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hp fic: In the Common Room
Title: In the Common Room
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Words: ~1,300
Summary: In which Sirius is a lazy sod, Remus doesn't want to shag in the common room, and Boxing Day is rather dull, all things considered.
Notes: Written for Day One of![[personal profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
winterwolfstarwank. I was on Team Erecto, and the prompt was Boxing Day.
In the Common Room
Remus woke to a dry mouth and a pounding headache and Sirius pinning him to the floor, sprawled over him like he'd mistaken Remus for his bed before he passed out, his face hidden in Remus' throat and his hand curled in Remus' jumper. It was still early, the sky not quite bruised, still heavy and grey between a gap in the curtains, and Remus blinked up at the ceiling for a few moments, brushing his fingers through Sirius' hair as he tried to find the energy to move. His elbow was sitting in a wet patch of carpet, and his left leg was achy, slowly going numb.
"You up, then?" Sirius asked, burrowing closer with a rough, unhappy noise.
"Not really, no. I'm pretty sure I'm actually dead."
"What time did you surrender?"
"I don't know," Remus said. His last clear memory was Mary MacDonald hexing the leftover mistletoe to attack; it might've been a little after midnight. "Early. Did Prongs go down for breakfast yet?"
Sirius snorted into the hollow of Remus' throat. "I doubt it. He's probably still in the toilet, begging for mercy. That's where I left him, anyway."
"Just heaped him on the tiles, did you?"
"Serves him right for trying to drink Madden under the table. That bloke weighs twenty stone stripped down to his kecks."
"Hell. I'm surprised Prongs didn't drown." Remus shifted a little, wincing as the blood started moving in his dead leg. "What about Peter, then?"
"Slipped out with Velma Puckle about two."
"Well done." Remus slid his hand down to Sirius' neck, tucked his cold fingers into Sirius' collar. "He's been trying to pull her for weeks."
Sirius made another noise, this one more than half amused. "It'll never work. She's a foot taller than him, and she fancies Benjy Fenwick."
"Fenwick has a girlfriend."
"I don't make the news, Moony. I just report it." Sirius settled then, breathing slow and easy into the curve of Remus' neck; Remus had nearly fallen asleep again when Sirius pressed his hand to his belly. "You sound manky."
"How does someone sound manky?"
"Your stomach is doing a Hobgoblin's number."
"The whole thing?"
Sirius hummed the chorus of Wizards Do It With Their Wands. "Just the good bits." He stretched up, pressing a slow, wet kiss to Remus' jaw. "You feel like moving yet? Only, the floor is making you bonier than you really are."
"Yeah, all right." Remus didn't feel like moving, now that Sirius mentioned it, but his back and shoulders were starting to ache, and if the feeling didn't return to his foot pretty soon he'd need to go see Pomfrey about a Circulation Charm. He heaved himself up, grunting as the room spun and his headache reminded him who was in charge of things, then collapsed onto the couch in a boneless heap.
Sirius crawled over him immediately, pressing close; he worked his leg between Remus', pushed his hand under Remus' jumper, nosed persistently at Remus' jaw. "Budge up, will you? I want your neck."
"Whatever for?"
"I don't like the way McKinnon looks at you."
The very idea was ridiculous -- Marlene was nice enough, and made a decent partner for potions, but she wouldn't notice Remus outside of class if he painted himself blue and spontaneously caught fire -- but it was easier to just tip his head back and let Sirius kiss a mark into his skin, all soft suction and warm lips and easy flutters of tongue. They were both half hard by the time Sirius pulled away, and Sirius shifted a little, curling his hand in Remus' hair and pressing his cock into Remus' hip.
Remus huffed out a laugh against Sirius' cheek. "You're not going to try and shag me out here, are you?" It wouldn't surprise him; the common room was on Sirius' to-do list, just behind the Astronomy Tower, the Great Hall, and -- for reasons Remus didn't care to examine too closely -- McGonagall's desk.
"I would, if my head wasn't splitting. You shouldn't have let me drink so much."
"You want to go upstairs?"
"I just got comfortable," Sirius said. He ducked his head, biting at Remus' collarbone, his teeth blunt through the thick wool of Remus' jumper.
"We can't stay here all day."
"Of course we can. It's Hogsmeade today. This place will be empty until Puddifoot's closes, and most everyone will go down for the Boxing Day feast after that." He bit at Remus again, this time under the chin, then started digging his hand into Remus' pocket. "You got a wand somewhere?"
Remus reached his hand down to the floor, groping around until his fingers tripped over wood. It was Sirius' wand, a family heirloom with a heavy handle that was carved within an inch of its life. "Here."
"Ta." Sirius shifted around again, taking care to rub his thigh against Remus' cock, then mumbled something Remus couldn't quite hear.
"What was that?"
"An Obscura. No one will see us, and anyone who thinks to sit here will suddenly get hungry."
"I'm still not shagging you out here."
"No?" Sirius smiled, tucking his wand into the couch cushions, then stretched up for a kiss, warm and slow and easy, his tongue nudging at Remus' lips until Remus sighed and let him in, until Remus leaned into it, knotted his fingers in Sirius' hair. This was a terrible idea; Sirius' spellwork wasn't the best first thing in the morning, and an Obscura didn't do much about dampening noise, but it felt too good, the steady, liquid roll of Sirius' hips, the bruising press of Sirius' fingers as he pinned Remus' waist. His head still hurt, a dull throb just behind his temples, but he didn't much care, couldn't stop touching Sirius now that he'd started.
He did stop when the portrait hole creaked, swinging open for a small, chattering group of fourth-year girls, but they walked right past the couch, didn't give it a second look, and Remus closed his eyes as Sirius murmured, "I told you so," into the curve of Remus' jaw, as he twisted until their cocks were lined up, riding together every time Sirius moved. Remus came suddenly, his back arching and his hands clutching at Sirius' shirt; Sirius smiled at him, stroking his thumb over the mark he'd left on Remus' neck, then came with a low moan, his mouth open and wet against Remus' temple.
"We're a mess now," Remus complained, once he caught his breath.
Sirius dug the wand out of the couch cushions and muttered a quiet Tergeo, then curled himself around Remus again. "Go back to sleep, Moony. Once you're feeling better, we're going to do that again."
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Words: ~1,300
Summary: In which Sirius is a lazy sod, Remus doesn't want to shag in the common room, and Boxing Day is rather dull, all things considered.
Notes: Written for Day One of
The Gryffindor Christmas Party was held as a time-honoured but also frankly boring tradition, up until 25 December 1973, when James Potter produced a bottle of Ogden's Old from the bottom of his trunk, had two swallows before passing out on the stairs, then startled awake and half four, shouting that a Graphorn was trodding on his head. The parties became a bit more lively after that, 1976 being a particularly raucous affair, because Sirius Black, through a combination of pigheadedness and poorly enunciated spells, came very close to setting the common room on fire. By and large, Remus Lupin counted 1977 as his personal favorite; the party itself was fairly sedate by Marauders standards, but Boxing Day fell on a Hogsmead Saturday, which cleared Gryffindor Tower of nearly everything but the dust. He and Sirius had the common room to themselves for the better part of the day, and they spent it lying on the couch, doing absolutely nothing.
Remus woke to a dry mouth and a pounding headache and Sirius pinning him to the floor, sprawled over him like he'd mistaken Remus for his bed before he passed out, his face hidden in Remus' throat and his hand curled in Remus' jumper. It was still early, the sky not quite bruised, still heavy and grey between a gap in the curtains, and Remus blinked up at the ceiling for a few moments, brushing his fingers through Sirius' hair as he tried to find the energy to move. His elbow was sitting in a wet patch of carpet, and his left leg was achy, slowly going numb.
"You up, then?" Sirius asked, burrowing closer with a rough, unhappy noise.
"Not really, no. I'm pretty sure I'm actually dead."
"What time did you surrender?"
"I don't know," Remus said. His last clear memory was Mary MacDonald hexing the leftover mistletoe to attack; it might've been a little after midnight. "Early. Did Prongs go down for breakfast yet?"
Sirius snorted into the hollow of Remus' throat. "I doubt it. He's probably still in the toilet, begging for mercy. That's where I left him, anyway."
"Just heaped him on the tiles, did you?"
"Serves him right for trying to drink Madden under the table. That bloke weighs twenty stone stripped down to his kecks."
"Hell. I'm surprised Prongs didn't drown." Remus shifted a little, wincing as the blood started moving in his dead leg. "What about Peter, then?"
"Slipped out with Velma Puckle about two."
"Well done." Remus slid his hand down to Sirius' neck, tucked his cold fingers into Sirius' collar. "He's been trying to pull her for weeks."
Sirius made another noise, this one more than half amused. "It'll never work. She's a foot taller than him, and she fancies Benjy Fenwick."
"Fenwick has a girlfriend."
"I don't make the news, Moony. I just report it." Sirius settled then, breathing slow and easy into the curve of Remus' neck; Remus had nearly fallen asleep again when Sirius pressed his hand to his belly. "You sound manky."
"How does someone sound manky?"
"Your stomach is doing a Hobgoblin's number."
"The whole thing?"
Sirius hummed the chorus of Wizards Do It With Their Wands. "Just the good bits." He stretched up, pressing a slow, wet kiss to Remus' jaw. "You feel like moving yet? Only, the floor is making you bonier than you really are."
"Yeah, all right." Remus didn't feel like moving, now that Sirius mentioned it, but his back and shoulders were starting to ache, and if the feeling didn't return to his foot pretty soon he'd need to go see Pomfrey about a Circulation Charm. He heaved himself up, grunting as the room spun and his headache reminded him who was in charge of things, then collapsed onto the couch in a boneless heap.
Sirius crawled over him immediately, pressing close; he worked his leg between Remus', pushed his hand under Remus' jumper, nosed persistently at Remus' jaw. "Budge up, will you? I want your neck."
"Whatever for?"
"I don't like the way McKinnon looks at you."
The very idea was ridiculous -- Marlene was nice enough, and made a decent partner for potions, but she wouldn't notice Remus outside of class if he painted himself blue and spontaneously caught fire -- but it was easier to just tip his head back and let Sirius kiss a mark into his skin, all soft suction and warm lips and easy flutters of tongue. They were both half hard by the time Sirius pulled away, and Sirius shifted a little, curling his hand in Remus' hair and pressing his cock into Remus' hip.
Remus huffed out a laugh against Sirius' cheek. "You're not going to try and shag me out here, are you?" It wouldn't surprise him; the common room was on Sirius' to-do list, just behind the Astronomy Tower, the Great Hall, and -- for reasons Remus didn't care to examine too closely -- McGonagall's desk.
"I would, if my head wasn't splitting. You shouldn't have let me drink so much."
"You want to go upstairs?"
"I just got comfortable," Sirius said. He ducked his head, biting at Remus' collarbone, his teeth blunt through the thick wool of Remus' jumper.
"We can't stay here all day."
"Of course we can. It's Hogsmeade today. This place will be empty until Puddifoot's closes, and most everyone will go down for the Boxing Day feast after that." He bit at Remus again, this time under the chin, then started digging his hand into Remus' pocket. "You got a wand somewhere?"
Remus reached his hand down to the floor, groping around until his fingers tripped over wood. It was Sirius' wand, a family heirloom with a heavy handle that was carved within an inch of its life. "Here."
"Ta." Sirius shifted around again, taking care to rub his thigh against Remus' cock, then mumbled something Remus couldn't quite hear.
"What was that?"
"An Obscura. No one will see us, and anyone who thinks to sit here will suddenly get hungry."
"I'm still not shagging you out here."
"No?" Sirius smiled, tucking his wand into the couch cushions, then stretched up for a kiss, warm and slow and easy, his tongue nudging at Remus' lips until Remus sighed and let him in, until Remus leaned into it, knotted his fingers in Sirius' hair. This was a terrible idea; Sirius' spellwork wasn't the best first thing in the morning, and an Obscura didn't do much about dampening noise, but it felt too good, the steady, liquid roll of Sirius' hips, the bruising press of Sirius' fingers as he pinned Remus' waist. His head still hurt, a dull throb just behind his temples, but he didn't much care, couldn't stop touching Sirius now that he'd started.
He did stop when the portrait hole creaked, swinging open for a small, chattering group of fourth-year girls, but they walked right past the couch, didn't give it a second look, and Remus closed his eyes as Sirius murmured, "I told you so," into the curve of Remus' jaw, as he twisted until their cocks were lined up, riding together every time Sirius moved. Remus came suddenly, his back arching and his hands clutching at Sirius' shirt; Sirius smiled at him, stroking his thumb over the mark he'd left on Remus' neck, then came with a low moan, his mouth open and wet against Remus' temple.
"We're a mess now," Remus complained, once he caught his breath.
Sirius dug the wand out of the couch cushions and muttered a quiet Tergeo, then curled himself around Remus again. "Go back to sleep, Moony. Once you're feeling better, we're going to do that again."
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