FIC! Sirius and The Potters, PG+
I have been rather verbose in my writings lately! This might have something to do with the chocolate and the not sleeping, which explains why all my fic turns out crack. But I have a few new fics, a couple of updates (including Broomstick! Believe it or not. But you should believe it as it will be up soonsish.) and just general mayhem in doc files. ANYWAY.
This is an extremely belated birthday fic for my dearest sazzlette, and yes it is also crack, crack involving three generations of the Potters and Sirius, that slut. I apologize, but I also make no apologies, because there is just something wrong with me. ♥
Sirius and The Potters
James Potter is the first boy Sirius ever kissed.
He isn't Sirius' first kiss, of course, that honour went to Sarah Shacklebolt when they were thirteen and the third-years decided to play games that involved a whole lot of alcohol that Remus (of all people!, but Rosmerta had a soft spot for him) had charmed his way into acquiring. And James certainly isn't the only boy that Sirius has kissed; later in sixth year there would be Fabian Prewett (who was two years older, wore leather motorcycle jackets and smoked Muggle cigarettes) for a few months, and later still there would be Remus Lupin for a great deal longer.
But James is the first boy, and this is how it happened:
First, it should be explained that Sirius and James had always been thick as thieves (and delinquents, and pranksters); ever since James made fun of Sirius for being in Gryffindor and Sirius retaliated by throwing James into the pond. This was followed by a slew of escalating pranks (the height of which had Sirius resisting gravity for two days and James turning colours every time he spoke) until they both agreed that scrawny Severus Snape was a more deserving target of their creative genius. They went on to recruit Remus, a bookish type with brilliant ideas, and Peter Pettigrew, a bit of a patsy but always willing to execute a prank. However the fact remained that for most of their Hogwarts years, James and Sirius were inseparable.
So it came as no great surprise, really, that when James fell in love with Lily Evans, but felt that he lacked the required experience to woo her, the first person he turned to was Sirius.
“Sirius,” he had said with large, pleading eyes. Doe eyes, Sirius had always called them, and then when James had become Prongs it was only all too appropriate. “Sirius, my darling best mate of best mates, with your shiny raven hair and sparkling cobbler eyes -”
“It's cobalt, you daft idiot. Cobblers are some Muggle thing.” Sirius had interrupted snappishly. Really, if James was going to beg and plead with him for something, he really ought to do it right, Sirius felt.
“- sparkling cobalt eyes,” James had continued without missing a beat, “and glorious profile and muscular build -”
“Alright, that's enough for now. What do you want?”
“I need you to kiss me.”
Sirius had blinked, three times, very slowly. “I'm sorry, I swear I just heard you say that you wanted me to kiss you.”
“Actually, I said I needed it, because if you dont I wont know how to kiss Lily and then how will she fall in love with me and have my many children, so will you do it?” James had replied, calm as anything.
Sirius gave him a calculating look. “Alright then.”
And before James could thank him, Sirius had curled the fingers of one hand into James' hair, the others around James' tie, and by the force of both combined pulled James close and pressed their lips together. When James opened his mouth to breathe, Sirius had slipped his tongue in, challenging James somehow to back away now that he'd gotten more than he'd asked for. Of course, James had done no such thing, and simply pushed his own tongue against Sirius', and then they'd gone on kissing until Sirius was on his back with James on top of him and their shirts were unbuttoned, and their pants were very uncomfortable and fuck they were dizzy.
Then they heard Peter's noisy footfalls on the stair landing outside and had stopped.
“Are you two roughhousing again? ” Peter had asked, disapproval laced into every word. “I swear, one of these days you'll tear apart the dorm, and McGonagall wont be stuffed to fix it.”
He had been thoroughly confused when James and Sirius started laughing. “What?” he asked impatiently. “She won't.”
And that was how it happened.
*
Mr Potter is the first man Sirius ever kissed.
There has to be careful emphasis placed on who kissed whom, of course: Mr Potter, besides being rather decidedly heterosexual, was also loyally married, not to mention he was James' father.
But Sirius did indeed kiss him, and this is how it happened:
It began with dreams. It was normal for Sirius to be having these kind of dreams, he'd had them since he was thirteen. And it was even normal that recently they had featured less breasts and more flat chests, and other things that were not so flat. But it was summer and he had just turned of age and run away from the House of Black straight to the Potters, who had taken him in with nary a word, and somehow that meant that he was now having those kind of dreams about Mr Potter. He'd have expected to be dreaming about James, after all, they had actually kissed, and it would have made sense. Even Mrs Potter would have made sense, because she may have been James' mum but she was a sassy fox of an older woman, plus she often made sure that he was often filled with blueberry pie.
But he dreamed of Mr Potter, from whom James had inherited his rugged good looks, dreamt of strong tanned hands and wild greying black hair, and woke up needing to cast Cleaning Charms on his bedsheets.
He never told James, of course, because James would probably have hexed him to hell and back (for all that Sirius was a Black, James had often revealed that the Potters had a surprising knack for curses), not to mention he might have told Mr and Mrs Potter and they would have kicked him out.
So instead he spent his days with James pretending as though he wasn't constantly fantasizing about James' dad, only sneaking surreptitious glances every now and then whenever Mr Potter was working out in the garden or some other part of the house. (Mr Potter enjoyed a bit of manual labour every now and then, resulting in an extremely fit body that made Sirius have to sit down every time he saw it.)
But apparently he hadn't been surreptitious enough, because one day Mr Potter took him aside for a chat.
“Sirius,” he began kindly. “I can't help but notice that lately you've been looking rather uncomfortable around me.”
Sirius silently tried not to panic. “Er -”
“I understand, of course, that in your position, you must find it hard to see me -”
Sirius was going to faint. “Well, about that -”
“- and James being so close -”
Sirius hurriedly shoved any thoughts of threesomes away. “I -”
“- what with you running away from your own dad, but I wanted you to know that I'd be more than pleased to take on a father figure role for you, in fact I was hoping that I had already done -”
Oh. He wasn't about to be kicked out after all. Sirius barked a laugh of relief. “Oh, oh, yes, absolutely, I'm very grateful.”
And then, inexplicably, because he couldn't just let a good thing happen without trying to destroy it (damn those Marauder tendancies) - he leaned over, tilted his head up and kissed Mr Potter full on the lips.
There was a long moment in which Mr Potter was absolutely still against Sirius, and Sirius suddenly realized exactly just what he'd done, then made a sort of yowling whimper and pulled back, preparing to dodge a hex.
“Ah,” Mr Potter said instead, a little bit awkwardly but mostly understandingly. “I'm terribly flattered, Sirius, but - why don't you try James? I occasionally get that vibe from him,” he said thoughtfully.
And that was how it happened.
*
Harry is the first boy Sirius has kissed since becoming a man.
He has kissed many other men, of course, by now - but Harry is still a boy, might always be one in Sirius' eyes. The fact that he is also James' boy does not escape him, and off-handedly he thinks it might be a perversion, or an obsession that he has with the male Potters.
But he has kissed Harry, and this is how it happened:
It was Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, and Sirius had been stuck in Grimmauld Place for months on end with no escape. He had Remus, of course, but even he wasn't always there, he was often out off on missions for Dumbledore and lately they had been arguing quite a bit. But Sirius wasn't in too bad of a mood for once, Christmas was coming soon, which meant that he and Remus would have make-up celebratory sex, and he'd finally get to see Harry during the holidays.
Not to mention he'd recently found his dad's stash of vintage wine and other liquor, and it really was much easier to be cheerful when imbibed with alcohol.
It was in this state that Harry found him when he arrived, and it brought him up short for a second. “Sirius?”
“Harry, m'lad!” Sirius boomed. “Merry Mistcas! I mean, Christmas!”
“Are you drunk?” Harry asked, perhaps a bit pointlessly.
“Drunk? No, my boy, I am just - filled with Christmas spirit!”
“Right,” Harry said slowly, and grinned a little. “Christmas spirit, I'm sure.”
“What else? Tis the season, and we must uphold the greatest of Christmas traditions, which involve getting smashingly drunk and possibly smashingly smashed and hopefully smashingly shagged as well.”
Harry eyed him thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, did you realise you're sitting under mistletoe?”
Before Sirius could verify this, Harry climbed into his lap and pressed their lips together.
Sirius knew he should be objecting, or at the very least be politely uninvolved, because this was his godson, for god's sake, who was only fifteen, and his dead best friend's child, and basically he should be doing anything but kissing him back.
But the alcohol had blurred away the edges of morality, and only left him with the revelation that Harry had lips very much like Mr Potters', full and soft, but he tasted very much like James, young and boyish and a bit like custard.
And he realised that he was comparing Harry to his father and grandfather, and part of him thought it was hot, but the part of him that was in love with Remus and also not completely drowned in Veela Vodka thought that perhaps it was a little bit disturbing and told him firmly that he ought to stop, because Harry's hands were moving to dangerous spots and if he didn't pull away now he would have this to contend with on top of his hangover.
Not to mention Grimmauld Place was currently full of people, all of which would hex him into oblivion if they found him kissing Harry.
With much more effort than was generally acceptable for extricating oneself from one's godson's clutches, he pulled away.
Harry was breathing hard, his cheeks and lips flushed. He grinned at Sirius. “I like Christmas traditions.”
Sirius had the presence of mind to look up. “There's no mistletoe.”
“Oops,” Harry replied unabashedly, still grinning. “My bad.”
And that was how it happened.
FIN
If anyone would like to leave me comments despite my inherent and apparent insanity, I shall be ever so grateful! Like Sirius was. And if in the more likely case that you would just like to tell me to take a long deep sleep and never wake up, I shall nuzzle into your lap. But ignore you.
This is an extremely belated birthday fic for my dearest sazzlette, and yes it is also crack, crack involving three generations of the Potters and Sirius, that slut. I apologize, but I also make no apologies, because there is just something wrong with me. ♥
Sirius and The Potters
James Potter is the first boy Sirius ever kissed.
He isn't Sirius' first kiss, of course, that honour went to Sarah Shacklebolt when they were thirteen and the third-years decided to play games that involved a whole lot of alcohol that Remus (of all people!, but Rosmerta had a soft spot for him) had charmed his way into acquiring. And James certainly isn't the only boy that Sirius has kissed; later in sixth year there would be Fabian Prewett (who was two years older, wore leather motorcycle jackets and smoked Muggle cigarettes) for a few months, and later still there would be Remus Lupin for a great deal longer.
But James is the first boy, and this is how it happened:
First, it should be explained that Sirius and James had always been thick as thieves (and delinquents, and pranksters); ever since James made fun of Sirius for being in Gryffindor and Sirius retaliated by throwing James into the pond. This was followed by a slew of escalating pranks (the height of which had Sirius resisting gravity for two days and James turning colours every time he spoke) until they both agreed that scrawny Severus Snape was a more deserving target of their creative genius. They went on to recruit Remus, a bookish type with brilliant ideas, and Peter Pettigrew, a bit of a patsy but always willing to execute a prank. However the fact remained that for most of their Hogwarts years, James and Sirius were inseparable.
So it came as no great surprise, really, that when James fell in love with Lily Evans, but felt that he lacked the required experience to woo her, the first person he turned to was Sirius.
“Sirius,” he had said with large, pleading eyes. Doe eyes, Sirius had always called them, and then when James had become Prongs it was only all too appropriate. “Sirius, my darling best mate of best mates, with your shiny raven hair and sparkling cobbler eyes -”
“It's cobalt, you daft idiot. Cobblers are some Muggle thing.” Sirius had interrupted snappishly. Really, if James was going to beg and plead with him for something, he really ought to do it right, Sirius felt.
“- sparkling cobalt eyes,” James had continued without missing a beat, “and glorious profile and muscular build -”
“Alright, that's enough for now. What do you want?”
“I need you to kiss me.”
Sirius had blinked, three times, very slowly. “I'm sorry, I swear I just heard you say that you wanted me to kiss you.”
“Actually, I said I needed it, because if you dont I wont know how to kiss Lily and then how will she fall in love with me and have my many children, so will you do it?” James had replied, calm as anything.
Sirius gave him a calculating look. “Alright then.”
And before James could thank him, Sirius had curled the fingers of one hand into James' hair, the others around James' tie, and by the force of both combined pulled James close and pressed their lips together. When James opened his mouth to breathe, Sirius had slipped his tongue in, challenging James somehow to back away now that he'd gotten more than he'd asked for. Of course, James had done no such thing, and simply pushed his own tongue against Sirius', and then they'd gone on kissing until Sirius was on his back with James on top of him and their shirts were unbuttoned, and their pants were very uncomfortable and fuck they were dizzy.
Then they heard Peter's noisy footfalls on the stair landing outside and had stopped.
“Are you two roughhousing again? ” Peter had asked, disapproval laced into every word. “I swear, one of these days you'll tear apart the dorm, and McGonagall wont be stuffed to fix it.”
He had been thoroughly confused when James and Sirius started laughing. “What?” he asked impatiently. “She won't.”
And that was how it happened.
*
Mr Potter is the first man Sirius ever kissed.
There has to be careful emphasis placed on who kissed whom, of course: Mr Potter, besides being rather decidedly heterosexual, was also loyally married, not to mention he was James' father.
But Sirius did indeed kiss him, and this is how it happened:
It began with dreams. It was normal for Sirius to be having these kind of dreams, he'd had them since he was thirteen. And it was even normal that recently they had featured less breasts and more flat chests, and other things that were not so flat. But it was summer and he had just turned of age and run away from the House of Black straight to the Potters, who had taken him in with nary a word, and somehow that meant that he was now having those kind of dreams about Mr Potter. He'd have expected to be dreaming about James, after all, they had actually kissed, and it would have made sense. Even Mrs Potter would have made sense, because she may have been James' mum but she was a sassy fox of an older woman, plus she often made sure that he was often filled with blueberry pie.
But he dreamed of Mr Potter, from whom James had inherited his rugged good looks, dreamt of strong tanned hands and wild greying black hair, and woke up needing to cast Cleaning Charms on his bedsheets.
He never told James, of course, because James would probably have hexed him to hell and back (for all that Sirius was a Black, James had often revealed that the Potters had a surprising knack for curses), not to mention he might have told Mr and Mrs Potter and they would have kicked him out.
So instead he spent his days with James pretending as though he wasn't constantly fantasizing about James' dad, only sneaking surreptitious glances every now and then whenever Mr Potter was working out in the garden or some other part of the house. (Mr Potter enjoyed a bit of manual labour every now and then, resulting in an extremely fit body that made Sirius have to sit down every time he saw it.)
But apparently he hadn't been surreptitious enough, because one day Mr Potter took him aside for a chat.
“Sirius,” he began kindly. “I can't help but notice that lately you've been looking rather uncomfortable around me.”
Sirius silently tried not to panic. “Er -”
“I understand, of course, that in your position, you must find it hard to see me -”
Sirius was going to faint. “Well, about that -”
“- and James being so close -”
Sirius hurriedly shoved any thoughts of threesomes away. “I -”
“- what with you running away from your own dad, but I wanted you to know that I'd be more than pleased to take on a father figure role for you, in fact I was hoping that I had already done -”
Oh. He wasn't about to be kicked out after all. Sirius barked a laugh of relief. “Oh, oh, yes, absolutely, I'm very grateful.”
And then, inexplicably, because he couldn't just let a good thing happen without trying to destroy it (damn those Marauder tendancies) - he leaned over, tilted his head up and kissed Mr Potter full on the lips.
There was a long moment in which Mr Potter was absolutely still against Sirius, and Sirius suddenly realized exactly just what he'd done, then made a sort of yowling whimper and pulled back, preparing to dodge a hex.
“Ah,” Mr Potter said instead, a little bit awkwardly but mostly understandingly. “I'm terribly flattered, Sirius, but - why don't you try James? I occasionally get that vibe from him,” he said thoughtfully.
And that was how it happened.
*
Harry is the first boy Sirius has kissed since becoming a man.
He has kissed many other men, of course, by now - but Harry is still a boy, might always be one in Sirius' eyes. The fact that he is also James' boy does not escape him, and off-handedly he thinks it might be a perversion, or an obsession that he has with the male Potters.
But he has kissed Harry, and this is how it happened:
It was Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, and Sirius had been stuck in Grimmauld Place for months on end with no escape. He had Remus, of course, but even he wasn't always there, he was often out off on missions for Dumbledore and lately they had been arguing quite a bit. But Sirius wasn't in too bad of a mood for once, Christmas was coming soon, which meant that he and Remus would have make-up celebratory sex, and he'd finally get to see Harry during the holidays.
Not to mention he'd recently found his dad's stash of vintage wine and other liquor, and it really was much easier to be cheerful when imbibed with alcohol.
It was in this state that Harry found him when he arrived, and it brought him up short for a second. “Sirius?”
“Harry, m'lad!” Sirius boomed. “Merry Mistcas! I mean, Christmas!”
“Are you drunk?” Harry asked, perhaps a bit pointlessly.
“Drunk? No, my boy, I am just - filled with Christmas spirit!”
“Right,” Harry said slowly, and grinned a little. “Christmas spirit, I'm sure.”
“What else? Tis the season, and we must uphold the greatest of Christmas traditions, which involve getting smashingly drunk and possibly smashingly smashed and hopefully smashingly shagged as well.”
Harry eyed him thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, did you realise you're sitting under mistletoe?”
Before Sirius could verify this, Harry climbed into his lap and pressed their lips together.
Sirius knew he should be objecting, or at the very least be politely uninvolved, because this was his godson, for god's sake, who was only fifteen, and his dead best friend's child, and basically he should be doing anything but kissing him back.
But the alcohol had blurred away the edges of morality, and only left him with the revelation that Harry had lips very much like Mr Potters', full and soft, but he tasted very much like James, young and boyish and a bit like custard.
And he realised that he was comparing Harry to his father and grandfather, and part of him thought it was hot, but the part of him that was in love with Remus and also not completely drowned in Veela Vodka thought that perhaps it was a little bit disturbing and told him firmly that he ought to stop, because Harry's hands were moving to dangerous spots and if he didn't pull away now he would have this to contend with on top of his hangover.
Not to mention Grimmauld Place was currently full of people, all of which would hex him into oblivion if they found him kissing Harry.
With much more effort than was generally acceptable for extricating oneself from one's godson's clutches, he pulled away.
Harry was breathing hard, his cheeks and lips flushed. He grinned at Sirius. “I like Christmas traditions.”
Sirius had the presence of mind to look up. “There's no mistletoe.”
“Oops,” Harry replied unabashedly, still grinning. “My bad.”
And that was how it happened.
FIN
If anyone would like to leave me comments despite my inherent and apparent insanity, I shall be ever so grateful! Like Sirius was. And if in the more likely case that you would just like to tell me to take a long deep sleep and never wake up, I shall nuzzle into your lap. But ignore you.