The air in Grimmauld Place was almost impossibly heavy -- stagnant and thick, coating nostrils and throat and lungs in such a way that exhaling required a nearly Herculean effort. Remus took a deep, unsatisfying sniff, thinking that this was where air went to die.

With only two people in one gigantic place, avoidance should have been easy. After the Dursley incident, when Dumbledore allowed Harry to stay with him, Remus had expected them both to get trapped within their own personal little bubbles of misery. Things didn't work out that way; like the air, Harry surrounded him, getting in his way and permeating his belongings and nostrils and damned near everything else. If Remus went down to breakfast, Harry would already be sullenly staring into the middle distance, or tripping over his feet to dash out of the kitchen before Remus could get inside. If Remus needed to use the bathroom, Harry would inevitably open the door, wiping still-damp hands on a grubby, second-hand t-shirt. If Remus wanted to read, Harry was in the library. If Remus wanted to yell at Mrs Black, Harry was already there, panting as he screamed out obscenity after obscenity, his face red with exertion. And on and on and on.

Remus padded down the second floor corridor, thinking it funny how everything was getting under his skin: Harry and the atmosphere and this Place and the wolf that was rippling and stretching and screaming just beneath the surface. Eight hours until he became the one screaming below, the beast finally let out of its cage; he felt like clawing at his skin.

And there was Sirius. That was really the rub, of course; the bastard wasn't even here, but everything -- everything -- here was him. No matter the thing, the smell of dead man was all over it -- a smelly, mistrusting Hippogriff that Remus could scent even with a floor separating them, a portrait screaming about the half-breeds tainting her house, and a godson wanking in his godfather's bed. With all those stimuli surrounding him, Remus wished he could turn off his nose, because otherwise he might just cut it off.

Harry's face was tense and closed off, as always, like the muscles there hadn't quite got the memo that the rest of his body was in the throes of ecstasy. The grip around his cock looked painful even from Remus's vantage point in the doorway, and he hadn't bothered locking the door, or closing the curtains, or biting through his bottom lip in an attempt to be silent. Of course, he couldn't cast a Silencing Charm with the Ministry's laws in effect, but as Remus heard the third breathy, shouted Sirius in as many minutes, he decided Harry must have wanted to be caught. It was the only logical solution.

Remus crept into the room stealthily, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a deep breath, the sweat-heavy air and pheromones driving the wolf to howl. When he opened his eyes again, he was an inch from the bed, and with the display of young flesh spread out for him so temptingly, Remus couldn't help himself; he slipped between the sheets, nuzzling the place where Harry's neck met his shoulder, and bit. At that moment of contact, Harry let out a keening noise, his eyes opening wide in disbelief.

Serves the little slut right, taunted the wolf -- or was it Remus? This close to the full moon, it was just too difficult to tell.

"Profes-- Remus?" came the uncertain query. Harry's hand guiltily flew from his erection as quickly as though he'd been slapped, resulting in a not-particularly effective way of covering up his shame over being caught; his shirt was yanked up to his neck, his trousers in a ball near his ankles, leaving his cock completely exposed, base spit-slick, a drop of pre-come at its tip.

"Shh," Remus said, tongue tracing erratic patterns against Harry's neck. His hand skittered down Harry's front, roughly tweaking a nipple -- and oh, the gasp that elicited was delicious -- before moving lower still, slowly rubbing the underside of Harry's cock. Remus delighted in the feel of hot, smooth skin beneath his callused palm.

Harry let out a shaky moan, then desperately tried sucking in a lungful of air. "R- Remus, I don't think this is a g--"

"Maybe you shouldn't talk," Remus suggested, propping himself up on one elbow, his tone gentle, belying the glint in his eyes and the repetition of prey, prey, prey playing over and over in his head. Remus bent his head to capture Harry's lips as the boy made frantic mmmphhh noises that vibrated against both of their mouths, though he didn't try struggling away from Remus; in fact, his hips bucked up, begging for more attention.

Remus plunged his tongue into Harry's mouth, pressing against the quiescent one inside, and nearly grimaced at the sour taste. He'd expected butterbeer or chocolate or whatever it is fifteen-almost-sixteen year old boys taste like, and discovered that this particular boy hadn't got around to cleaning his teeth that morning. Even Harry -- precious, sweet, corruptible Harry -- was stale when locked up in this place. Well, that was going to stop right now.

Reluctantly pulling away from the almost-sweet bitterness of Harry's lips, Remus took a moment to admire what was spread out for him as his hand quickened its pace. Harry's eyes were open wide now, searching, uncertain, and he no longer let those heedless cries escape. Oh, now, he decides to pipe down, teased the dark part of Remus's psyche. Remus didn't mind, though, not with the pink blush spread across young cheeks, each moan hissed and gurgled instead of forming his godfather's name. It was about time he could pretend that something in this house belonged to him.

"You know, Harry," said Remus casually, as though they were discussing the weather or grindylows, not engaging in questionable activities on a dead man's bed, "it's perfectly natural to want to remember your godfather --" Remus ran his thumb firmly across the head of Harry's cock, forcing an open-mouthed gasp out of him "-- but maybe this isn't the best possible way to honour his memory."

"What do you know about it?" Harry snapped back, twisting and arching into Remus's hand. "He's gone, he's never coming back, and he can't say a damned thing about me doing this."

"Oh no, dear boy," corrected Remus. "You misunderstand me. I'm quite sure he would have taken a kind of sick pleasure in your... enthusiasm --"

"You certainly have, you sick fuck."

Remus chuckled. "You're right about that, Harry." He snuggled closer to Harry's side, presenting evidence of just that. "There's a reason Sirius and I were friends, you know. I was merely suggesting that we might want to do our... mourning in a more mutual fashion, but I'll leave it up to you. Do you --"

Remus abruptly let go of Harry's cock, making Harry whine and flail helplessly.

"-- want me to --"

Forcing a knee between Harry's thighs, Remus pulled himself up. With broad sweeps of his tongue, he bent to taste Harry's chest and stomach, savouring skin that tasted far sweeter than that stale mouth.

"-- stop what I'm doing, or --"

Finally, he let his mouth hover over Harry's groin, then swallowed the entire hard length. He left the or keep doing what I'm doing unsaid; it was pointless, and besides, impolite to talk with his mouth full.

Harry cried out, fisting handfuls of Remus's hair, not bothering to be the least bit gentle. It seemed that either Harry's overall manners weren't quite as refined as his own, or he just wasn't well-versed in the etiquette of blow jobs; the boy bucked again, shoving his prick as far down Remus's throat as it would go.

It's all right, the wolf thought, grinning even around its choked mouthful. Our chance will come soon enough.

Speaking of coming...

Remus roughly pushed Harry's hips, shoving them down to the mattress, before slowly sucking up to the tip of his cock. He taunted Harry mercilessly, bestowing feather-light licks all along the length, and moving at a near glacial pace, his grip on Harry's skinny body just short of bruising.

"Please, Remus," Harry begged. "D- don't stop. I do want... keep doing that."

Remus raised his head, meeting Harry's eyes. "So, you like this?" he asked needlessly.

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want to feel my lips wrapped around your cock, feel me licking and sucking until you're shaking, until you explode in my mouth?"

"Fuck." Harry blinked owlishly, and Remus could hear the hitch in his breathing. "God, yes."

"So," said Remus, "what will you do for me?" He dipped his head, swirling his tongue over Harry's balls, then swept the length of his cock again.

Harry eyed him, furrowing his brow. At least he knows enough to be worried, thought Remus approvingly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing much." From his kneeling, bent-over position, it was an awkward shrug, but Remus did his best. "I was thinking I might bind you to that headboard, throw your legs over my shoulders, and fuck you senseless. I'll even make sure you come again." Remus swore he felt the wolf grin at that, a grin that promptly widened at Harry's shocked expression. As Remus's mouth sucked Harry down once more, he thought the air seemed unusually light.

Harry didn't answer, choosing instead to claw at the sheets and moan as Remus's hot mouth engulfed him again and again. Remus felt Harry's stomach muscles shudder under his fingers, as the sounds coming from that pink mouth devolved from moaning to cursing, then prayer, and finally incoherent babbling.

"Fuck," Harry panted. "Fuck! Remus, I'm so close. So close. So... so... oh, shit, no!"

Remus had stopped -- completely stopped -- and sat back on his haunches. "You didn't give me your answer, Harry."

Harry struggled to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows, looking wild, and not a bit the closed-off boy that had been avoiding Remus for weeks. "But..."

Then again, Remus didn't exactly look as he usually did, either; the wolf's predatory grin had spread to his own lips, and he was quite sure he barely resembled his regular, calm, collected self.

"But nothing, Harry -- I told you my conditions. You accept them, and I'll let you come right now... and come again later."

"Fuck off," Harry retorted savagely. "I'll just toss off... it's what I came in here to do, anyway."

Remus had Harry's hands pinned above his head, and his wand out of his robes before Harry could even blink. "No," Remus murmured, "I don't believe so." He waved his wand, securely fastening Harry's wrists to the slats of the bed and knelt back again, admiring his work.

Harry tested the bindings, -- silk scarves in Gryffindor colours, Remus's own creative touch -- stretching and pulling and panting with the effort, but got nowhere. Remus wouldn't proceed without Harry's permission, not for anything, but Harry didn't need to know that. It didn't matter, anyway -- he knew he'd get the yes he needed, Harry's resentful glare notwithstanding.

Slithering onto his belly, Remus shot Harry a crooked smile. He lightly circled index finger and thumb around the base of Harry's cock, bathing it with his tongue. Lick, after lick, after lick, as Harry's angry Geroffs melded into Fucks and Pleases again. His free hand played up and down thighs that trembled under his touch, before coming to rest at Harry's entrance. The hold he had on that cock was vice-like -- forcing Harry to hold back just a little longer -- but the movements of his fingers were light, just short of tickling.

Harry never said no.

Remus began moving his hand along the shaft again, pressing his tongue along Harry's balls, then finally mirrored his fingers' feathery touches with his mouth.

Then, Harry said, "Remus."

Remus pushed his tongue just past that near-impenetrable ring of muscle, getting a sick degree of pleasure over doing this when Sirius never would. Mine.

Then, Harry said, "Fuck me." The words were little more than a breathy pant, and when Remus glanced up, Harry was wild-eyed, licking his lips. This was a boy who needed to come now, needed to be fucked within an inch of his life.

"If you insist," said Remus sweetly.

Five repetitions of Remus's mouth, and Harry was threatening to rip his bindings from the bed, back bowed and taut, shooting his load down Remus's throat as he cursed and moaned, crying out to God and Remus as though they were one entity. Remus knew it had been a wise decision not to gag him.

A minute later, as Harry lay bonelessly -- legs flopped open, arms as loose as they could be with wrists still bound -- he watched Remus finally undress, looking... scared. He took sympathy on the boy; Remus wasn't a monster -- at least, not for another few hours -- and he never intended on hurting Harry. Well, he amended, taking a look at the purplish skin blooming under the ties and Harry's t-shirt was now so tangled it was just short of choking him, not very much.

Remus slipped into the bed again, shivering at the exquisite press of skin-on-skin. "This will be good for you, I'll make sure of it.'

Harry turned his head, watching him doubtfully.

"What turns you on?" asked Remus.

Harry looked at Remus as though he'd grown a second head. "Uh. Sex?"

Remus snorted. "Obviously. But what do you think about when you touch yourself? I heard you moaning Sirius's name -- people living two towns over probably heard you. Tell me what he was doing to you... or what you were doing to him..."

The somewhat-faded, post-orgasmic blush bloomed brightly on Harry's cheeks again. "He... uhm... had me..."

"Go on." Remus's hand drifted down to his own prick, as he noticed Harry watching him with interest.

"I was, uhm, on my hands and knees."

Promising, thought Remus appreciatively, groaning and reaching down to cup his balls. He rolled over, burying his face in the downy hair of Harry's underarm, groaning again as the mixed smell of boy and perspiration filled his nose.

"Sirius was behind me, doing... uh, doing the thing you were doing to me before... with your mouth on my..." Harry trailed off, sounding embarrassed.

"Rimming," mumbled Remus against Harry's skin. Always the professor.

"Yeah, that," said Harry agreeably. "So, Sirius was... he was licking me and he was reaching around and had his hand on my c- cock."

At that, Remus glanced up again, noticing the beginnings of an erection rolling across the trail of hair on Harry's belly. He stopped stroking himself, and raised himself into a kneeling position again, reaching over to Sirius's bedside table to find the jar he knew would be there, and grabbed his cast-aside wand.

"Then, he knelt behind me, and started pushing..."

Remus settled himself between Harry's legs, dipping his fingers into the jar and rubbing the lubricant onto himself, then began gently probing at Harry's entrance. "Typically," he said, pushing two fingers inside, then casting a spell to stretch Harry some, "you need a little preparation when doing that sort of thing."

Squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing at the invasion, Harry nodded.

"What happened then?"

Harry opened one eye and lifted his head. "Er, that's when you came in."

"Ah." The wolf laughed again, delighting in ruining even this for Sirius. The man, however, wasn't sure where all the resentment was from, and felt mixed pangs of guilt and longing. Remus quickly pushed them aside by freeing Harry's arms, and guided Harry's hand back to his cock. "Then, I suppose you should finish what you started. No matter how much I liked you bound like that, I want to watch you."

Harry tentatively stroked his erection as Remus lifted Harry's legs, settling them on his shoulders. With his free hand, he braced against the back of Harry's thigh and surged forward; even with the amount of lubricant he'd used, it was nearly an impossible feat entering Harry, and once fully sheathed, Remus stilled for a moment, just watching the pain-pleasure lining Harry's face. Each irregular breath was instantly followed by another, such that Remus couldn't even tell whether Harry's or his own were more ragged.

Remus groaned when Harry involuntarily flexed around him, beads of sweat running down both of their foreheads. "I'm going to move, all right?"

Gasping, Harry nodded as Remus gradually began pulling out of that tight warmth, then eased back again. The wolf urged him to fold Harry in half -- to just fuck, and pound, and take, but he managed to hold back.

There'd be time enough for that.

"You can move too, you know." Remus's voice was shakier than he would have liked, because of the willpower needed not to speed up, his hands holding Harry's legs up and making little white finger marks where they pressed with sublimated effort.

Harry's fist returned to the squeeze-and-pull that Remus had walked in on, and Remus wondered if he needed that. Remus thrust again, trying to match Harry's pace, and Harry groaned appreciatively, then inhaled sharply and grimaced.

"Am I hurting you?"

Face completely flushed, Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, and rocked up, forcing Remus further inside; if Harry's legs hadn't been in the way, Remus would have fallen forward with the sheer strength of his resulting gasp. "Yes. Keep doing it."

A shiver ran the length of Remus's spine as though the wolf had just spun an excited circle. He needed no further encouragement, and as he watched Harry abuse his own cock, he shifted his hold to just behind Harry's knees and thrust in and out, faster and faster, until he was slamming rhythmically into him.

Harry's babbling began again, and Remus promised himself he'd be making Harry do that as often as possible as he fucked Harry raw. Harry cried out for more, pushing into his fist, then impaling himself on Remus with every rock. Then, Harry was screaming again -- a heady litany of "FuckYesRemusHarderDidYouDoThisToSiriusTooGodGodGod!" before his hand jerked, his cock shooting come all over his stomach and chest. That sight was all the encouragement Remus needed as he emitted a low whine and plunged deep one more time, spilling hotly inside Harry's body.

"Fuck," they said in unison, staying locked together like that for a moment, their breathing slowing again. Finally, Harry's legs slipped back to the bed as Remus eased himself out of Harry's body. He slumped next to Harry, pleased when Harry rolled to rest his head on Remus's chest.

"I should wank with the door unlocked more often," said Harry after a few minutes of not-quite-comfortable silence.

Remus was surprised by this immediate approval. "Shouldn't you be angry with me?"

"I am." Harry shrugged as though this answered everything. "How many hours until sunset?"

"Less than eight."

"And you'll be chaining yourself up?"

Not quite seeing where this line of conversation was heading, Remus nodded. "Professor Snape refuses to make the Wolfsbane Potion for me now -- you know that."

"I suppose you'll be needing me to unlock you in the morning?"

He hadn't actually thought about that. "Yes, since we're the only two here, I suppose I will."

Harry's face was inscrutable. "Good. Tomorrow morning should be memorable, then."

Remus didn't answer right away, though a small smile played on his lips. Instead, he pulled himself up, and looked around the room. "We really should open a window."