Dog House

CHAPTER ONE

Sirius Black stumbled through undergrowth and dark foliage, the eerie night folding around him like a blanket. The scrub beneath him seemed intent on pulling him earthwards, bringing him crashing to the ground, twining itself around his limbs and wrenching him down, down, further down, into the murky depths of the unknown. He scrambled backwards, trying to escape his pursuer, but only succeeded in tightening the bonds around his arms and legs. The silhouette outlined by the hoary moon loomed over him, and, despite his masculine appearance, he screamed.

“Sirius! Sirius!”
Strong hands clamped over his shoulders, shaking him roughly and jerking him from his unconsciousness. He gasped for air, as though he had spent too long underwater. As he became more alert, he realised he may as well have been. He was drenched in sweat.
“Sirius, are you okay?” his rescuer queried. He seemed upset.
“Huh?” Sirius’s brain seemed incapable of forming logical thought, let alone complete words. “Uh…Yeah, what?”
“Sirius, are you okay!?”
Sirius frowned. “I think so.”
“Good. Now, let me check you over. Your may have hurt yourself, you were tossing about quite a bit,” the voice said firmly, and, before Sirius could object, grabbed his chapped hand and pulled him upright. The still-bewildered man groaned as his head swam, nauseating him and making blood pound in his ears, throbbing against his skull excruciatingly.
“Oh, crap. I forgot that happens. Sorry, Sirius!” the man apologized and laid the pained man back down.
“Why’d…Why’d ya do that, uh…”
“It’s Remus! It’s me, Padfoot!”
“Moony? Seriously?”
“Uh…Why not?”
“Y-You’re okay?” Sirius was bewildered. For some reason, he had thought Remus, his oldest friend, ally, and (unbeknownst to Lupin) object of his infatuation, dead. Flittering images of the nightmare were drawn back to his mind, and he shivered.

The beast hunched over Remus, strangely graceful for all its malevolence. Sirius cried out as the hood bowed over his comrade, obscuring his face and breaking Sirius’s heart in the same, rapid movement. He glimpsed a brief, vague, silvery wisp of smoke-like substance rise from where he assumed Remus’s lips were—
“NO!” It was almost as if Sirius had descended back into the dream, the memory was so vivid. Lupin, who had turned his attention to pouring a drink from a glimmering glass jug, placed it hastily back on the table and rushed to Sirius’s side, alarmed.
“Don’t die, Remus…” Sirius moaned, burying his face in the pillow to keep it out of the sun, which was hurting his eyes, even as it descended over the horizon.
“What? Sirius! I’m not going to die, you idiot.”
“But it took your soul…I saw it take your soul!”
“Sirius, look at me.” Sirius rolled sideways reluctantly, peering at the man beside the bed.
“Mmf?” he grunted.
“Do I look soul-less? Hmm? No!”
Sirius watched the man talk. His thin lips moved delightfully. Sirius could almost feel them against his own. Lupin’s eyes glittered in the dying sunbeams, deep and colourless. Sirius felt almost as though he could fall into them, an action to which he did not object in the least.
“Remus,” Sirius rasped, almost shocking himself with the state of his usually level voice.
Remus looked slightly taken aback by Sirius’s tone.
“Yes, Padfoot?”
“Come here, please.” Remus stepped forward slowly, unsurely, and stopped beside the bed. “Remus,” Sirius said, slightly irritated, “I’m not going to bite you”. Lupin looked slightly sceptical, but said nothing, moving nearer.
“Remus!”
“Sorry,” Remus replied, sounding genuinely apologetic. He sat on the edge of the bed, closer, yet somehow still not close enough for Sirius. Sirius watched him for a moment, and, in a sudden, lithe burst of years’ worth of pent-up Remus-deprivation, wrenched the stunned man down by his loose cotton shirt and locked lips with him.
His heart, which had accelerated to the point of bursting, shuddered to a momentary halt as the man pressed against him tensed. Sirius had, for a fleeting moment, let himself believe that Lupin would succumb to him and somehow, just somehow, happen to return his affections.
A hand pressed against his bare chest and pushed back, gently at first, but when Sirius refused to break contact, more forcefully. Lupin fell away, gasping from both shock and lack of air. “Sirius…”
“What? What is it? You’re going to tell me you didn’t know I was gay? Yeah, well, I’ve got news for you, amigo: I’m not.” This sudden burst of anger left Remus quite taken aback, and Sirius, immediately ashamed of what he had said, buried his head in his linen once more. He spoke again, softer this time, astounded by his own courage. “Look, Remus, I’m sorry. I’m telling the truth though, I’m not gay. It’s only you. I don’t…” he paused, searching for words. “I don’t just look at guys and think ‘whoa, he’s hot’. It’s only you, Remus.”
Remus sat on the edge of the bed, his body somehow frozen on the spot. Despite his inability to physically move, however, his mind raced with the speed of the wind. He had certainly never thought of Sirius like that…But then, with Sirius’s tongue gently trying to force its way into his mouth, he had lost a part of himself to the moment. There was a fraction of Lupin that wanted Sirius, longed to return his fevered embrace.
Lupin had no idea what he was waiting for. Why could he not kiss Sirius back, let his own tongue explore the regions of his companion’s mouth?
Because I am afraid, he thought to himself, suddenly, with grim realization.
I am afraid that it is more than a mere portion of me that wants Sirius for my own.

Lupin rose slowly from the antique bed, the depressingly old mattress failing to ease back into its usual position as his weight was removed from its surface. Sirius did not shift from his position beneath the sheets, and somehow this saddened the werewolf. His friend—His best friend—Usually so outgoing and reckless, without fear and possessing endless determination, now lay huddled and silent beneath thin greying sheets, feeling rejected and humiliated.
As Lupin watched he noticed almost infinitesimal tremors racking Sirius’ body, making him twitch and assume a foetal position. Whether he was simply cold—considering the chilling night and his meagre coverings, not at all impossible—or the significance of his mental suffering was enough to affect his physical control; Remus did not know.

Nevertheless, he approached the bed cautiously, draping a blanket which had been crumpled at the end of the bed over his friend. Lupin couldn’t see Sirius’ face, but he got the crushing impression that the dark-haired Marauder was too ashamed to face him.
That knowledge left Lupin feeling nauseated and downhearted. To know he had caused such shame and misery in his friend—the total opposite of everything Sirius claimed to be—was more devastating than anything Lupin had felt.

He left the room quietly, his subconscious noting that the tiny, heartbreaking shivers running through his comrade’s body had not ceased. The door swung to without a sound, other than the minute thuck as the door slid into place.