A/N: Happy Christmas everyone! And Happy Birthday Miss Jane Austen, who is a rather impressive 235 years old today

Disclaimer: Remus, Sirius and Harry, not to mention MacGonagall, Dumbledore and the unfortunate niffer, are all the property of Ms. J. K. Rowling

Bite Marks

"It's all that ambition, you know," Remus sighed, frowning in the firelight. "All bottled up inside him. He could have been someone, that's what he tortures himself with. They both could."

Harry stared down into his long cooled hot chocolate. The night had drawn in as they'd sat by the fire and talked of everything, Remus and he, and he could feel his eyelids begin to droop. In the corner, the fairy lights draped around Sirius' magnificent Christmas tree winked, sending light dancing across a host of metallic baubles.

"You're tired," Remus smiled that old, soft smile and gently prised the mug from Harry's hands. "Go to bed, Harry. Molly tells me she's getting you all up early tomorrow after today's performance."

Harry laughed sleepily. Lie-ins had never been encouraged at Privet Drive, at least, not for him and being woken up by a flustered Mrs Weasley at midday had been glorious. "Night, Remus." He murmured, yawning as he got to his feet. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight Harry." Remus' gaze had shifted to the fire, and he seemed to have forgotten he still had company.

Harry shook his head, closing the door softly behind him, and traipsed up the grimy stairs. He met Sirius halfway up, who winked at him.

"Night, Harry," Sirius grinned, and Harry noticed a bulge in his jacket, disguising something (probably alcoholic) that Mrs Weasley wouldn't approve of.

"Night Sirius." Harry paused, and turned on the stairs, "Sirius?" He called. "Did you really pull off that thing with the honey and the Niffer?"

Sirius turned and smirked devilishly, his worn face loosing a full twelve years until a young and horribly mischievous Sirius Black was standing at the foot of the stairs. "God yeah, forgotten about that," he grinned fondly. "McGonagall's office and everything. Should have seen Dumbledore's face. Always knew he liked honey, just didn't realise he was that much of a cat person…"

The bottle hit the sideboard with a clunk. "Nightcap, Rem?"

Remus stirred, rubbing his eyes. "What?"

"Drink, you knob. D'you want a drink?"

"What is it?"

Sirius shrugged. "God knows, the label's gone." There was a slosh as Sirius tipped whatever poisonous concoction he'd dug from the cellar into twin glasses. "Live a little, Moons."

Remus took the sludge coloured liquid with trepidation. "I didn't acquiesce to this."

"Tough." Sirius proffered his glass. "Come on, toast something for god's sake. I've been sober for a full forty-eight hours and its killing me."

Remus clanked their glasses together. "To Christmas."

"Inventive," Sirius grinned, and downed his lot in a gulp. "Ah shit!" he gasped. "Fuck that's strong."

Remus sniffed his cautiously.

"Bottoms up, Rem," Sirius was watching him, slumped on the sofa, his lips parted slightly. "Unless you need an incentive?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at him, and closing his eyes, tipped the glassful down his throat. Gagging, he was sure he was about to sprout wings and talons and be cut down by St. George. "Gods, Sirius," he just about managed, "What was that?"

"Told you, the labels gone. For all I know it could have been the doxy spray."

Remus glanced at the bottle, which looked awfully unassuming sitting on the sideboard, glinting greenly in the half light.

"You want another one?"

Remus cocked his head. "I value my stomach lining."

"Kudos for you, Moons." Sirius stood up, toying impatiently with his glass but Remus laid a hand on his arm and pushed him back down.

"I want you sober."

"That's the sexiest thing you've ever said to me, Rem."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Shoot," Sirius' eyes glinted, "And my hopes weren't the only thing you'd got up."

Remus rolled his eyes, glancing back into the fire. The flames were slowly dying, but still eliciting the odd pop and spark of orange light. "Why is it," Remus picked at the hem of his jumper, before looking at Sirius and meeting questioning grey eyes. "That Harry just spent a good hour talking to me?"

Sirius shrugged, suddenly wary. "Because you get on, because he trusts you. I don't know, why you asking?"

"I'm just wondering why he wasn't talking to you instead."

There was a short silence, in which Sirius folded his legs up onto the sofa, the upholstery groaning. He seemed to be very interested in his tumbler. Remus stared tiredly into the fire, unsure of where the urge to be so provocative had stemmed from.

"He is talking to me, Remus," Sirius murmured.

"He's avoiding you, Sirius."

"He's not." Sirius swallowed and glanced upward for a moment. "He's not. He's going through a rough patch. It happens."

"Sirius," Remus closed his eyes, "You're not doing anyone any good here."

"Well if I could just-"

"No, Sirius. If you could just cheer up," Remus was back to staring into the fire, "Stop drinking. Clean up the act. God, Harry wants his dad's best mate. He wants James' best mate, Sirius. He doesn't want this," Remus paused and swallowed slightly. "I don't want this."

"So this is about you."

"This is about Harry."

"You just said it was about you."

A groan. "You're being fatuous."

"You're being ridiculous. And bloody selfish. This doesn't have anything to do with Harry!" Sirius clambered to his feet, the tumbler clenched in his fist, knuckles white in the lights from the tree. Storming over to the sideboard, he upended the bottle furiously, spilling half of it over the carpet.

"Put the bottle down."

"Fuck no." Sirius leered, and slugged another glassful.

Remus stepped toward him, his hand out. "Give me the bottle."

"Fuck you, no." Sirius waved it above his head, laughing callously. "You can fucking jump for it."

"Don't be so bloody childish!"

Remus made an unsuccessful grab for the bottle and Sirius cackled. "Come on, Lupin! Jump wanker!"

Remus snarled, and leapt for the bottle, barrelling into Sirius, who yelped and slipped back onto the carpet, Remus sprawled over him, the bottle lying a few foot away, leaking sludge into the stained and moth eaten Noble House of Black.

"You want to take that back?" Remus growled, his face inches from Sirius', who had started to laugh hysterically.

"Fuck you, Rem." Sirius giggled, dropping his head back onto the carpet. "Fuck you, Remus John Lupin. Fuck. You."

Remus glowered, and stared into the face of his friend, whose grey eyes were already bleary, the stubble from the day before dark on his worn cheeks. "God, you're a mess, Pads," he murmured and then, employing a well tried and test practice, he bit Sirius' collar bone hard.

"Shit!" Sirius spat, his whole body going rigid. "What the fucking hell was that for?"

"You looked as if you'd taste good." Remus' anger wasted on the bite, humour wandered nonchalantly back into the picture.

Sirius blinked, pain bringing him back round sharply. "Do I look like a delicatessen?"

Remus just smiled, "No, you look like you live in a sleeping bag on the banks of the Thames."

"Thanks," Sirius muttered, and then "You're sitting on me."

"Well done."

"Planning on moving?" Sirius shifted slightly and then smiled as Remus' erection dug into his thigh. "Ah, I'll take that as a no then?"

Remus laughed quietly, "How is it that you still turn me on?"

Sirius smiled, his eyes glowing in the gloom. "Look at me, Moons," he grinned, splaying out the arm that wasn't pinioned by Remus. "I'm gorgeous, who wouldn't get hot off this?"

"Oh I don't know, I think Kreacher's done a pretty good job of avoiding your charms."

"He wanks thinking about me." Sirius winked and then shuddered. "Ah gods, scratch that," he screwed his eyes shut. "Fuck, that is not an image I wanted," he opened half an eye. "Take it away for me, Rem?"

Remus laughed, and pulled his worn jumper over his head, flinching as the cold air hit him. "Merlin, Sirius, its freezing!"

Sirius gazed up at him. "You're gorgeous, I hope you realise that."

Remus guardedly eyed his scarred and disfigured torso, strangely white in the dim light. "You won't want me when I get goosebumps."

"God, I'd want you if you became a bloody goose."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you went for that sort of thing."

"Why," Sirius cocked his head and winked. "What'd you think me an' McGonagall got up to after Transfiguration?"

"Ah," Remus murmured, nipping at Sirius' neck, "I did wonder. Thought Mrs Norris went around looking a bit pleased with herself after your detentions as well."

Sirius growled. "Not to mention my favourite furry little problem."

"It's always nice to know you're a better shag than McGonagall." Remus smiled disarmingly, and then bit down hard on Sirius' shoulder.

He exhaled sharply. "You're violent tonight."

"You called me a wanker."

"Did I?" Sirius dropped his head back, hissing as Remus licked the bright red mark where his teeth had fallen earlier. "Well you might as well be one and give me a good wank."

Remus glanced up, "I could have had Llewellyn you know. Swapped foul mouthed, disgusting you for some culture and class."

Sirius grinned, his hand working downwards. "I know filth turns you on, Remus Lupin," he whispered, as Remus gasped. "You never were very good at hiding what you got off on."

Harry came down the next morning to find his godfather and his favourite teacher entwined on the sofa, Remus' head nestled in Sirius' neck, snoring slightly, his mouth open. The bottle Sirius had been secreting still lay in the middle of a muddy stain in the carpet, Remus' jumper in a heap by one of the chair legs.

Harry coloured as Remus stirred, his eyes opening sleepily.

There was a crash, as Harry fell over one of the empty bauble boxes in his haste to get out of the room. Sirius woke up with a jolt, nearly knocking Remus off the sofa.

"Shit," he mumbled groggily. "What was that?"

"Harry," Remus murmured. "And I've got a feeling he's might be avoiding both of us from now on."