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When Harry woke again it was to the smell of fried chicken and chips, and his stomach growled before he could even speak.

A chorus of giggles answered it and he opened his eyes on Padma, Draco, and Neville, bearing an enormous platter of health-giving fried food.

"Told you he'd wake up for that," Neville said, as Draco shoved another pillow behind Harry's back and helped him sit up. Neville reached under the tray and unfolded four little legs, placing it over Harry's lap. Padma poured pumpkin juice.

"How do you feel?" she asked, passing it to him.

"Like a Bludger knocked me flat," Harry said sleepily.

"Vinegar?" Draco asked.

"A little on the chips?"

Draco shook vinegar over the chips, and Neville began cheerfully eating them, avoiding Padma's warning smack deftly.

"Some game," he said, around a mouthful of potato. "I don't think I've ever seen Dora shout that loudly."

"Did she shout too?" Harry asked.

"Well, not at the team."

"Tell me what happened," Harry commanded, picking up a chicken wing. It was hard to eat it, holding it with only one hand, and Draco helpfully reached out and held the tip of the wing.

"I guess Montague and Bole got into it again, and Pucey decided to come down on both of them, which distracted Flint, and pretty soon nobody was paying attention, which was right about when you grabbed the Snitch," Draco said. "And since all the Beaters were trying to pry them apart, nobody was looking at where the Bludgers were going. Bad form," he added censoriously.

"There is no 'Look Out Harry' in 'Team'," Harry muttered. "Someone might have told me, you know."

"Lee Jordan said it...and that dive you did was pretty great," Neville said.

"What dive?"

"Well, it looked like a dive from where we were. Anyhow, by that time about half the players were on the field, since while everyone was fighting they were also sinking down," Neville continued. "Professor McGonagall said your shoulder was dislocated, and then she and Professor Snape got you onto that floating stretcher they keep around and took you up to the hospital wing while Dora and Madam Hooch got the teams calmed down. Course, then Remus and Sirius showed up and started yelling all over again."

"They said hi earlier," Harry said.

"They had dinner with the Professors in the Great Hall," Draco said, a little awed. "But Remus and Professor Tonks had to sit between Sirius and Professor Snape. I wouldn't like to be a part of that dinner party."

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asked Padma, who tended to have a better sense of proportion than the other two.

"Dinner?" she asked.

"No, the fight on the Pitch."

"Oh," she said vaguely. "I suppose so. It was pretty awful."

"What's going to happen to them? Montague and Bole, I mean."

"I suppose Bole might get expelled from the team," Neville said. "He hit Cricket pretty hard."

"He hit Cricket?" Padma asked, alarmed.

"Sure, didn't you see it? It was hard to miss when he hit the ground."

"What on earth -- oh, no," Harry moaned. "He was taking pictures, wasn't he?"

"Trying to," Draco said. "Before Bole broke his camera. Still, Cricket's not in the hospital wing, and you are."

"Poor little twit," said Neville. "Anyhow, the Headmaster said he's going to punish them personally, whatever that means. He's coming down hard on fighting, is Dumbledore."

"Parents might start to complain. I'm pretty sure Sirius did," Harry said. "I mean, about this and the blood on the wall."

"And the chickens," Draco added. Harry looked down at his half-finished meal. "Did anyone tell you about that?"

"I overheard," Harry said, reaching for the pumpkin juice to wash the suddenly bitter taste out of his mouth. "I heard Dora say she's going to call the Aurors if anything else happens."

"Really?" Padma and Draco chorused.

"Dumbledore didn't seem to think they'd help any, but Aurors are awfully clever. I bet they'd find out what the problem is in no time," Harry said.

"Dora hasn't," Neville pointed out. "Course, she hasn't got all her proper Auroring tools and things."

"Why would someone want to kill all the chickens?" Padma asked, in a hushed voice.

"Maybe it was just wild dogs," Draco said, which was not as soothing as it could have been, apparently.

"Maybe," Harry said, thinking of the conversation he'd overheard. Not dogs, then? No. Their throats were cut with a knife.

He was about to tell them about it when Sirius and Remus appeared in the doorway again, waiting patiently for Harry to finish with his friends. He said goodnight to the others, allowing Neville to deposit Snake (who'd slept through the whole wretched episode in Neville's pocket) on his blanket and take the tray away before Remus and Sirius walked down the long row of beds.

"Now then," Sirius said, seating himself and placing a large bowl of chocolate and shortbread trifle before Harry, who grinned, "I want to hear about this bed-sticking charm you lot did..."

***

Tonks might as well have kept silent, all things considered, since as November wound into December the school settled into the snowy deep-winter months peacefully and without incident. The school was supplied with chickens from a flock in Hogsmeade; every morning the chicken farmer strolled up the hill with a string of magic-stunned chickens following obediently behind him. The kitchen itself was presided over by Fang, the enormous boarhound that Hagrid the Groundskeeper owned, and no more bloody paintings appeared on the walls. As Brecon informed Harry, Fang was a terrible coward, but he did look the part of a terrifying hound.

Even Bole and Montague, who had emerged from Dumbledore's office white-faced and shaking after the match, agreed to peacefully ignore each others' existence. This was made easier by the fact that Bole was thrown off the Quidditch team, and Flint replaced him with a fourth-year named Towler who had apparently played cricket at his exclusive primary school. He explained to Harry that the Dunworth Academy prided itself on teaching its "exceptional students both Magical and Muggle Life Skills" and Harry certainly had never seen anyone hit a Bludger so far one-handedly.

And if Harry sometimes woke at night thinking he heard voices -- thinking he heard that voice, louder than ever-- he chalked it up to the lingering effects of the Quidditch accident, though his shoulder had healed with hardly a twinge.

By the time Professor McGonagall came around to the common room to sign up those who were staying at Hogwarts over the holiday, most students had forgotten the bloody scrawl or chalked it up to a school prank. Bole was sullen and given to spending his evenings alone in a corner of the common room, but he didn't cause any trouble, and the rumours about Montague and Professor Tonks had faded mercifully away.

Dora herself was staying at the school over the holidays to catch up on her reading, though she promised to come home to London for Christmas and New Year's, and even agreed, for the sake of family peace, to drag Severus along with her. Neville was going to spend the first week of the holidays at the Patils', then rejoin the extended family at Twelve Grimmauld Place in time to go caroling and Christmas shopping and such.

Draco was being taken along to Spain with Narcissa, who had decided he was now old enough to travel without complaining and fend for himself if she chose to spend an afternoon in Madrid's exclusive Wizarding Fashion district. He was looking forward to it, in a vague sort of way; Narcissa probably wouldn't bother with him too much, and he'd have the whole complement of the Malfoy house-elves to entertain him. Besides, he had loads of homework to do.

Harry glanced at Neville as Draco delivered this little monologue in the train compartment on the way to London. Neville raised his eyebrows as if to ask what Harry expected him to do about it.

"Will you send us postcards from Spain?" Padma asked, slightly enviously.

"I guess," Draco replied. "Mum says Mendy and Dobby can take me shopping for Christmas things."

"Wish I was going to Spain," Harry said.

"Sure," Draco answered, and twiddled the edge of his coat between his fingers before changing the subject to the truly outrageous Potions essay they'd been assigned. Professor Snape, announcing that the entire second year was falling behind, had given them two feet of parchment each to devote to a new potion of their choice, not covered by class yet, which they would be expected to research during the holiday and brew when they returned to school for the edification of their classmates.

Harry, worries about Draco aside, could not have been happier as they left the train station. He had Remus and Sirius and Andromeda and Ted all to himself for a week, after which he'd have Neville around too, after which there would be Christmas.

With Sirus' hand reassuringly on one shoulder and Remus asking him about classes and the books he'd brought home and whether he'd like to visit Madam Schaeffer's tomorrow, not to mention Ted slipping him sweets while Andromeda said he'd need to have his robes let down a few inches, Harry walked blissfully down the main street of Diagon Alley as if he owned the world.

***

There had been a time, years ago, when they'd tried to keep things from Harry, but it had turned out to be supremely pointless. It had taken him less than a year to puzzle out that Remus was a werewolf, and it hadn't been all that much longer before he'd pointed out that the Birds-and-Bees talk which Sirius was giving him didn't seem to be covering Harry's Two Dads.

So Sirius had stopped worrying, fairly quickly, about Harry wandering into the bedroom to wake them up in the mornings and finding one or both of them without clothes on. They had blankets on the bed, after all, and Harry usually gave them the privacy in which to throw on pyjamas and dressing-gowns and wander out into the kitchen for breakfast.

It was just that Harry woke them up at seven in the bloody morning.

"I'm going to kill your godson," Remus moaned, as Harry cheerfully fled the bedroom, still shouting about breakfast.

"My godson? He's your blood-relation," Sirius replied, rolling out of bed. "I smell sausages."

"SAUSAGES!" Harry shouted, from the kitchen.

"He's going to kill us both in a house fire before I get to him," Remus continued, making no effort at all to get out of bed. Sirius tossed him his dressing gown as he located relatively clean clothing.

"I have it on good authority there are probably pancakes too."

"Harry doesn't know how to make pancakes," Remus said, now truly alarmed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Sirius leaned over and kissed him, then nearly overbalanced and caught himself with one hand on the other side of Remus' chest.

The early morning, the smell of slowly burning sausages, and the fact that his hair was sticking out every-which-way were suddenly irrelevant, enveloped in the warmth of kissing Remus, his scent, his mouth. He didn't even consciously think as he leaned further over in preparation to crawl back into the nice warm bed --

"SAUSAGES AND EGGS!" Harry shouted. Sirius winced.

"Later," he said, in a hushed whisper.

"Too late," Remus answered. "They'll keep warm -- "

"Close your eyes and think about Cornelius Fudge naked."

"Oooh," Remus said, dropping back onto the pillows. "That worked. Yuck."

Sirius chuckled as he wandered into the kitchen, reaching around Harry for a glass of orange juice.

"Is it really necessary to be awake this early?" he asked, conversationally, as Harry transferred the sausages into a magically heated dish and cracked four eggs into the grease.

"Today?" Harry asked.

"Ever."

"Yes," he said decidedly.

"This is what comes of raising children to have a work ethic," Sirius said, as Remus wandered out, doing up the dressing gown over a pair of pyjama trousers. "I blame you."

"You kidnapped him first," Remus muttered, locating the tea on instinct and heating the kettle with a tap of his wand.

"Are we going to Mardjinn Alley today?" Harry asked. Remus chuckled.

"Now I see," he said. "Bribery! I am not to be bought with sausages."

"That's not what I hear," Sirius said into his orange juice.

"Are we?" Harry repeated.

"Yes, and then to Fansif Alley, and maybe for ice cream," Remus recited. "Sirius wants to sell you off to the art world as a living sculpture."

"I just want him to meet Helena. I want a portrait," Sirius said stubbornly.

"Can't you just take a picture?" Harry asked.

"His breeding is showing," Remus said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Wealthy pureblood wizards don't stoop to things like photographs."

"I have boxes and boxes of photographs," Sirius protested. "I just think it would be nice to have a painting."

By the time they had eaten and washed and dressed for the chilly London weather, Harry was almost dancing with impatience. They met other witches and wizards they knew, walking down Diagon towards Gringott's, and even a few of Harry's classmates. Oliver Wood waved through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies where he'd gotten a holiday job; a couple of Ravenclaws came dashing out of Madam Schaeffer's, crying a quick hello as they went. Madam Schaeffer herself greeted them, her arms full of silk cloth and bright ribbons to make soft toys with as they passed. Blaise Zabini and his parents were coming out of Gringott's, and Mr. Zabini stopped to discuss some investment that he and Sirius had both gone in on and how it was maturing. Remus dawdled down towards the big arching gate that was the boundary line between Diagon and Mardjinn, while Harry and Blaise had a snowball fight.

Mardjinn Alley itself was a mess of sales stalls, second-hand bookstores, thrift shops, odd little places full of strange devices, and eateries with peculiar foreign Wizarding food. Most children (Blaise included) thought it was shabby and second-rate, but to Harry it was the strangest place in a world that, as a child, had already been strange and wonderful to him. He dimly sensed, too, that Remus liked it the way he did; he knew Remus had been poor when he was a boy and had bought all his school things there. Mardjinn Alley made Remus and Harry happy, and that meant Sirius was happy.

They visited the bookshops first, where everyone knew Remus and most people knew Sirius; they still talked there, in hushed tones, about the night Sandust Books had burned down. Sirius found a few novels he wanted and Harry found a history of Quidditch which Remus said was wildly inaccurate but which did have brilliant woodcuts. The trinket stores were their next victim, and Harry found a set of engraved brass orbs that had no apparent purpose but which he was sure Padma would love for Christmas.

There were the musty old clothes shops, too, which were mainly filled with shabby robes and clothing of various sorts, but which occasionally yielded a treasure or two. Harry always shivered a little when he saw the shop that sold leather goods, since it had a dusty decades-old display of snakeskin boots and belts in the window, but it was still a dark, sharp-scented and mysterious place with a back room which children weren't allowed into. Remus said they sold mainly dog-training supplies, which Sirius seemed to find extremely amusing.

Finally, loaded with books, Padma's Christmas present and a huge sack of Green Dragon Toffee for Draco, they made their way back up towards Diagon and the second gate that led to Fansif Alley, where Broosh & Chakle Studios stood. It was just past Flourish & Blotts, and as they approached they saw an enormous crowd of people near the doors.

"Has there been a robbery?" Sirius asked a witch he knew slightly. She shook her head.

"It's Gilderoy Lockhart!" she squealed excitedly.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Remus asked. His lip curled slightly.

"He's here! And he's doing a reading AND a signing!" she continued.

"Is he laying-on hands, too?" Remus inquired. She gave him a confused look.

"Laying hands on what?" she said over her shoulder, as she joined the crush to get inside.

"Moony," Sirius murmured.

"What's wrong with Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry asked. "Who is he?"

"A fraud, that's all," Remus replied, clearly tense. Harry had rarely seen him this way; Remus didn't often get angry, except when someone said something about Sirius, or about Harry. Or about werewolves.

Remus had taken Harry's arm and was starting to pull him past the crowd, but it was hard going, and they found themselves shoved inside the bookshop before they knew what was happening. Sirius was a few feet back, elbowing his way through the press and shouting for them to meet him by the Arithmancy section, which was always empty, when another strident voice cut across the crowds.

"Is that Sirius Black?" asked a tall blond man in violently blue robes that matched his eyes. "Make way! I'm sure if Mr. Black has come to hear my reading he must have brought his young charge -- "

The sea of people parted before the blond man, leaving a path straight to Harry, who was afraid for a moment that he was going to be attacked.

"Master Harry Potter, here to attend my reading. Well, this is an honour," the blond man said.

"Who is he?" Harry asked Remus. The blond man laughed, heartily.

"Oh! Such a joker. Surely you recognise me, Harry? Gilderoy Lockhart. Such a pleasure to meet you. And this must be your tutor, Mr. Lupin -- "

"You've been upgraded from valet," Harry heard Sirius say in Remus' ear, as he finally arrived at their side.

"...and Mr. Black," Lockhart finished. "It's good to see you taking such an interest in your godson's education."

Something complicated was going on between the adults, and Harry decided not to announce that they had come into the shop by mistake. He could feel the tension radiating off Remus in waves, and Sirius was trying to be some kind of buffer, which was hard, because he was behind Remus.

"Now, you come right down to the front here near the table and we'll get you all set with an autographed copy of the new book I'm sure you're here to pick up -- Talking Transformations, a limited edition of all my absolute best stories, culled carefully from my vast body of work. A very educational book for a young man like yourself -- " Lockhart plucked a book off the stack and signed it. Harry saw an enormous photo of the man, which took up almost the entire back cover, winking and smiling at him.

"Free of charge," Lockhart said, handing Harry the book. Harry opened it, meaning to read the inscription, but the page fell open to the table of contents instead. Several of the chapter headings were from a book called Wanderings With Werewolves. Remus' anger began to make more sense.

"Thank you," Harry said, rather coldly. "But I think we must be going."

"So soon?" Lockhart asked. "Surely you can stay for at least a few minutes. I do extremely good dramatic readings, though I say it myself."

Remus and Sirius were already trying to push back the way they'd come, but the crowd had closed tightly around them.

"Surely you, Mr. Lupin, would like to stay? Your reputation in Dark Studies precedes you," Lockhart said. "As one expert to another -- "

"Where's the other one then?" Remus asked sharply.

"Don't be so modest! I happen to know that you've applied several of the precepts from my earlier book in your travels before settling down as Master Potter's tutor. Why, I imagine you have the entire library of my works. Isn't it funny, us meeting like this?" Lockhart leaned in, suddenly, and turned his head enough for a small man with a large camera to snap a photo of the four of them.

Harry glanced up at Remus. A terrible, predatory smile was spreading across his face. Harry began to edge closer to Sirius.

"Yes, I've been meaning to question you on several aspects of your writing," he said.

"Splendid! Perhaps over lunch? I'm sure Mr. Black and his godson will want some time alone, and I must say," Lockhart lowered his voice and said something almost in Remus' ear that Harry couldn't catch. A faint tinge of red crossed Remus' cheeks, and suddenly Sirius was tense too.

"Why not now?" Remus asked politely. "I'm sure your audience would be pleased to hear an impromptu discussion of, perhaps, your studies in werewolf biology."

Lockhart beamed as a spate of applause rippled through the audience.

"I was wondering about your methods of detecting lycanthropes, especially in an urban setting. I'm given to understand that in the wilderness you've tracked them by spoor?"

"Yes, though also by the fur they shed -- "

"Ah, yes," Remus cut him off. Lockhart looked annoyed. "You were on the Steppes, I believe."

"That's correct -- "

"In January? No, that can't be right," Remus said thoughtfully. "Werewolves don't shed in the winter months. Too little hair as it is. Oh, I suppose you could recognise one that way?"

"What way?" Lockhart asked.

"Well, a werewolf's coat -- so I've heard -- isn't quite so thick as a true wolf's. Doesn't help much the other twenty-seven days, though. How do you find so many of them in the big cities?"

"The -- werewolves are drawn to big cities."

"Really? Have you read Sanzecki's study of the bioethical urge?"

Lockhart didn't just look annoyed -- he looked lost. "Well, there are differing opinions on the subject -- "

"Of course. But you wouldn't say that werewolves actually instinctively avoid situations where they will come into contact with humans?"

"My dear Mr. Lupin, it's a well-known fact that werewolves hunt humans."

"Have you asked any werewolves?"

Harry felt Sirius' hand tighten on his shoulder.

"They're hardly in a position to say."

"Not in your stories," Remus said drily. A few people laughed. "Generally you pounce rather quickly, eh? Hex first, ask questions later?"

"I am doing a public service -- "

"For whom? It seems to me that most people who attack an individual unprovoked in a -- shall we say a telephone box? -- are arrested for assault. Of course, I suppose most people don't have a notable reputation as a werewolf hunter," Remus added, with sardonic graciousness. "I'd also be most interested in your etymology."

"Mr. Lupin! Not in front of the children!" Lockhart joked. Very few people laughed. Some of them were looking extremely thoughtful.

"I believe..." Remus said, as he took the book from Harry's unresisting fingers, "That you mention it in The Episode Of The Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Let's see..." He flipped deftly through the pages, then glanced up at Lockhart. "Would you like to read, Mr. Lockhart, or shall I? Just there, second paragraph."

Lockhart cleared his throat, stepped backwards, threw back his shoulders, held the book at arm's length, coughed for good measure, and declaimed, "As he howled, I pounced on him from the window and slammed him to the dusty stone floor of the castle ruins. The moon drifted through the skeletal trees above us as I pinned him neatly with one hand. He scratched and snarled, but I was relentless; bruised, bleeding, and exhausted, I pressed on."

Horror crept over Harry as he listened. Sirius was gripping his shoulder so tightly it hurt.

"With my free hand I fumbled for my wand and pressed it into his belly, then screwed up my remaining strength for a final thrust and performed the immensely complicated Homorphus Charm. He moaned, piteously, but within a few seconds the claws, the teeth and hair had begun to recede -- and I found myself pinning an unconscious man to the cold stone floor. Simple but effective, and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

This did merit some applause; it was true that Lockhart wasn't a bad performer. Harry, however, was watching Remus.

"Homorphus, did you say?" Remus asked.

"Yes," Lockhart replied, having regained some of his imperturbability. "Homo, hominis, man; morphus, change or transformation."

"From the Latin?"

"Yes."

Harry heard someone draw a sharp breath in the crowd.

"What about the Greek?" Remus asked.

"What about it?" Lockhart replied.

"Morphus isn't Latin."

"Of course it is, man."

"Morphus is a Greek root. As is Homo," Remus replied. Two small spots of colour rose in Lockhart's cheeks. The crowd began to murmur quietly. "From the root Morphe, a noun concerning external appearance, and Homos, meaning similar. You know the modern usage of homos, I'm sure. Homogenous," Remus said. "Or homosexual?"

Lockhart began to sputter when Remus said homosexual.

"I'm sure your spell was just as complex, but I highly doubt it was homorphus," Remus said. "Unless, of course, you made the werewolf look just like you?"

***

"That," Sirius said, as they sat in a quiet booth in the Leaky Cauldron and Remus drank a very large whiskey to calm his nerves, "was brilliant, Moony."

"It was highly stupid is what it was," Remus replied. "Werewolves! Why did I pick werewolves?"

"Brilliant," Sirius insisted.

"I think it was brilliant too," Harry added, around a mouthful of crisps.

"Did I actually say homosexual in a crowded store full of people?" Remus demanded.

"It's not a filthy word, you know."

"Yes but I -- " Remus leaned forward, urgently. "I happen to be one, and there's no need to call attention to the fact!"

"You're also a -- "

"Don't say it!"

"Well, you said that too."

"Yes, because I am stupid. I let my anger get in the way of my common sense. Let this be a lesson to you, Harry," Remus added. "The only thing that happens when you crush stupid people with your intellect is you do stupid things yourself."

"That's not true," Harry declared. "Professor Snape does it all the time and he never looks stupid. And you didn't either," he added.

"Severus Snape making a habit of it is not the best recommendation, Harry," Remus said gently.

"What did Lockhart say to you when he asked you to lunch, anyhow?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not repeating it," Remus answered.

"He fancies you," Harry said.

"You are an odd child."

"Your fault," Harry replied placidly.

Remus finished his whiskey in a swallow, and glanced at Sirius. "We could still stop by Broosh & Chackle if you like."

"Let's go home," Sirius said. "We can get rid of the packages and put Draco's sweets in the mail to him. I'll send Helena flowers in apology. "

***

They left Harry downstairs with Ted, who was more than happy to help Harry package up and mail parcels to Padma and Draco, whom he wouldn't see before they returned to school. Remus carried the rest of the parcels upstairs while Sirius had a word with Ted, and he was leafing through a battered, leatherbound book when he heard the door open and close.

"The day wasn't a complete write-off, anyway," he said, closing the book and setting it on the table. "I found -- "

He was abruptly cut off by Sirius' mouth as the other man kissed him roughly, pushing him back against the kitchen wall.

"Merlin, Sirius -- " he said, as Sirius' body pressed up against his. "The books aren't that good."

"But you are," Sirius replied, kissing the sensitive spot just behind his jaw. "Ted's watching Harry."

"Door's locked?" Remus managed, around a moan, giving up on any attempt to control him for the moment. Sirius' hands were creeping up under his shirt, sliding around his waist to pull him away from the wall. He felt the hard pressure of Sirius' erection against his thigh, through their clothes.

"Locked and hexed shut."

"Been planning this long?" Remus asked. Sirius had hiked his shirt up as far as it would go without pulling it off, which would mean separating for a moment. He drifted his hands down Sirius' back, untucking his shirttails. Sirius laughed against his collarbone, then sucked gently on the skin just over his pulse. Remus tilted his head back, moaning.

"Since the bookstore," Sirius said hoarsely, stepping back to help him off with his shirt.

"Bedroom," Remus managed. They stumbled around the kitchen table, shedding clothing as they went, and tumbled mostly-naked onto the bed in a friendly, groping heap. "Really?"

"Mm," Sirius said, scrambling on top with a laugh and shifting his hips so that Remus could slide one leg up along his thigh, anchoring him in place. "Yeah."

"Why?" Remus asked, arching up. "Oh -- "

"Too many questions," Sirius said, thrusting down against him delightfully. Remus caught his breath and forgot the next question he was going to ask in the feel of Sirius' body on top of his, skin on skin, Sirius' agile mouth and skilled hands.

"Moony," Sirius moaned. "Yes, there -- "

It was messy and fast and too rough, but god it was good to be touched and to hear Sirius swear and say his name. Too soon he felt that blissful high that meant Sirius only needed to thrust and cry out and oh...

When he caught his breath, Sirius was still on top of him, nuzzling his shoulder affectionately and looking only mildly ashamed of himself.

"Good?" he asked quietly. Remus laughed, and nodded, and let his head fall back on the pillow.

"Good, Padfoot," he said, smoothing Sirius' hair with his fingers.

"Good."

"Clearly we owe Ted something really great for Christmas."

Sirius laughed into his skin. "Sorry about molesting you in our kitchen."

"I like it when you molest me."

"It was just..." Sirius was quiet for a while. Remus tweaked his ear. "Ow!"

"Tell your secrets, Sirius Black!"

Sirius laughed again. "It's just that watching you demolish that pompous ass was really..."

"Sad? He's a sad small man and I shouldn't have been cruel to him."

"Arousing."

Remus shook his head.

"Yes, Moony. You were brilliant. I wanted to snog you right up against the table of Lockhart's books."

"That certainly would have been an interesting capper to the show."

"You're brilliant."

"Anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of Greek -- "

"Moony."

Remus fell silent. Sirius drew a breath and continued.

"Plenty of people know Greek. I know Greek. It takes real brains to use it to teach bastards like Lockhart a lesson." Sirius snickered. "Brains and courage. Not to mention being hung like a -- "

"Sirius!"

"Mmm. Say it again."

Remus smiled and spread his hand possessively across Sirius' cheek, more than satisfied with the day's events.

"Sirius," he said quietly.

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