Sirius' eyebrows drew together in confusion as he studied the
package of noodles he held in front of him. It seemed as though
he was refraining from dropping the bag and running away,
screaming loudly. A snicker coming from the doorway brought him
from his interesting thoughts. He scowled and turned to look at
Harry, who was leaning on the doors frame.
"It generally helps if you open the bag." Harry told him, as if he were informing him of a great and important secret. He reached up and brushed unruly dark hair from his emerald eyes. The Boy Who Lived was still rather skinny, and he would always be shorter than an average man. He had gained weight and a couple of inches over the past summer and now stood on the brink of five foot eight.
Sirius felt his lips twist into a sneer. His own hair was tied back in a low ponytail, yet it still managed to make the back of his neck break out in sweat. Or perhaps it was looking at his handsome godson that did it. Padfoot turned away from Harry and reached out for his wand. Grasping the length of wood, he pointed it at the young man who was now looking properly apprehensive.
They're been living together for nearly a month and Harry had learned early on to distrust him if he was holding a wand. Without warning, Sirius dropped his wand on the tile and rushed at the younger man. Harry yelped as he crashed down to the floor with a laughing Sirius on his chest. The older man grinned roguishly and, eyes alight, began to tickle him.
"No!" Harry half gasped, half yelled. His glasses slipped down on his face to rest on the tip of his nose. Laughing manically Sirius set about his task with even more fervor.
"Yes!" He cried and shifted his body around so he was straddling Harry. Reaching up, Sirius managed to catch both of Harry's wrists in one large hand. He pulled the other mans arms so they were above his head. With the newer access to his sides, Sirius smiled largely.
Finally, he managed to gasp out, "I give up! I give up!" quite loudly. Sirius stopped and looked down at Harry with a self- satisfied smirk. The boy grinned up at him for a few moments before his face seemed to freeze.
"What? What is it?" Sirius' voice held a hint of worry. Harry squirmed slightly and he became painfully aware of their positions. The Animagus' legs were spread so he could straddle the other mans hips. His arms were being held over his head with one hand.
He wriggled again and their hips rocked together. Both men gasped as parts of their anatomy encountered each other. Sirius felt his eyelids drift down halfway as a burning sensation erupted over his body.
Harry gazed up at his godfather, lips parted slightly. He managed to sit himself up on his elbows and tried to ignore the pleasant feelings that came as Sirius slid down to sit on his lap. "S-Sirius?" Harry stuttered softly as Sirius's legs wrapped around his torso, effectively pressing them closer together. A low moan was torn unbidden from deep in his throat.
His godfather's eyes were still drooping over his gray eyes. Harry looked closer and saw the faint rose-colored flush that spread over his chiseled cheeks.
"Yes, Harry?" Sirius breathed. All his emotions were a jumble in his chest, and he swallowed to make the lump in his throat go away. Finally gaining some of his wits, he looked sharply at the man he was pressed intimately against. Harry didn't move an inch and Sirius began to loosen his grip on him.
Then Harry reached out and grabbed Sirius by the collar. He dragged his head to his until their lips were so close it would have been impossible to speak without them touching. Harry's mouth was suddenly on his, loving and slow. Sirius's eyes were now open as wide as they could go, so great was his surprise. He stiffened in his godsons hold. Harry abruptly pulled away when he realized that Sirius was not responding in any way.
He began to pull away, murmuring a faint "Sorry." before Sirius' arms went around him. Padfoot used put his fingers under Harry's chin and pulled his face up so they were looking eye to eye.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, love." Then he was kissing the other man with unbridled passion. It was almost as if, when their lips met, the world was sucked away and nothing else mattered.
The two were so enveloped in each other that they didn't hear someone knocking on the door. They didn't hear, either, the door opening. Nor did the sound of a surprised gasp reach their ears.
It wasn't until someone banged Sirius Black on the side of the head with a frying pan did they notice they had company. Or, rather, did Harry notice, as it seemed that Sirius had fallen to the floor unconscious.
So, Harry James Potter did the first thing that came to mind as fury and pain twisted his senses. He leapt forward and punched whoever it was in the face.
James fell to the ground with a yell, clutching his bloody nose. The pan clattered onto the tile alongside him. Swearing he rolled onto his side and whipped out his wand. He conjured up a box of Kleenex and immediately reached in to grab a handful. He pressed it against the blood flow, still cursing at his son.
Finally figuring out that swearing was not helping the situation he turned to look at the shell-shocked man who now stood behind him. "Who the hell are you?" Harry gasped out, eye's bright with pain and anger.
James rolled his eyes and picked up his wand. His son tensed, but relaxed when James just tapped it to his nose. The blood stopped immidiatly and he cringed at the bloody mess of paper still in his hand. Shrugging, he turned back to the other man. "I'm you're father."
"Bullshit." He gaped at the language, fatherly instincts taking control. "My father is dead, and if he *were* alive he wouldn't have just hit my godfather over the head with a bloody frying pan!"
James winced at the harshness in Harry's voice. His brown eyes filled with pain as he looked down at his best friend. "Er, right." He muttered, shuffling over to where Sirius lay. "Is Padfoot alright, then?"
Sirius' eyes cracked open and he stared openly at his supposedly *dead* best friend. "Prongs? What the hell are you doing here?"
"What the-" And Harry let out an expletive that could never be repeated within thirty feet of a nun.
"You will not use that language, young man!" James admonished, eyes flashing.
Harry's beautiful green eyes turned cloudy as all the blood drained from his face. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Huh." James commented smartly, looking down at the form of his son. "That went well."
"It generally helps if you open the bag." Harry told him, as if he were informing him of a great and important secret. He reached up and brushed unruly dark hair from his emerald eyes. The Boy Who Lived was still rather skinny, and he would always be shorter than an average man. He had gained weight and a couple of inches over the past summer and now stood on the brink of five foot eight.
Sirius felt his lips twist into a sneer. His own hair was tied back in a low ponytail, yet it still managed to make the back of his neck break out in sweat. Or perhaps it was looking at his handsome godson that did it. Padfoot turned away from Harry and reached out for his wand. Grasping the length of wood, he pointed it at the young man who was now looking properly apprehensive.
They're been living together for nearly a month and Harry had learned early on to distrust him if he was holding a wand. Without warning, Sirius dropped his wand on the tile and rushed at the younger man. Harry yelped as he crashed down to the floor with a laughing Sirius on his chest. The older man grinned roguishly and, eyes alight, began to tickle him.
"No!" Harry half gasped, half yelled. His glasses slipped down on his face to rest on the tip of his nose. Laughing manically Sirius set about his task with even more fervor.
"Yes!" He cried and shifted his body around so he was straddling Harry. Reaching up, Sirius managed to catch both of Harry's wrists in one large hand. He pulled the other mans arms so they were above his head. With the newer access to his sides, Sirius smiled largely.
Finally, he managed to gasp out, "I give up! I give up!" quite loudly. Sirius stopped and looked down at Harry with a self- satisfied smirk. The boy grinned up at him for a few moments before his face seemed to freeze.
"What? What is it?" Sirius' voice held a hint of worry. Harry squirmed slightly and he became painfully aware of their positions. The Animagus' legs were spread so he could straddle the other mans hips. His arms were being held over his head with one hand.
He wriggled again and their hips rocked together. Both men gasped as parts of their anatomy encountered each other. Sirius felt his eyelids drift down halfway as a burning sensation erupted over his body.
Harry gazed up at his godfather, lips parted slightly. He managed to sit himself up on his elbows and tried to ignore the pleasant feelings that came as Sirius slid down to sit on his lap. "S-Sirius?" Harry stuttered softly as Sirius's legs wrapped around his torso, effectively pressing them closer together. A low moan was torn unbidden from deep in his throat.
His godfather's eyes were still drooping over his gray eyes. Harry looked closer and saw the faint rose-colored flush that spread over his chiseled cheeks.
"Yes, Harry?" Sirius breathed. All his emotions were a jumble in his chest, and he swallowed to make the lump in his throat go away. Finally gaining some of his wits, he looked sharply at the man he was pressed intimately against. Harry didn't move an inch and Sirius began to loosen his grip on him.
Then Harry reached out and grabbed Sirius by the collar. He dragged his head to his until their lips were so close it would have been impossible to speak without them touching. Harry's mouth was suddenly on his, loving and slow. Sirius's eyes were now open as wide as they could go, so great was his surprise. He stiffened in his godsons hold. Harry abruptly pulled away when he realized that Sirius was not responding in any way.
He began to pull away, murmuring a faint "Sorry." before Sirius' arms went around him. Padfoot used put his fingers under Harry's chin and pulled his face up so they were looking eye to eye.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, love." Then he was kissing the other man with unbridled passion. It was almost as if, when their lips met, the world was sucked away and nothing else mattered.
The two were so enveloped in each other that they didn't hear someone knocking on the door. They didn't hear, either, the door opening. Nor did the sound of a surprised gasp reach their ears.
It wasn't until someone banged Sirius Black on the side of the head with a frying pan did they notice they had company. Or, rather, did Harry notice, as it seemed that Sirius had fallen to the floor unconscious.
So, Harry James Potter did the first thing that came to mind as fury and pain twisted his senses. He leapt forward and punched whoever it was in the face.
James fell to the ground with a yell, clutching his bloody nose. The pan clattered onto the tile alongside him. Swearing he rolled onto his side and whipped out his wand. He conjured up a box of Kleenex and immediately reached in to grab a handful. He pressed it against the blood flow, still cursing at his son.
Finally figuring out that swearing was not helping the situation he turned to look at the shell-shocked man who now stood behind him. "Who the hell are you?" Harry gasped out, eye's bright with pain and anger.
James rolled his eyes and picked up his wand. His son tensed, but relaxed when James just tapped it to his nose. The blood stopped immidiatly and he cringed at the bloody mess of paper still in his hand. Shrugging, he turned back to the other man. "I'm you're father."
"Bullshit." He gaped at the language, fatherly instincts taking control. "My father is dead, and if he *were* alive he wouldn't have just hit my godfather over the head with a bloody frying pan!"
James winced at the harshness in Harry's voice. His brown eyes filled with pain as he looked down at his best friend. "Er, right." He muttered, shuffling over to where Sirius lay. "Is Padfoot alright, then?"
Sirius' eyes cracked open and he stared openly at his supposedly *dead* best friend. "Prongs? What the hell are you doing here?"
"What the-" And Harry let out an expletive that could never be repeated within thirty feet of a nun.
"You will not use that language, young man!" James admonished, eyes flashing.
Harry's beautiful green eyes turned cloudy as all the blood drained from his face. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Huh." James commented smartly, looking down at the form of his son. "That went well."