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When The Time Is Right	By : SabineLaGrande Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2393 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-When The Time Is Right
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this derivative work.

It had been a long time.

It was midsummer. A new moon was high over Grimmauld Place, and Sirius was starting to
get bored. He stole down the corridor, tiptoeing past the curtained picture of
his mother. Sirius poked his head into the extra room, the room that was
supposed to be Harry�s, he thought bitterly. Something on the desk caught his
eye. A quill. He had a thought, but he didn�t know
what it was.

It had been a long time. How long had it been? He didn�t
precisely recall how long he�d been in Azkaban- they�d told him, and he�d made
a point not to remember. And now that he�d escaped, that he had something
resembling normalcy for the first time in years, he was starting to hate it. He
just couldn�t shake off his restlessness. He wanted to go, wanted to do, wanted
to be anywhere but in that hateful old house. He�d held it off for a while
tonight, chased some rats with Buckbeak, tried to be happy, but it just
wouldn�t come. He was starting to wonder if the old Sirius was dead, if being
happy was just an act he was putting on to please everyone.

And now that damned quill was reminding him of something,
something important, and he just didn�t know what.

It had been a long time. Winter was particularly harsh that
year, Sirius remembered, and even with a fire the sixth year boys� dormitory
was freezing at night. He remembered the beginning very clearly.

�Sirius,� he heard in his dreams. He wondered why the dragon
was calling him and why it insisted on using Remus�s voice. �Sirius,� the dragon
said again, and pawed him on the shoulder. Strange, he thought dragons had
claws� �Sirius,� he heard again, and his eyes opened. Remus, in his pajamas,
looking generally disheveled and nothing like a dragon, stood over him. Sirius
made a questioning sort of noise.

�Too cold, can�t sleep,� muttered Remus. �Can I sleep with
you?�

�Whatever you like,� Sirius said, rolling out of the way.
Yet he woke up the next morning with Remus in his arms.

The rest of it got muddled, got twisted in his mind. Too
many happy thoughts sucked out of him too many times left too many gaps in his
memory. The years until James�s death ran together. All he could remember from
that time were snatches- James�s laugh, Lily�s smile, Peter- he didn�t forget
Peter, since every memory of him was painful. But the memories of being with
Remus, falling in love with Remus, kissing Remus were the memories he had
fought most desperately to keep. He didn�t remember reasons or specifics
anymore. He desperately thought about that time, caught the tail end of a
moment, and tried to hang on for dear life.

It was cold. Sirius hated cold; maybe that�s why he could
remember it. Remus was in his bed again. Sirius tried so hard not to lose his
concentration. Things were becoming clearer.

He couldn�t remember where in the world Remus had gotten the
idea. It didn�t seem like him. Maybe it wasn�t. But the quill tickled his lips,
and he tasted spun sugar. And now- and then, Remus was tracing it down his
body, following the quill with his tongue, chasing the curves of his body down,
down- and Sirius could feel Remus�s mouth on him. He realized he was holding
his breath and let it out slowly.

Sirius mustered his concentration. He couldn�t lose this. He
was kissing Remus now, working up his neck to his ear.

�I want you,� Sirius told Remus, his voice just barely
hitching. But Remus pushed back. Had he been begging? It didn�t sound like the
first time he had asked.

�Not tonight,� Remus told him.

�When?� begged- he was definitely begging- Sirius. Remus
didn�t respond. Sirius held him by the shoulders. He could remember feeling
hurt, desperate, but above all afraid that Remus just didn�t want him. �When, Remus?�

�I�m not ready, Sirius,� Remus told him. And Sirius wanted
to kiss him and hold him and tell him that it was all right, that he could wait
forever. But the desperate part of him was too strong.

�Promise me,� Sirius half-demanded. Oh god, please, please,
please say yes, he remembered thinking. I love you Remus-

Remus lifted Sirius�s hand and held it over his own heart.
�This is yours. And when the time is right,� Remus paused, �all of me is
yours.�

There. He had it. The memory faded, but he had it, something real, something to cling to. He knew what he should do, and he
wasn�t going to do it. The restlessness, the need to do, if for no other reason
than to know that he was still alive, took full control of him now.

He crept down the hallway and opened a bedroom door. A thin
beam of light fell on Remus�s sleeping form. He stepped in, spelled the door
shut, and quickly cast silencing charms over the room. Remus didn�t stir.
Sirius struggled for the correct incantation and pointed his wand at Remus. He
breathed a sigh of relief when thin cords bound Remus�s wrists and ankles to
the bedposts.

Remus started awake, panting. �What the bloody hell?� he asked, voice thick with sleep and fear.

Sirius was on him in an instant, spelling away their
clothes, almost feral. He grabbed at the skin over Remus�s heart. �This is
mine,� he demanded, then kissed Remus as hard as he could. �And this is mine�
and this� and this� and this,� he told him, his hands groping at Remus�s body,
his mouth pressing hard on anything it could reach.

�I thought you forgot,� Remus said, his voice shaking
slightly.

�I thought I did too,� Sirius replied. �But I intend to
collect now.� Sirius heard his breath catch.

�Don�t do this, Sirius,� he pleaded. �Not now. It�s been too
long. Some other time-�

�Look around you, Remus,� he cut him off, his voice half mad
laughter. �A werewolf and a fugitive. We haven�t got
any other time. We haven�t even got this
time. But I�ll be damned if I�m not going to try and steal it.�

Remus kept begging on until Sirius closed his mouth with his
own. He had a thought and broke away. A flick of the wand, and Remus�s water
glass was filled with oil. He took the glass in one hand and started massaging
it into Remus with the other. Remus had stopped trying to protest; it wouldn�t
have helped, because Sirius had stopped listening.

Sirius was ready. And he didn�t stop himself. He pushed
himself into Remus slowly. Then the thinking, restless, desperate part of him
shut off. And he just moved, just felt. He thrust in and out of Remus again and
again, trying to replace all his gaps with Remus, with the feel of Remus, with
the scent of Remus.

Then he felt Remus relaxing, moving with him. And Sirius
tried to make up for too many long years� wait, for too much trying to be
himself without ever being himself, for every memory that he had lost. Somewhere
from out of all of it, Sirius heard Remus cry out, felt him arch his back and
then collapse. And this, this was something that no dementor
could ever take away from him, not if he spent a thousand lifetimes in Azkaban.
Sirius came, shaking and crying, and Remus cried with him.

Sirius released the bonds, and they just lay there, Remus
holding Sirius, until long after the moon set and the sun rose. And Sirius felt
like Sirius again, like he was young and no one could stop him. Then Remus
kissed him, and he knew that he was Sirius again, that he loved Remus and that
Remus loved him and that no one could even touch him.

It had been a long time, but now it was done.
- 1
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When The Time Is Right