And that\'s the end, and that\'s the start of it

Title: And that\'s the end, and that\'s the start of it
Author: Veresti Tristian
Recipient: gala_apples
Beta/s/: Thank you for betaing Jetby, Chris and Jay.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/s/: Harry Potter/Sirius Black; Aiden Lynch/Harry Potter; Amos Diggory/Seamus Finnegan (mentioned); Blaise Zabini/Draco Malfoy/Zacharias Smith (implied);
Disclaimer: I actually understand that these do very little legally. But I also think that it would be respectful to note that these characters and ideas have been borrowed from J.K. Rowling, and do not belong to me.
Archive: Sure, as long as you ask me via email or IM. This was originally written for the LiveJournal community Sirry_Slash, so please do not fail to mention that!
Warnings: Homosexuality; BDSM (mild); Pajama kink (sort of);
Author\'s notes: Er, yeah, this turned out to be a very odd piece. Don\'t ask me where it came from. Anyways, Merry Christmas to gala_apples. Sorry it\'s so late hun. Also, if there is enough public interest in a sequel, I might be persuaded to write it.

“For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself...\"
-\"Karma Police\" Radiohead

No flowers gently perfumed the room, lulling the mind into an almost catatonic state of relaxation. The sky was not a veil of velvet, embroidered with stars that glittered like freshly cut diamonds, In fact, the room was devoid of light of any kind at all. The candles that should have added an air of romance were surprisingly out of range. Flesh that was flushed from passionate exertion as well as anticipation should have been glowing with the light cast by the strategically placed orbs. And more importantly, no gentle lover awaited him patiently, prepared to sacrifice his or her own comfort in order to sooth his rapidly burgeoning fears.

Despite the fact that the cause was not apparent to the naked eye, the room smelled of stale sweat, and dead blood, with a decidedly rotten smell that permeated everything within it. At its highest peak during mid-day, the sun was shining in a harsh and merciless fashion. The one window in the room was curtain less, allowing all light to filter and subdue the shadows. Hence, there could be no pretence of modesty or any semblance of cover to shield his shame. Coarse cotton, worn and grey with use replaced the fantasy fabrics of choice, such as silk or satin. And most importantly, the man who pinned him down was most certainly not a knight in shining armor.

If Harry hadn\'t already been disillusioned with the harsh reality of the situation, he would have been horrified by the events yet to come.

He opened his eyes and almost instantaneously felt violently ill. Immediately, he was confronted with alcohol clouded brown instead of the clear, warm black orbs he had been wishing for. He was finally able to force his roiling stomach to calm itself, but only out of sheer stubbornness.

Closing his eyes seemed to have the opposite effect he had been striving for. Instead, it merely served to heighten all of his other senses beyond bearing. The overpowering scent of expensive cologne applied much too liberally hit his senses like a freight train. At such a close range, the smell hung heavily in the air like a thick, viscous cloud that even drowned out the stale odor which he had first noticed. Developing an almost immediate dislike of the fragrance, the Gryffindor attempted to block it out, but failed.

Attempting to salvage the situation, Harry reached up to run his fingers through the thick curtain of the other man\'s hair, only to come up short. Knowing that if he opened his eyes, he would find coarse, shortly clipped red hair instead of soft, raven black that he had half expected, Harry kept them firmly shut. He stopped mid-motion and let his hands fall limply to his sides.

But somehow he had managed to let some things slip past the shields he had erected over time. Expectations had been born and nurtured, despite well meant defenses to prevent the birth of them. Pictures of an ideal brand of love had been painted and refined, until these ideas had become a true masterpiece- flawless and perfect.

Now that he reflected upon these ideas, they were absolutely ridiculous. He inwardly scoffed at the thoughts he had so carelessly harbored within his heart of hearts. What had spawned such reckless abandonment? What could possibly excuse the gravity of the mistake he had made? How could he have so ardently believed that he was exempt from such things? His heart ached with the sheer stupidity of his own actions.

At the same time, he couldn\'t deny that small part of him that would not permit this. This very same piece of him cried out that he had indeed loved and loved well.

Arrogance coupled with foolishness had been his downfall. He had truly believed that when he was ready, when he was prepared, he would be able to pick up where he left off. Presented with chances time and time again, he had chosen to ignore all the signs that practically screamed: \"I\'m here, I\'m ready!\" He had gambled his happiness on the off beat chance that he should have to settle for less. The Gryffindor hadn\'t been able to see that it was never less worthy, nor was it taking a step down. Not until it was far too late. It was only after the fact that he had been able to sit back and recognize the ramifications of his decisions. Hindsight is a real bitch. It allows you to finally see what had been in front of you the entire time - something you had been too blind to see from the start.

He had always felt as if a part of him was missing- as if it had been torn away from him at the moment of his birth. He had become so accustomed to the emptiness inside of him that he hadn\'t even noticed when that void had been filled. Looking back on it, he could pinpoint the precise moment it had happened, and now he mourned the loss of that short window in time in which he could have made a concrete difference.

He was once again empty and alone. Years fled by without warning as the days he spent trying to fill up the hole in his heart and soul consumed them. Everything- his hopes his dreams, his desires- had disappeared in the blink of an eye. They had been pessimistically discarded long ago like so much unwanted rubbish. They burned before his very eyes in the everlasting flame of his self-hatred.

Countless numbers of meaningless affairs and one-night stands marked the beginning of the first state of denial. He had restlessly searched for something unattainable and just out of reach. As soon as he had ascertained that he was wasting his time, he moved onto the next \'lover\'. Memories of their faces had long since blurred and faded in his mind\'s eye, leaving them featureless and obscure.

A complete avoidance of anyone who wasn\'t absolutely essential to his daily routine heralded his arrival to the next level- anti-social aggression. He had no qualms over cutting someone down to the quick simply because it served him well at the moment, especially if he was particularly keen on getting them to leave. Tendencies of employing these tactics were usually reserved for those who had once been held dearest to him. It was almost as if he wanted to punish himself by removing anything that ever gave him any joy at all.

And sadly enough, it worked more often than not. Only the irrepressible Tonks and reliable Remus continued to plague him relentlessly. They seemed to go out of their way to side step anything he threw at them, no mater how unforgivable. There is something to be said for faithfulness and loyalty, but at that point in his life, he hadn\'t given a flying fuck.

Yet they still arrived every Sunday like clockwork, a sickeningly reassuring event in itself. In the end it was he who had given and decided that it was far too much work to continue with this charade. He had grudgingly allowed Remus and Tonks to fuss and cajole him into talking any semblance of care with himself.

But the moment they cheerfully bid him goodnight, he was back to his old ways. Drinking and carousing, attempting to drown out his sorrow in cheap shots of whiskey and gin until he finally passed out around dawn. This was one of those nights, except he was regrettably not quite as far gone as he would have liked. And when he encountered the lionized seeker, Aiden Lynch, he had thought the other man was the ticket to drinking himself into a fine stupor. Which was why he found himself permitting the drunken fumbling of the egotistic fool before him now. He had thrown all caution to the wind and thought \' What the hell, I might as well have some fun.\' After all, what did he have to lose?

It was at that precise moment he lost all semblance of patience with Lynch and irritably shoved him aside. Apparently he had put a little more force into the motion than he intended, and his fellow seeker tumbled to the floor in one graceless heap.

He eyed the red head briefly with distaste before rising from his position on the bed. He straightened his clothing with rough, jerky movements of his hand, running his fingers through the wild locks of his hair. He regarded the wide-eyed Lynch with a narrowed gaze before simply walking away.

He left The Broken Wand with little or no fan fare, not even pausing to greet the bartender, as was his custom. He nearly ran into Seamus Finnegan and his erstwhile lover Amos Diggory, before neatly pivoting on his heel and changing direction. He heard Finnegan clear his throat, as if preparing to call out some unknown pleasantry, but silenced him with a glare. A cowed Finnegan and a remarkably placid looking Diggory remained silent and made a show of pointedly ignoring him from there on out.

Upon arrival at the flat he shared with several others, he was acutely aware of the presence of someone within its walls. He was nonplussed, but unsurprised to find Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Zacharias Smith sprawled in one large dog pile on his bed. Rather than make a huge fuss, he disrobed before pressing his way into the center of the mattress.

Once he was firmly ensconced in between the arm limbs of the three other boys, he fell into familiar restless sleep. But for the first time in years, he dreamed. He dreamed of obsidian eyes and raven hair, tanned flesh and long limbs that seemed to stretch for miles on end.

***

He awoke with a start, nearly jumping out of his skin as he felt someone\'s breathe ghost along the skin of his neck.

Hands that were roughly padded, but unbelievably gentle caressed his forearms, sending shivers up and down the length of his body. Goosebumps raced along his flesh, enticingly intriguing to his mind. He felt a sharp jab of desire bolt through him like lightening. Half afraid, he angled his head so that he could see the person to whom they belonged.

Eyes widened, a rarely seen smile graced his normally solemn face. He barely recognized the foreign emotion which flitted through him at the moment he acknowledged the features before him. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was actually feeling- well, happy. Something he hadn\'t been in quite a few years, literally. The beloved face that haunted him so persistently during his waking hours was to grace his reverie this night.

He twisted within the grasp of his beloved, struggling to turn to get a better view. Almost as if he were afraid to break the spell, he slowly reached out to touch the face of his lover. To his delight, the sharp stubble that covered the lower half of his partner\'s jaw pressed into his hand almost uncomfortably as he did so. He couldn\'t resist impulsively rubbing his cheek against his lover\'s, enjoying the scratchy sensation that accompanied his actions.

\"Sirius,\" he whispered, feeling short of breath with disbelief. The older man merely smiled mysteriously, opting to remain silent.

Sirius pressed his lips against Harry\'s, a sweet, insistent pressure that had Harry eagerly parting his to allow his lover admittance. Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius, holding him a bit tighter to his body than was probably necessary. He was half certain that if he blinked, everything would fall apart in front of him. He didn\'t want to miss an instance of this- well, whatever it was.

Sirius lowered Harry until he was flat on his back, staring up at his lover with a content glint in his eyes. He proceeded to explore the entire length of Harry\'s body thoroughly. The younger Gryffindor was almost certain that Sirius had constructed a perfect map of every feature of him in his mind for future reference. Truth be told, Harry himself had eagerly done the exact same thing. He wanted to be able to recall every exquisite detail. Horde the memories and experiences so that he could take it them out and treasure them at his leisure.

He allowed himself to become so wrapped up in his own little world, where no one but Sirius and he existed. Everything else faded away as he immersed himself in the overwhelming force that was Sirius. Dying sounds echoed dully as they slowly dissipated in the air, leaving near absolute silence. Occasionally a moan or sigh rang briefly in the air, waxing only to wane a moment later. No words were needed to express thoughts, emotions or anything else for that matter.

He became increasingly intoxicated by the scent and touch of his lover, his head spinning as waves of vertigo rolled over him. When combined with the sensation of his lover\'s fingers drawing circles upon the curvature of his spine, it was positively lethal. Just the right amount of pressure exerted upon a certain point on his lower back had him squirming within seconds. He arched into Sirius, involuntarily thrusting his slim hips upwards. Sirius growled low in his throat in response and ground himself against Harry. Without looking away from Harry, he yanked the drawstring out of a pair of discarded pajama pants hanging on the headboard.

Harry had immediately known why Sirius did such a seemingly random thing. He felt a jolt of arousal at the mere thought of what his lover had in store for him. He passively allowed Sirius to take hold of his forearms, his grip firm, but considerate. Unless Harry himself gave his express permission, there would be no pain what so ever, whether it was accidental or not.

Trust had never been so implicitly implied as when Harry willingly allowed Sirius to bind his wrists together behind his back. He was conscious of Sirius carefully watching him as he tightened the knots. He knew that his lover did so to assure that he did not inadvertently harm his partner.

When Harry had been bound to Sirius\' satisfaction, he stood back to examine his handiwork. A slow grin spread across his cheeks, his eyes openly showcasing his approval of the scene before him. He circled around to the other side of the bed, but did not sit down as Harry had expected him to. It was never in doubt that Sirius enjoyed such activities as much as he did, but the young Gryffindor was pleased to have it reconfirmed.

Eventually Sirius reached out and ran a hand through Harry\'s wild locks. Harry couldn\'t help but feel a pang of disappoint, having expected more than such a simple touch. He obediently remained silent, his posture artfully submissive in its simplicity.

Harry wasn\'t the arrogant sort, but he had known that Sirius couldn\'t resist. And he was right. Sirius buried his face in his hair, entwining his fingers in the raven locks. Warm breathe brushed against his neck as Sirius nudged his nose into the curve of where his neck and shoulders were joined. The warm, wet sensation of a tongue running along that line of tender skin made him moan. He instinctively wanted to squirm in place from the sheer pleasure of it alone, but refrained from doing so. Without prolonged thought on the matter, he somehow knew that the older man would be disappointed if he did so.

All the good intentions he had of following through with Sirius\' unspoken orders flew out the window as long fingers wrapped around the base of his manhood. His eyes rolled back in his head and his hips jerked as Sirius managed to run his thumb precisely where Harry liked.

\"Beg.\" This word alone was all that Sirius said, but it had a wealth of meaning. Harry willingly began to plead, his voice starting out tentative, but gradually building in volume. Every scream which his lover found satisfactory was rewarded with a tantalizing slow caress. As time progressed, he became increasingly aroused and impatient, but surprisingly obedient. He didn\'t want to take the risk that Sirius might stop because he was enjoying their activities far too much.

As Sirius licked the line of muscle at his pelvis, he flung his head back. He had little or no warning as his head slammed into the headboard behind him. His eyes slipped closed as he winced, rubbing the now tender area of his skull.

When he opened his eyes, a gasp of dismay escaped his lips when he noticed he was all alone. He was drenched to the bone, the sheets drenched liberally with tears and viscous fluids. Harry couldn\'t prevent himself from crying more tears as he realized that it had all been a dream. His entire frame began to shake as it was wracked with violent sobs. A scream escaped his lips, and for once he was glad that he lived a few levels up from the other flats.

As the sobs died down he slammed a naked fist into the headboard and grimaced as pain radiated through his lower arm. He cursed violently, cradling it to his body. He laid back down, either not noticing or caring that he was laying in the center of his sweat and bodily fluids. Empty eyes stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing what was before them- or rather, not wanting to see what was before them.

He idly noted that at some point during the night Blaise, Draco and Zacharias had all abandoned his bed. Harry was completely alone, without even their presense to comfort him in his time of need.

The dream had seemed so very real- so physical that he felt as if he had been a part of it, not just a casual observer. He should have known that it wasn\'t, for true life is never quite as beautiful as the dream had been. He should have suspected the moment Sirius appeared, because he had never been able to hold onto anything that he loved. But he hadn\'t, and here he was, once again falling apart at the seams.

\"There is no such thing as happy endings, there is no such thing as happy endings...\" he brokenly repeated.

Maybe one day he would actually stop believing that there was a chance that Sirius would ever come back. But for now, it was the glue that held him together. Without it, he wouldn\'t have a reason to live...