fatal love

chapter 149

August droned by, without Sirius really doing anything. He smoked a lot, he got another tattoo, he saw Wormtail and Prongs occasionally. But they were both busy with all the stuff Frank was teaching them, and when he dropped by one of the practice sessions, Sirius had to admit they were a bit behind him.

Frank was apparently teaching them how to cast defensive and offensive spells simultaneously, but that was child's play to Sirius. He'd had to deal with duelling Reg and Walburga at the same time back at Grimmauld Place. He'd tried to help with their training, but he ended up using a couple of spells that James disapproved of, and he left quickly after that, feeling a mix of embarrassed, melancholy and affronted.

So while the others were busy, he sat around bored. Moody gifted him the occasional day out, but that just meant sitting in a grotty cafe while he smoked rather than his own house. The days all became sort of monotonous for the most part, blurring together. The best days were when Remus was in as well to keep him company, and Sirius would even do whatever swotty activity the boy wanted.

The worst day was after the full moon, when Remus returned in the same state as last time, torn up and barely conscious, and Sirius had to heal him.

He'd had broken bones this time, as well. They were easier to heal, actually - no werewolf venom inside, so it was just a simple spell. But seeing Remus' legs buckle as soon as he apparated home, seeing the impossible twist of his arm... it wasn't nice.

He couldn't think of a better phrasing. He didn't really want to dwell on it all that much.

Moody had sent Remus back to the pack in Scotland, as if he expected things to go any differently a second time. They didn't, of course, and this time it took days before Remus could even get out of bed again. But he refused to complain, of course, either to Sirius or Moody.

There had been no blow up beforehand this time, though, no fighting. Sirius had let Remus go without putting up a fuss, even though he hated it, and Remus had said "goodbye" and said "I love you" and that was better. That felt right. It didn't make waiting for him to return any easier, however, and it certainly didn't make Sirius feel anything but sickness when he had to curse Remus for a second time.

It ate away at him, doing that. He got close to vomiting again. It wasn't what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to be, no matter how much Remus said it was okay, or explained it away with rationale and logic. But he steeled himself, and he healed Remus as best he could, and that was that.

But it was the end of August now, and Remus had finally fully recovered. A recovered Remus meant one that was less grateful and more of a prick, but he was the same funny, elusive and attractive prick he had always been. And Sirius enjoyed picking the occasional fight, enjoyed making Remus bitchy and dramatic, because when they bickered over whose turn it was to go shopping, or make dinner, or something equally mundane, it almost always ended in sex. And the sheer amount of time he had on his hands meant there was a lot of sex at the moment. If it wasn't the result of a fight, then Sirius might try to charm Remus, which was ridiculously easy for him by now, or sometimes he'd be doing something that wasn't remotely attractive, and Remus would just pounce on him. Like last week, when he had been playing with the dishwasher and pressing all the buttons, and Remus had taken him right there in the kitchen.

Maybe Remus just had a dishwasher fetish, but Sirius chose to believe it was his unstoppable allure.

That morning, Sirius got to wake up to Remus kissing his neck and the knowledge they had long, unfilled hours ahead of them.

"Mm," Sirius hummed sleepily. "Feels nice, Moons."

"Good," Remus murmured against his throat.

Sirius tried pushing his head down. "Feel nicer if you were lower," he encouraged.