn’t be bothered! You serenaded them at the dinner table!”
“That was James…”
“You always made sure you had an audience before you announced your fancy!”
“I was stealthy with you.”
Remus almost doesn’t hear, and then pretends that he didn’t, and then realises he’s been silent for so long that Sirius knows that he did.
“And it worked.”
Remus says nothing. Only when Sirius moves closer and starts rubbing circles on Remus’s back he lifts his head and speaks.
“Thank you for helping me to my room, Sirius. I should be fine from here. Good night.”
He closes the door to Sirius’s face before he can say anything. He goes to the window at the other end of the room so he can’t listen to the sound of the footsteps moving away. He stands there for an hour before the banging of the kitchen door downstairs can hide any other noise.
Part Two: The Eloquence of Action
For the sword outwears its sheath
Three days before the full moon Remus comes into Sirius’s room, closes the door and pins Sirius against the wall. A breath away from Sirius’s lips he stops.
“What do you want?”
Sirius stumbles against the wall. Remus hasn’t touched him since that night at the Shrieking Shack.
Hasn’t allowed himself to be touched.
“You Remus. Always you.”
Remus stares at him for a moment, trying to decide what to do, trying to understand what Sirius had said. Then
“You want me to touch you?”
Sirius lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. This he knows the answer to.
“Yes.”
Remus looks at him, then his eyes become mindless and suddenly Sirius can feel his lips on his own, roaming to memorise the shape and the texture, then licking his lower lip from one side to the other in that way that used to make him forget all about finesse and want to just plunder, open his mouth and just push his tongue at Remus’s with the vague idea that this will lead to something. But then Remus starts to suck at his tongue and Sirius becomes aware that his hands are being held above his head with one hand, while the other is tearing at his shirt. The first button is the most difficult, but after that Remus doesn’t bother and he can feel the fabric being torn across his chest, and Moony’s hand moving from neck to nipple to stomach, hard enough to leave bruises, but soft enough to make him shiver.
Remus lifts his head and Sirius can’t look him in the eye so he’s glad to be turned around. Remus is still holding his wrists and he can’t move but the other hand is stroking the back of his neck, then sauntering downwards slowly as Remus’s mouth starts to press his teeth on the side of his neck, with just enough bite for Sirius to know he’s there. And his hand is crawling down to where Sirius’s pyjama bottoms are tied and Remus’s hand is on Sirius’s stomach and then his trousers are at his ankles. And clearly Remus has become really good at wandless magic because Sirius can feel smoothness and warmth inside him, and then Remus’s finger, and then his cock and Sirius has to close his eyes and hold on to the wall. The teeth on his shoulder and the fingers on his wrist bring him back just as Remus puts his hand to Sirius’s cock and he can barely see the explosion behind his eyelids.
And the soul wears out the breast
Remus doesn’t fall asleep tangled up with Sirius, their hearts beating in unison, or wake up the next day to repeat the performance. He goes back to his room and downs a bottle of whiskey, Muggle stuff that won’t know he’s a werewolf. He doesn’t pass out till three hours later but luckily all the thoughts he’s had will be forgotten the next morning.
The next day, faced with a grinning Sirius, he ignores the puzzled faces of Molly and Kingsley, and the knowing ones of Bill and Tonks. He doesn’t speak to Sirius all day, not until he is cornered into Buckbeak’s room on his way to bed. Meeting Sirius’s eyes is something he’s been avoiding, but now, now he wants to just end this tension that has been building up and if he has to tear either one of them apart to do that then he will.
“What the fuck is going on Moony?”
Remus closes his eyes, sinking against the wall. There’s nothing he can say that will make Sirius understand why. Why he can’t be touched or become Moony again or be brought back to life. But looking at Sirius he can see that an explanation is not what is required.
“Do you want me Sirius?”
Sirius is breathless for a moment, surprised by Remus’s answer. Then he nods, just once, firmly, and is pushed against the wall as Remus begins to lick his neck where the pulse is getting faster. Remus can hear anger and confusion melt into the pounding rhythm of want, rhythm he can hear across rooms and see in the shaking of Sirius’s hands when Remus passes behind him. He bites down and feels Sirius become still for a moment, waiting for Remus to let go. Remus doesn’t. He breathes and the surrounding skin gets goose-pumps as Remus starts to lick the piece of skin between his teeth. Leaving a mark on him will please Sirius, and this Remus can give. He can feel Sirius’s hands wander down his back and he growls, lifting his head to stop Sirius’s complaint with his mouth as he pins Sirius’s hands to his sides. Hands and mouth occupied, he starts to rub his body across Sirius’s, moving sideways, rolling his hips, pressing one thigh between Sirius’s, remembering just the right twists to do to make Sirius moan. Remus lifts his head for a moment, lets go of Sirius’s arms with a look warning him not to move them, and unbuttons both their trousers. He then presses his hands on both sides of Sirius’s head, all the while looking at him, and starts to thrust. Slowly, with careful precision, without touching anywhere else, he fucks Sirius into the wall.
And the heart must pause to breathe
It’s always easy to be cruel with Sirius, because he will just take it. Beneath all the bravado he believes that he is damned because he is a Black, and that he doesn’t deserve his friends. It isn’t insecurity, it’s a cold undercurrent to everything else he does and while to most insults, offences and threats Sirius will answer with sarcastic carelessness, to Remus saying he is no good, he can only shiver and say no I’m not. Because he knows Remus knows the worst things he has done, and forgives the selfishness that makes him behave like that, and he trusts Remus to never use it against him. Which is unfortunate, because Remus does, not in malice, but in defence when Sirius gets too close to the things Remus wants to hide. Remus says he cannot love Sirius because he cannot trust him, there is too much horror behind them and he will not take the risk again. He says this knowing that Sirius will take it to mean that he is not worth loving. He doesn’t say it’s because he himself is too dead and he cannot come back to life because that would mean admitting how dead he has been. He combines a tone of reasonable logic with viciousness that surprises Sirius, but doesn’t surprise Remus because it has been shouting in his head for years. He says I can fuck you just as easily as not, it’s not love and never will be. He pushes Sirius to the mattress, tears his pyjamas off and wraps Sirius’s legs around him. Sirius lifts his hands to touch Remus’s shoulder and Remus snarls at him to keep his hands by his sides. He is rough but Sirius looks him in the eye the whole time, doesn’t turn away from what Remus is doing, what Remus has become. Sirius smiles tenderly and wets his lips, and then Remus kisses him.
And love itself have rest
Remus has learnt to ignore the angry looks people are giving him. Tonks glares at him but doesn’t quite accuse him of destroying her cousin. Molly keeps a look of general distaste on her face whenever she speaks to either one of them, but doesn’t really care to discuss it so Remus adds it to the list of things he does which displease Molly, and then forgets about it. The children seem confused, some less than others, by all this tension going around, but Remus finds he doesn’t actually care that much. What he finds disturbing is the lack of reproach from Sirius.
Back in their Marauding days, Sirius, when he had felt himself to be unfairly treated, would produce a sublime rhetorical construction of woe, often with extracts from Paradise Lost, alliterative rhythm, and unsurpassed eloquence. His audience (there was always an audience, usually of young ladies) would have intercepted with sighs and on one memorable occasion, with tears, and would have directed such reproachful looks to whomever Sirius felt was mistreating him, that the culprit would be overcome with guilt (and general condemnation from others) regardless of whether they were in the wrong.
But now there are no anguished words, no suffering looks, no tragic pose. Sirius looks at him, sometimes even smiles, and then looks away. This disturbs Remus on many levels. If there were accusations he could answer them. He has prepared answers for them, not excuses or justifications, but reasons why he is treating Sirius like a piece of tissue after wanking. Why this is what he is doing and that’s all and if that’s not good enough for you, not what you want, then you can always stop. Of course Remus knows Sirius isn’t going to do that, but as a rhetorical position, it isn’t bad. It’s a position one can defend.
Yet Sirius says nothing, and smiles, even though Remus gets rougher and snarls at him.
Part Three: Since others it hath ceased to move
’Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
Though the night was made for loving
Sirius is clever. He knows Remus won’t let Sirius touch him when they are fucking, but when they are in public there are a million casual touches, platonic, friendly. A clap on the shoulder, a slow slithering across his back when crossing each other on the stairwell, thighs accidentally bumping under the table, a press of fingers when passing the wine. Remus knows these are intentional because Sirius looks so carefully innocent. Sirius knows how to get to him, how to stoke up the frustration and get him closer to losing control.
To say something would mean admitting that there is something going on, So Remus sits through endless meals with Sirius stroking his calf under the dinner table whilst talking animatedly to Harry, and getting approving winks from Bill and disgusted mumbles from Snape. It is never overt, nor something anyone could comment on, but there are enough casual touches between them for people to notice how friendly they are.
Yet they are not really friends anymore. There is tension, and anger, and desire, and disappointment, and things that make Sirius moan out nonsense names when Remus is fucking him, and things that make Remus stop in mid-sentence when Sirius passes behind him, but not friendship. Friends don’t do that to each other. Yet there is something that gets past everyone else, a shared understanding of some kind even though they can no longer finish each other’s sentences.
“What are you up to?”
“Why, whatever do you mean, Remus?”
Remus says nothing, just looks at Sirius.
“If you are trying to ask whether it is my plan to drive you mad, then the answer would be yes.”
Remus turns to leave but Sirius grabs him by the collar.
“What’s going on? Why won’t you let me touch you?”
Remus looks at him hard, and his voice is too intentionally cold to be calm.
“Do you enjoy what we do, Sirius?”
Sirius, equally serious and forceful.
“I love it. And I want to do the same to you. Why won’t you let me?”
Silence. Remus lets out a breath.
“I’m afraid that is beyond my abilities.”
“Why, Remus?”
Remus doesn’t answer, looks away.
“Why?”
Remus says nothing, and when Sirius lifts his finger to trail along Remus’s cheek, he gives Sirius a bitter smile, kisses his finger, and walks out the door.
And the day returns too soon
Remus has fallen asleep in the garden. The sun is shining and the wind is strong, but he dozes on, ignorant of the way his hair moves with the breeze. What looks colourless and dead inside the harsh light of Grimmauld Place becomes old bronze and shining copper outside in the sun. His skin is pale, but there are a few freckles on his nose, and Sirius knows, on his back and stomach.
Sirius has watched him from the window in the library for the past hour, watched him set out with a book and a cup of tea. He saw him become so engrossed with reading that he forgot the tea until he was cold, and then drunk it anyway, and continued with his book. After a while he set the book down beside him, carefully marked with a slip of paper, and lay on his back with his hands crossed on his stomach. After fifteen minutes of watching Remus sleep, Sirius becomes convinced that he is in fact asleep. He comes out of the house, and sits on the grass beside Remus.
He used to enjoy watching Remus sleep, back in school from his own bed next to Remus’s, and then from Remus’s bed beside him. Later when they shared a flat and a bed and little else except suspicion, he looked for signs of betrayal in the sleeping man. Remus shows a little more of himself asleep than when awake, but there is always a façade, hiding his true face, or rather his true face has become the façade. There is always an awareness that it isn’t safe to show everything, and Sirius used to enjoy breaking Remus’s control, make him reveal things that weren’t safe and appropriate. A long time ago.
Remus sleeps, but Sirius is well studied in reading his face. There is nothing so obvious as a frown, but a little tension along his eyebrows, followed by forced relaxation and a total stillness. This suggests that there is something he is trying not to think about, something that creeps back to his brain while he tells himself not to think about it. Or a lump on the ground that causes a brief discomfort. Sirius knows too well that he is not infallible when it comes to Remus and what he is really thinking. He does, however, know how to get a reaction of some kind from Remus.
Remus turns his head to the side. He could never sleep comfortably on his back, always tried to turn his face into the pillow or Sirius’s neck, twisting his body sideways to get into the right position. Such light movements are a sign that he is about to wake. Sirius considers briefly whether he should go back to the house before he can be caught staring or stalking, then decides against it. He decides to be brave.
Remus wakes with Sirius’s fingertips trailing a line along his arm, from the wrist to the elbow. Sirius sees the instant Remus becomes awake, the pulse beneath his finger is pounding and the stillness of the body beneath him suggests a readiness to pounce. He grins.
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
At dinner, Sirius takes hold of his hand, and keeps it in his throughout the meal. His thumb is making small circles on Remus’s palm, stroking the fine skin on his wrist, and Remus appears to lose his ability to breathe until Sirius turns to look at him and says: “It’s alright, Moony”. Stricken, Remus pulls his hand back, stands up abruptly and storms out of the room. He is still shaking when Sirius finds him two minutes later, and takes both if his hands in his own.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what, Remus?”
Sirius begins to stroke his wrists again, and Remus loses track of his thoughts.
“Just can’t. Do this. Can’t.”
“Can’t let yourself be touched?”
Remus’s eyes are wild and he doesn’t answer. He stumbles to stand up.
“Look. I just. There are things.”
“What are you afraid of? That if I touch you would feel something?”
Remus is silent.
“Or that you’d feel nothing, that there’s nothing left in you alive enough to feel?”
Remus stands still for a long while.
Then, slowly, his hands move to his collar, and he opens the top button. He looks at Sirius, then looks back down again, at the next button, carefully extricated from the buttonhole. Then the next. His hands have stopped shaking, but they are slow, careful. He pulls his shirt out from his trousers, opens the last two buttons. Looks at Sirius. Drops his shirt on the chair.
The button on his trousers is tighter, and his thumbs are clammy against his stomach when he eventually manages to open it. The zip is easy, but his hands are slow and silent. His breathing is fast and unsteady and loud in his ears, and he doesn’t look up when at last he takes off his trousers. Socks on the chair, shoes on the floor beside it. Boxers on the top of the pile.
Remus looks up, and takes a step toward Sirius, still sitting on the bed. Two more steps and he is standing close enough to hear the other man’s heart pounding.
There is awe, and fear, and uncertainty in his eyes, but Sirius’s hands know what to do as they move across Remus’s skin. Light fingertips on his hipbones, a steady thumb stroke where the thigh meets the stomach. His breath an inch away from Remus’s stomach as he looks up.
“What do you want, Remus?”
By the light of the moon
The window is open and the light coming through is harsh, revelling in the scars and the wrinkles on their skin. The sheets are old and musty, the bed is narrow (large enough for a sixteen-year-old Sirius), and the wooden posts are worn with age.
Remus twitches every time Sirius kisses his hipbone. He bites his lip when Sirius licks the inside of his elbow. He strokes Sirius’s back when he is fucking him.
Remus sleeps with his face in Sirius’s neck, his hand on Sirius’s stomach. Sirius keeps his hand on Remus’s arm, lazily moving his thumb over Remus’s elbow. When Remus shivers, and starts to move away, he presses his mouth on the arm beneath his neck, and Remus becomes still again.
The End
Notes: All poetry used in this story is by Lord Byron. The title and the subtitles are from the poem ‘So we’ll go no more a roving’. The title of the first part is from Don Juan, Canto I, st. 215, the second part is, I think, from Byron but I am not sure where, the third part from ‘On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year’.
Author: Wildestranger
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5373
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters, Lord Byron owns the poetry. I am using the characters and the poetry without permission, and I make no money out of this. No infringement of copywright is intended. Please don’t sue, I have nothing but perverted fantasies.
Summary: The summer before OotP. Angst, bitterness, and poking without hands. And poetry. I got a bit carried away.
Both characters are over 18.
Part One: Now A Thing Apart
No more – no more – oh never more, my heart,
Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!
Once all in all, but now a thing apart,
Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse.
The illusion’s gone forever, and thou art,
Insensible, I trust, but none the worse,
And thy stead I’ve got a deal of judgement,
Though heaven knows how it ever found a lodgement.
So, we’ll go no more a roving
“No.”
“C’mon Moony, it’ll be like before, it’ll be fun. We could howl at the moon, and run around, and…just run.”
“No, Sirius.“
“But why?”
Remus sighs. Saying no to Sirius is something he tries to avoid these days, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. There are Lucius Malfoy and his spies keeping a lookout for black dogs as well as for any known members of the Order of the Phoenix. There are Molly and the Weasleys, who are staying in 12, Grimmauld Place and battling bad moods and premonitions with rich food, cleaning products, and eternal good cheer. There is Snape, arriving with communications from Dumbledore, and taking great pleasure in commenting on Sirius’s position in the Order, mental abilities, and personal appearance. There is Sirius alternating between playful reminiscence of schooldays, casual cruelty, and a complete refusal to speak.
“Why Moony? I know you haven’t let yourself loose since I…since I went away, but you could now. It would be just like before.”
Remus knows that Sirius probably realises it would not be like before, and that he wants Remus to pretend it could be. But that would mean remembering things he prefers to forget. Sirius reminds him of a time when he believed he could go out in the world, talk to people, make a life for himself. He doesn’t want to remember that time.
He has not been dead these thirteen years, he has done things, had conversations with to people, moved about. He hasn’t closed himself up completely. There has been life, but it’s been very different from what he planned with his friends. He doesn’t regret his life.
But now there is Sirius, who doesn’t understand that he isn’t Moony anymore.
“Please Remus. I need to get out of here. I need to.”
Remus sighs, closes his eyes, and rubs his nose.
“Perhaps I can arrange for you to take a walk with someone, Kingsley maybe, he wouldn’t be suspected? And he wouldn’t be helpless if something happened. If someone attacked you.”
Sirius is staring now, stepping closer.
“I want to go out with you, Moony. No one else knows…” His head drops.
“It should be you.”
“Well I can’t, Sirius. So you’ll have to find someone else or stay inside…’
But Sirius isn’t listening, he is stepping even closer, lifting his hands to rest against the wall behind Remus. His breath smells of firewhisky and tea. Remus swallows, and tries not to move.
Suddenly there is a dazzling smile, and Remus starts to worry if Sirius has at last gone completely round the bend, but then the dark head is bending down to lick his neck, biting down on his Adam’s apple, sucking on that piece of skin just above his collarbone.
Remus hears himself moan before realising what he’s done, and shivers when he realises what Sirius is doing, to him, right now, in the hallway next to the kitchen.
He’s halfway up the stairs before he realises that his hands were tangled in Sirius’s hair and his mouth was licking Sirius’s ear.
So late into the night
The water in the bath is lukewarm. The plumbing in 12, Grimmauld Place has been unused for years, and even in its heyday, when Sirius’s parents were entertaining friends and relatives, it was only in the Master Suite that hot water was guaranteed. Children and assorted guests were expected to get by with less. Remus doesn’t mind, it’s been a long time since his body has been able to immerse itself in clean water of any kind.
He enjoys the feeling of water around his body. It’s naked, and yet covered from all sides. Visible, yet untouchable, except by water. He lays back, puts an absent-minded hand on his stomach. It is strange to think that he is naked, touching his body, yet there is no feeling. He moves his hand, covers his hip, feels the muscles on his thigh. It is strange to think that this is his body, but it’s not doing anything, not changing into a monster, not being coaxed to arousal. It’s just there. This is the scar on his back. That’s his hipbone. This is his bellybutton. The skin around it is smooth, slightly covered in hair. Close to the muscles underneath.
Usually Remus doesn’t like to be reminded that he has a body. It is a source of pain, occasionally a source of pleasure. It’s easy to pull away, withdraw from the hands and the feet, become only a creature of the mind. He knows it’s not good to do this. But it’s easy. And he wants to.
The change has been difficult this time. Although his cell is deep in the bowels of the house, there were human smells, of Unclaimed Prey and Fresh Young Things, and Packmate, which had driven the wolf wild. He remembers running free in Hogsmeade with his pack, antlers by his side directing him away from the village, a dog nuzzling his neck during the change to keep him from clawing at himself. But he also remembers love and lust, and death and betrayal. Remus knows who is innocent and who is to be blamed, but the wolf is still confused. It only remembers pain and anger.
His wounds will heal quickly now that he has a warm house and clean water and good food. Even though his room is cold, the library is warm, and there are big windows for the sunlight to come through in the afternoons. There are enough books to make him dizzy with anticipation, and content just to be in the same room with them. There is paper and ink, an old mahogany desk, a comfortable chair.
Yet his body does not want to be forgotten. He awakes from his book to find that his hand has been rubbing his mouth for the last five minutes, and that the other people in the room, Sirius, Hermione and Bill, are all staring at him. He is interrupted from his writing by Snape clearing his throat, and looks up to see a lifted eyebrow and to realise he is tapping his foot against the desk. Getting away from his body becomes more difficult, and he starts to grow wary of it. Clearly it has needs and desires he is not aware of. Or chooses not to acknowledge.
Remus has thirty-five years of experience of ignoring his body.
Though the heart be still as loving
They are all sitting in the kitchen, having just finished a meal of excellent pasta, and listening to Arthur’s account of his encounter with Lucius Malfoy earlier in the day. Most of the Order is present, and they are supposed to be having a meeting after dinner. Sirius has spent the day cleaning. He hopes they will get on with it; he is tired and wants to go to bed.
Remus is leaning against his hands, eyes tired but his mouth red from the wine, smiling easily. As Sirius watches, he looks down, and tilts his head. His mouth moves into something that on another person might be called a pout, but on Remus signals concentration of thoughts and lips. His eyelashes flutter once, and then he looks straight up, and Sirius forgets himself, forgets the room and the other people in it. He has a vague idea of feeling hotter, but then Remus picks up his goblet, circles it with his hand, strokes his thumb along the curve, and lifts it to his mouth. His lower lip moves against the edge, and Sirius can see the moment when the wine touches Remus’s mouth, and the shock of the taste. His tongue comes to lick off the last of the wine, rough against the silver.
Remus looks away and Sirius looks at the floor. His fingertips are tingling and he is breathing fast as he becomes aware of the others. They are talking about Harry, and what should be done about getting him away from the Dursleys, and then Remus speaks, offers to come along to the rescue mission. Sirius’s stomach lurches and he fears for a moment that he is going to be sick, right there at the table, destroyed by the sound of Remus’s voice. He realises he’s been gripping the arms of his chair, curling and uncurling his hands. His fingers tremble as they begin to stroke the engravings. They move along the intricate patterns of snakes and ivy that circle each other, touching the sharp edges and the smooth curves. His heartbeat is slowing down. He lets out a long breath.
The conversation has once again become a background noise, and Sirius is concentrating on the feel of the wood beneath his hands, when he hears his name spoken.
“…What do you think, Sirius?”
He looks up and there is Remus, watching him, head tilted, a slight smile on his face. Sirius goes white, then red, and hears Snape murmur something about insane Gryffindors who lost what little mind they had in Azkaban, but he doesn’t care because Remus is looking at him and frowning.
Sirius looks away.
And the moon be still as bright
Harry is telling Sirius about his Firebolt, how it feels under his hands, what the crowd sounds like when he’s just caught the Snitch, what Malfoy looks like when Gryffindor has beaten Slytherin once again. There is joy on his face, on both their faces, like they can feel the wind and smell the wild air. Remus considers whether he is really hungry and how much of an effort it would take for him to walk back downstairs later.
“Does it hurt terribly, Remus?”
“I’ll be fine, Molly. Thank you. Just need to rest.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own room?”
“Yes, Molly, I’m going there, just wanted a slice of toast…”
“I could bring you a bite to eat, really Remus, it’s no trouble…”
“Thank you, Molly, but there’s no need, I’m perfectly capable…”
“You alright there, Moony?”
Sirius stands in the doorway, blocking the way to the kitchen. Remus can smell his shampoo and the clean dog smell Sirius seems to carry around these days. Molly’s fingers tighten their grip on his arm.
“I was just telling Remus that he shouldn’t be wandering around the house in his state…”
“I’m sure he appreciates it.”
Molly is silenced for a moment. When she opens her mouth to speak, Sirius beats her to it.
“Why don’t you let me take care of him, Molly? I heard Ginny was just looking for you.”
Molly snaps her mouth shut, gives Remus a suspicious look, and walks past Sirius to the kitchen. She slams it shut behind him, but Sirius has already moved to put his head beneath Remus’s arm and his hand on his back, and, after a brief scuffle when Remus tries to move away, they start to walk up the stairs.
“You were rude to her.”
“Oh spare me the sermon, you don’t like her any more than I do.”
“I, nevertheless, manage to be polite.”
“How you manage to be polite when she is all but shoving you away from her precious children…”
“Was Ginny really looking for her?”
“Hell, no, she’s hiding from her mother in the attic. Smart girl.”
They pause to let Remus catch his breath.
“She is a smart girl. She used to have a crush on Harry, but she seems to have got over it.”
“Are you saying she’s too smart to have a crush on my godson?”
“No, Sirius, I was just saying…”
“In any case, you’re wrong. She hasn’t got over it, she’s just figured out that she needs to be less obvious to get him. That’s why she’s smart.”
“Well, if you say so. Although I’m not convinced that her strategy will work.”
“Why not? Worked for me.”
This time it’s Remus who stops, and stares at Sirius.
“When were you ever stealthy? You used to make all the fit girls gather around you in one cluster so you could make your choice, and then just point your finger at the one you’d picked! You made Peter go and ask them for you when you couldn’t be bothered! You serenaded them at the dinner table!”
“That was James…”
“You always made sure you had an audience before you announced your fancy!”
“I was stealthy with you.”
Remus almost doesn’t hear, and then pretends that he didn’t, and then realises he’s been silent for so long that Sirius knows that he did.
“And it worked.”
Remus says nothing. Only when Sirius moves closer and starts rubbing circles on Remus’s back he lifts his head and speaks.
“Thank you for helping me to my room, Sirius. I should be fine from here. Good night.”
He closes the door to Sirius’s face before he can say anything. He goes to the window at the other end of the room so he can’t listen to the sound of the footsteps moving away. He stands there for an hour before the banging of the kitchen door downstairs can hide any other noise.
Part Two: The Eloquence of Action
For the sword outwears its sheath
Three days before the full moon Remus comes into Sirius’s room, closes the door and pins Sirius against the wall. A breath away from Sirius’s lips he stops.
“What do you want?”
Sirius stumbles against the wall. Remus hasn’t touched him since that night at the Shrieking Shack.
Hasn’t allowed himself to be touched.
“You Remus. Always you.”
Remus stares at him for a moment, trying to decide what to do, trying to understand what Sirius had said. Then
“You want me to touch you?”
Sirius lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. This he knows the answer to.
“Yes.”
Remus looks at him, then his eyes become mindless and suddenly Sirius can feel his lips on his own, roaming to memorise the shape and the texture, then licking his lower lip from one side to the other in that way that used to make him forget all about finesse and want to just plunder, open his mouth and just push his tongue at Remus’s with the vague idea that this will lead to something. But then Remus starts to suck at his tongue and Sirius becomes aware that his hands are being held above his head with one hand, while the other is tearing at his shirt. The first button is the most difficult, but after that Remus doesn’t bother and he can feel the fabric being torn across his chest, and Moony’s hand moving from neck to nipple to stomach, hard enough to leave bruises, but soft enough to make him shiver.
Remus lifts his head and Sirius can’t look him in the eye so he’s glad to be turned around. Remus is still holding his wrists and he can’t move but the other hand is stroking the back of his neck, then sauntering downwards slowly as Remus’s mouth starts to press his teeth on the side of his neck, with just enough bite for Sirius to know he’s there. And his hand is crawling down to where Sirius’s pyjama bottoms are tied and Remus’s hand is on Sirius’s stomach and then his trousers are at his ankles. And clearly Remus has become really good at wandless magic because Sirius can feel smoothness and warmth inside him, and then Remus’s finger, and then his cock and Sirius has to close his eyes and hold on to the wall. The teeth on his shoulder and the fingers on his wrist bring him back just as Remus puts his hand to Sirius’s cock and he can barely see the explosion behind his eyelids.
And the soul wears out the breast
Remus doesn’t fall asleep tangled up with Sirius, their hearts beating in unison, or wake up the next day to repeat the performance. He goes back to his room and downs a bottle of whiskey, Muggle stuff that won’t know he’s a werewolf. He doesn’t pass out till three hours later but luckily all the thoughts he’s had will be forgotten the next morning.
The next day, faced with a grinning Sirius, he ignores the puzzled faces of Molly and Kingsley, and the knowing ones of Bill and Tonks. He doesn’t speak to Sirius all day, not until he is cornered into Buckbeak’s room on his way to bed. Meeting Sirius’s eyes is something he’s been avoiding, but now, now he wants to just end this tension that has been building up and if he has to tear either one of them apart to do that then he will.
“What the fuck is going on Moony?”
Remus closes his eyes, sinking against the wall. There’s nothing he can say that will make Sirius understand why. Why he can’t be touched or become Moony again or be brought back to life. But looking at Sirius he can see that an explanation is not what is required.
“Do you want me Sirius?”
Sirius is breathless for a moment, surprised by Remus’s answer. Then he nods, just once, firmly, and is pushed against the wall as Remus begins to lick his neck where the pulse is getting faster. Remus can hear anger and confusion melt into the pounding rhythm of want, rhythm he can hear across rooms and see in the shaking of Sirius’s hands when Remus passes behind him. He bites down and feels Sirius become still for a moment, waiting for Remus to let go. Remus doesn’t. He breathes and the surrounding skin gets goose-pumps as Remus starts to lick the piece of skin between his teeth. Leaving a mark on him will please Sirius, and this Remus can give. He can feel Sirius’s hands wander down his back and he growls, lifting his head to stop Sirius’s complaint with his mouth as he pins Sirius’s hands to his sides. Hands and mouth occupied, he starts to rub his body across Sirius’s, moving sideways, rolling his hips, pressing one thigh between Sirius’s, remembering just the right twists to do to make Sirius moan. Remus lifts his head for a moment, lets go of Sirius’s arms with a look warning him not to move them, and unbuttons both their trousers. He then presses his hands on both sides of Sirius’s head, all the while looking at him, and starts to thrust. Slowly, with careful precision, without touching anywhere else, he fucks Sirius into the wall.
And the heart must pause to breathe
It’s always easy to be cruel with Sirius, because he will just take it. Beneath all the bravado he believes that he is damned because he is a Black, and that he doesn’t deserve his friends. It isn’t insecurity, it’s a cold undercurrent to everything else he does and while to most insults, offences and threats Sirius will answer with sarcastic carelessness, to Remus saying he is no good, he can only shiver and say no I’m not. Because he knows Remus knows the worst things he has done, and forgives the selfishness that makes him behave like that, and he trusts Remus to never use it against him. Which is unfortunate, because Remus does, not in malice, but in defence when Sirius gets too close to the things Remus wants to hide. Remus says he cannot love Sirius because he cannot trust him, there is too much horror behind them and he will not take the risk again. He says this knowing that Sirius will take it to mean that he is not worth loving. He doesn’t say it’s because he himself is too dead and he cannot come back to life because that would mean admitting how dead he has been. He combines a tone of reasonable logic with viciousness that surprises Sirius, but doesn’t surprise Remus because it has been shouting in his head for years. He says I can fuck you just as easily as not, it’s not love and never will be. He pushes Sirius to the mattress, tears his pyjamas off and wraps Sirius’s legs around him. Sirius lifts his hands to touch Remus’s shoulder and Remus snarls at him to keep his hands by his sides. He is rough but Sirius looks him in the eye the whole time, doesn’t turn away from what Remus is doing, what Remus has become. Sirius smiles tenderly and wets his lips, and then Remus kisses him.
And love itself have rest
Remus has learnt to ignore the angry looks people are giving him. Tonks glares at him but doesn’t quite accuse him of destroying her cousin. Molly keeps a look of general distaste on her face whenever she speaks to either one of them, but doesn’t really care to discuss it so Remus adds it to the list of things he does which displease Molly, and then forgets about it. The children seem confused, some less than others, by all this tension going around, but Remus finds he doesn’t actually care that much. What he finds disturbing is the lack of reproach from Sirius.
Back in their Marauding days, Sirius, when he had felt himself to be unfairly treated, would produce a sublime rhetorical construction of woe, often with extracts from Paradise Lost, alliterative rhythm, and unsurpassed eloquence. His audience (there was always an audience, usually of young ladies) would have intercepted with sighs and on one memorable occasion, with tears, and would have directed such reproachful looks to whomever Sirius felt was mistreating him, that the culprit would be overcome with guilt (and general condemnation from others) regardless of whether they were in the wrong.
But now there are no anguished words, no suffering looks, no tragic pose. Sirius looks at him, sometimes even smiles, and then looks away. This disturbs Remus on many levels. If there were accusations he could answer them. He has prepared answers for them, not excuses or justifications, but reasons why he is treating Sirius like a piece of tissue after wanking. Why this is what he is doing and that’s all and if that’s not good enough for you, not what you want, then you can always stop. Of course Remus knows Sirius isn’t going to do that, but as a rhetorical position, it isn’t bad. It’s a position one can defend.
Yet Sirius says nothing, and smiles, even though Remus gets rougher and snarls at him.
Part Three: Since others it hath ceased to move
’Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
Though the night was made for loving
Sirius is clever. He knows Remus won’t let Sirius touch him when they are fucking, but when they are in public there are a million casual touches, platonic, friendly. A clap on the shoulder, a slow slithering across his back when crossing each other on the stairwell, thighs accidentally bumping under the table, a press of fingers when passing the wine. Remus knows these are intentional because Sirius looks so carefully innocent. Sirius knows how to get to him, how to stoke up the frustration and get him closer to losing control.
To say something would mean admitting that there is something going on, So Remus sits through endless meals with Sirius stroking his calf under the dinner table whilst talking animatedly to Harry, and getting approving winks from Bill and disgusted mumbles from Snape. It is never overt, nor something anyone could comment on, but there are enough casual touches between them for people to notice how friendly they are.
Yet they are not really friends anymore. There is tension, and anger, and desire, and disappointment, and things that make Sirius moan out nonsense names when Remus is fucking him, and things that make Remus stop in mid-sentence when Sirius passes behind him, but not friendship. Friends don’t do that to each other. Yet there is something that gets past everyone else, a shared understanding of some kind even though they can no longer finish each other’s sentences.
“What are you up to?”
“Why, whatever do you mean, Remus?”
Remus says nothing, just looks at Sirius.
“If you are trying to ask whether it is my plan to drive you mad, then the answer would be yes.”
Remus turns to leave but Sirius grabs him by the collar.
“What’s going on? Why won’t you let me touch you?”
Remus looks at him hard, and his voice is too intentionally cold to be calm.
“Do you enjoy what we do, Sirius?”
Sirius, equally serious and forceful.
“I love it. And I want to do the same to you. Why won’t you let me?”
Silence. Remus lets out a breath.
“I’m afraid that is beyond my abilities.”
“Why, Remus?”
Remus doesn’t answer, looks away.
“Why?”
Remus says nothing, and when Sirius lifts his finger to trail along Remus’s cheek, he gives Sirius a bitter smile, kisses his finger, and walks out the door.
And the day returns too soon
Remus has fallen asleep in the garden. The sun is shining and the wind is strong, but he dozes on, ignorant of the way his hair moves with the breeze. What looks colourless and dead inside the harsh light of Grimmauld Place becomes old bronze and shining copper outside in the sun. His skin is pale, but there are a few freckles on his nose, and Sirius knows, on his back and stomach.
Sirius has watched him from the window in the library for the past hour, watched him set out with a book and a cup of tea. He saw him become so engrossed with reading that he forgot the tea until he was cold, and then drunk it anyway, and continued with his book. After a while he set the book down beside him, carefully marked with a slip of paper, and lay on his back with his hands crossed on his stomach. After fifteen minutes of watching Remus sleep, Sirius becomes convinced that he is in fact asleep. He comes out of the house, and sits on the grass beside Remus.
He used to enjoy watching Remus sleep, back in school from his own bed next to Remus’s, and then from Remus’s bed beside him. Later when they shared a flat and a bed and little else except suspicion, he looked for signs of betrayal in the sleeping man. Remus shows a little more of himself asleep than when awake, but there is always a façade, hiding his true face, or rather his true face has become the façade. There is always an awareness that it isn’t safe to show everything, and Sirius used to enjoy breaking Remus’s control, make him reveal things that weren’t safe and appropriate. A long time ago.
Remus sleeps, but Sirius is well studied in reading his face. There is nothing so obvious as a frown, but a little tension along his eyebrows, followed by forced relaxation and a total stillness. This suggests that there is something he is trying not to think about, something that creeps back to his brain while he tells himself not to think about it. Or a lump on the ground that causes a brief discomfort. Sirius knows too well that he is not infallible when it comes to Remus and what he is really thinking. He does, however, know how to get a reaction of some kind from Remus.
Remus turns his head to the side. He could never sleep comfortably on his back, always tried to turn his face into the pillow or Sirius’s neck, twisting his body sideways to get into the right position. Such light movements are a sign that he is about to wake. Sirius considers briefly whether he should go back to the house before he can be caught staring or stalking, then decides against it. He decides to be brave.
Remus wakes with Sirius’s fingertips trailing a line along his arm, from the wrist to the elbow. Sirius sees the instant Remus becomes awake, the pulse beneath his finger is pounding and the stillness of the body beneath him suggests a readiness to pounce. He grins.
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
At dinner, Sirius takes hold of his hand, and keeps it in his throughout the meal. His thumb is making small circles on Remus’s palm, stroking the fine skin on his wrist, and Remus appears to lose his ability to breathe until Sirius turns to look at him and says: “It’s alright, Moony”. Stricken, Remus pulls his hand back, stands up abruptly and storms out of the room. He is still shaking when Sirius finds him two minutes later, and takes both if his hands in his own.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what, Remus?”
Sirius begins to stroke his wrists again, and Remus loses track of his thoughts.
“Just can’t. Do this. Can’t.”
“Can’t let yourself be touched?”
Remus’s eyes are wild and he doesn’t answer. He stumbles to stand up.
“Look. I just. There are things.”
“What are you afraid of? That if I touch you would feel something?”
Remus is silent.
“Or that you’d feel nothing, that there’s nothing left in you alive enough to feel?”
Remus stands still for a long while.
Then, slowly, his hands move to his collar, and he opens the top button. He looks at Sirius, then looks back down again, at the next button, carefully extricated from the buttonhole. Then the next. His hands have stopped shaking, but they are slow, careful. He pulls his shirt out from his trousers, opens the last two buttons. Looks at Sirius. Drops his shirt on the chair.
The button on his trousers is tighter, and his thumbs are clammy against his stomach when he eventually manages to open it. The zip is easy, but his hands are slow and silent. His breathing is fast and unsteady and loud in his ears, and he doesn’t look up when at last he takes off his trousers. Socks on the chair, shoes on the floor beside it. Boxers on the top of the pile.
Remus looks up, and takes a step toward Sirius, still sitting on the bed. Two more steps and he is standing close enough to hear the other man’s heart pounding.
There is awe, and fear, and uncertainty in his eyes, but Sirius’s hands know what to do as they move across Remus’s skin. Light fingertips on his hipbones, a steady thumb stroke where the thigh meets the stomach. His breath an inch away from Remus’s stomach as he looks up.
“What do you want, Remus?”
By the light of the moon
The window is open and the light coming through is harsh, revelling in the scars and the wrinkles on their skin. The sheets are old and musty, the bed is narrow (large enough for a sixteen-year-old Sirius), and the wooden posts are worn with age.
Remus twitches every time Sirius kisses his hipbone. He bites his lip when Sirius licks the inside of his elbow. He strokes Sirius’s back when he is fucking him.
Remus sleeps with his face in Sirius’s neck, his hand on Sirius’s stomach. Sirius keeps his hand on Remus’s arm, lazily moving his thumb over Remus’s elbow. When Remus shivers, and starts to move away, he presses his mouth on the arm beneath his neck, and Remus becomes still again.
The End
Notes: All poetry used in this story is by Lord Byron. The title and the subtitles are from the poem ‘So we’ll go no more a roving’. The title of the first part is from Don Juan, Canto I, st. 215, the second part is, I think, from Byron but I am not sure where, the third part from ‘On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year’.
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Go No More A-Roving
Date: 2005-04-14 12:15 pm (UTC)Re: Go No More A-Roving
Date: 2005-04-15 02:44 am (UTC)Re: Go No More A-Roving
From:no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 12:16 pm (UTC)*blinks*
*Dies*
That was fucking brilliant. Thank-you.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:46 am (UTC)Thank you for commenting and I'm glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:51 am (UTC)Sorry, got a bit carried away there, but thank you very much for commenting and I'm thrilled that you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 01:26 pm (UTC)^_^
no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 01:34 pm (UTC)I love that bit (I loved all but this jumped out at me), when I imagine Sirius in his reckless marauder days I see his behaviour as being something like this, reciting incredibly fanciful tales in an undeniably eloquent tone, dripping with witticisms and seductive looks, always in order to gain the hearts an minds of his audience.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:56 am (UTC)Thanks for commenting and I'm glad you liked.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:57 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 02:57 pm (UTC)I can't think of a better description than that. Exquisitely painful. Exquisitely beautiful. Exquisitely delicate.
Your prose is incredible, and the storyline perfection.
One of the best pieces I've ever read.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 03:22 pm (UTC)And of course it was very painful, but beautifully so.x
kx
no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 05:03 pm (UTC)There's so many things I like about this fic, you capture so many details and I LOVE the way you sketch out with sharp details scattered here and there in the sex scenes. I've admired the way you pull out the character details since I read your piece at remus_hermione.
There are Molly and the Weasleys, who are staying in 12, Grimmauld Place and battling bad moods and premonitions with rich food, cleaning products, and eternal good cheer. ee! very funny details, and Molly & the Weasleys sounds like a band name :)
nitpicks (sorry!):
1)your pov changes are confusing (changes between sections is fine, but within sections, I'm confused as to whose viewpoint we are looking out from, Remus? Sirius?) (it's only in a couple of your sections.
2) it's easier for me to read in lj format when there's a **, ## :: or something between sections, rather than just a bolded line. Those were really well chosen section headings, and added a lot to the scenes.
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Date: 2005-04-15 03:07 am (UTC)I'm sorry if the POV were confusing,I must remember that what makes sense in my brain might not work outside it. As for the format, I'm just learning to work out html and separating paragraphs is something I know I'm not good at, so sorry about that.
That poem just has so many interesting things about it.
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From:XDDD
Date: 2005-04-14 06:34 pm (UTC)*can't think of a more elaborated comment, I'm sleepy*
Re: XDDD
Date: 2005-04-15 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 07:19 pm (UTC)This is cool. As much as passionate LLaL's-era stories are lovely, touches of reality like this are interesting because *everyhting is so complicated* with these men. Sirius was like a wrecked ship in 95, but Remus wore his wounds on the inside, and it's hard to say who would have a harder time in a relationship. I like how you capture Sirius' desperateness -- I've always said that that was why he and Harry were so attached so quickly, because they needed to be -- and the way Remus not only doesn't know how to love, but fears that lack of knowledge. This works on so many levels.
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Date: 2005-04-14 07:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-04-14 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:11 am (UTC)*breathes*
Date: 2005-04-15 12:44 am (UTC)I like how you show the differences between Sirius and Remus in this. How you actually chart Remus's reasons, from this:
He has not been dead these thirteen years, he has done things, had conversations with to people, moved about. He hasn’t closed himself up completely. There has been life, but it’s been very different from what he planned with his friends. He doesn’t regret his life.
To this: Why he can’t be touched or become Moony again or be brought back to life. But looking at Sirius he can see that an explanation is not what is required
and then, this:Remus sleeps with his face in Sirius’s neck, his hand on Sirius’s stomach. Sirius keeps his hand on Remus’s arm, lazily moving his thumb over Remus’s elbow. When Remus shivers, and starts to move away, he presses his mouth on the arm beneath his neck, and Remus becomes still again.
I do love how complicated this story is, that the past is tangled in the present, and how even though Sirius may wish things were (in the opening sentence), he actually accepts how things are. He doesn't like it, but accepts it, and I find it strange that most people can't see that.
I like your hestitating Remus, and his 'passive aggressive' way in dealing with Sirius. He humps him, but doesn't touch him, although they shared the most intimate of acts, they aren't intimate at the beginning, and Sirius the human dismarming charm (to gak from writer
Thanks for having a smoothly written narrative, where you didn't feel the need to rush or make dire! pronouncements! on the nature of a relationship that can only be hinted at, but never truly understood.
Re: *breathes*
Date: 2005-04-15 03:17 am (UTC)This is what I found most interesting about the thing of not wanting to be touched, that touching doesn't necessarily mean closeness and love, but it can be a way of getting under somenone's skin (as Sirius proves).
Also there is no veil in this world. It doesn't happen. *shakes fist at JKR* They've had enough suffering as it is, no need for more!
Thank you for commenting!
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Date: 2005-04-15 01:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 05:29 am (UTC)I don't know why, but it was really sad. Even in the ending.
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Date: 2005-04-15 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 11:27 am (UTC)Remus says he cannot love Sirius because he cannot trust him, there is too much horror behind them and he will not take the risk again. He says this knowing that Sirius will take it to mean that he is not worth loving. He doesn’t say it’s because he himself is too dead and he cannot come back to life because that would mean admitting how dead he has been.
You nearly had me in tears at that point! I really liked where you ended it too, on a happy note.
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Date: 2005-04-15 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 07:41 pm (UTC)This bit went right to me:
It isn’t insecurity, it’s a cold undercurrent to everything else he does and while to most insults, offences and threats Sirius will answer with sarcastic carelessness, to Remus saying he is no good, he can only shiver and say no I’m not.
I absolutely love this, and would you mind if I friended you?
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Date: 2005-04-16 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 11:37 pm (UTC)I do love the characterisation here, and the way that they deal with each other. And the details make it just so real.
It's such a painful story to read, but it's a beautiful sort of pain that really defines the Remus and Sirius relationship. Absolutely lovely. :)
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Date: 2005-04-16 02:51 am (UTC)