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Chapter Text

If you were to ask anyone in Privet Drive about Sirius, they would tell you that he’s little Harry Potter’s dog. He’s a bit scary given his size, almost as big as the boy himself, but he’s otherwise harmless… as long as you treat Harry well, that is. The black hound is always there to protect his little master from anyone that wishes him harm. Such a good pet, that Sirius.

If you were to ask Harry himself, the answer probably wouldn’t be much different, either. He’d smile placidly and agree with that description, but in reality, he would be holding back words. He wouldn’t tell you that his dog sometimes is also a human. Tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome with a mischievous smile and sharp eyes that spell danger for whoever comes near, and yet no matter the shape he takes, he’s always Harry’s obedient puppy. He’s trained him very well, after all.

"Sirius!" Harry yells as soon as he gets out of the train, drawing the gazes of many concerned adults. Their frowns, however, turn into sighs of relief as a big dog barks and runs into the preteen boy, covering him with wet kisses while his tail wags like crazy.

Harry laughs as the pink tongue attacks his face. "I missed you too, buddy."

It's been too long since they last saw each other, the last time being during the easter break, just a few days to catch up between the months they had to stay apart. It's not usually like this, If things were normal Harry would have brought his pet to the castle, but after hearing news of Bellatrix Lestrange escaping Azkaban, dementors roaming Hogwarts, and Remus Lupin taking the position of DADA professor, they both knew there would be too much risk of discovery.

They can't let anyone know that Sirius is still alive. Not when he's still a wanted man, not when discovery would mean being separated permanently.

There's little Harry wouldn't do for him, and even less that Sirius wouldn't do for Harry, but even he knows there's nothing he can do if a dementor kisses him.

So, their solution was to separate, just for the year.

It was hard, but doable, and now that the last term is over, they can finally be in each other's arms—

“Woof!”

—Or well, paws.

They don't separate for a long while, enough time for people to stop paying attention to them and go back to whatever they were doing before. 

Harry doesn't mind either way, it's not like these people care about him. Those who don't have their own children to care for are just here for a glimpse at the Boy-Who-Lived, and since Neville is about to come out of the train at any moment, it gives him the perfect opportunity to sneak out of there.

Despite his young age, Harry has perfected the art of fading into the background, a very useful ability when faced with situations like this one. No one glances twice at him as he navigates through the masses of bodies, his luggage shrunken and put away just before he leaves through the fake wall to the muggle side of the station. From there, it doesn’t matter as much if people notice him, but he still makes sure no one is looking at him when they enter the public loos.

Once they're there, and less than five seconds after Harry locks the door behind him, the massive black dog is gone, replaced by a tall man with a wild mane of wavy black hair instead of fur, but the same adoring grey eyes, the same emerald green collar wrapped around his neck. The man, Sirius Black, his godfather, his puppy, doesn't hesitate to get on his knees on the sticky floor and envelop Harry's body with his strong arms.

“Harry!” he cries out, running his hands through the young boy’s body, slipping his digits under his oversized shirt to touch as much of his soft skin as possible.

Harry doesn’t complain even once about it. "It's been hard for you, hasn't it, pet?" he asks, voice full of longing as he runs his hands through his godfather's hair.

"You have no idea, Harry. I was so alone," he whines, nuzzling his face into the boy's torso, dropping small kisses over the exposed patch of skin.  Sirius breathes in his warm and familiar scent, and it somehow manages to both calm him down and excite him within a few seconds. He can feel his cock hardening between his legs, and as he presses against Harry he realises that his godson is also in a similar situation.

Shifting slightly down, his mouth presses against the preteen’s clothed prick. "Can I?" he begs.

Harry bites his lips, pretending to think it over, enjoying the pleading eyes Sirius puts. He can be such a child sometimes. "Alright," the boy says with a small chuckle, trying to keep his voice steady. "You can—Actually, wait."

Sirius protests, but Harry doesn't pay him attention, moving to unlock the door behind him. He ignores Sirius' gasp, and walks into one of the stalls, signalling to the older man to follow him.

Sirius moves to stand up, but Harry 'tch's. "Silly Sirius, pets walk on all fours, remember?"

Sirius shudders, but obediently goes back down, crawling towards his young lover over the dirty bathroom floor. Once they're both inside the cubicle he raises himself up just enough to kneel in front of Harry, his arse resting on the balls of his feet. "Now?" he asks, trying not to sound as desperate as he is.

Harry notices it anyway, and gives him a warm smile. He closes the stall door behind him, but purposefully doesn't lock it. " Now you can pull me out."

They can risk it in here, a wizard is one thing, but a muggle can easily be obliviated, and over the year he's really come to appreciate the excitement of doing something so lewd somewhere where they could be found out at any moment 

Sirius doesn't waste a single second before desperately moving to undo Harry's belt and opening his jeans, but he still has to stop for a second to take a sharp breath when he realises that Harry isn't wearing any pants under them.

Harry giggles. "Knew you'd be desperate for it," he teases Sirius.

"I am," the man admits, harshly tugging down on his jeans until they're pooled around the boy's dirty red shoes. If anyone walks in they'll be able to see a full grown man on his knees for a schoolboy from the gaps under the stalls, but right now Sirius doesn't care. He wants one thing only.

Harry's hard cock bounces as it's freed from the confines of his jeans, almost hitting Sirius' face in the process. He’s almost sad at the near miss, and quickly fixes the issue by burying his nose below it, kissing Harry's balls and letting the shaft rub against his face.

Harry hisses, tugging on his mane sharply and pulling him away slightly.  Sirius moans.

"Stubble," his godson reminds him, before letting him go back, his hand still holding him by the hair as if it were a leash.

Merlin , he wishes it was. The mere thought is enough to get him all worked up.

This time Sirius is more careful, using his tongue to lap at Harry's hairless sack, eagerly taking in the salty flavour. Harry moans freely, his hold tightening, and the older man takes that as a cue to move upwards, licking a long stripe along the underside of his owner's cock.

Harry’s cock is big enough for a boy his age, especially given his small stature, but at the end of the day he's still a kid while Sirius is an adult, his tongue is massive against the preteen's erection, so effective in giving him pleasure, as evidenced by the soft moans Harry keeps letting out.

His hands wander up until they’re holding Harry's arse, each one of them taking a firm hold on each of his cheeks, squeezing the soft muscles and spreading them to reveal the puckered hole to the air of the room.

“Hnnngh,” Harry whines as one of his thick fingers teases his entrance. It's been months since they last saw each other, let alone touched each other's bodies. Harry's hole twitches when Sirius tries to press in, but it doesn't let him in as easily as it used to.

“Wait ‘till we get home. I'll let you lick me open again,” Harry promises.

“Yes,” Sirius eagerly agrees, teasing Harry's hole one last time before settling on just squeezing his pillowy cheeks and going back down to lick the head of Harry's cock.

"Good boy," the boy praises him, and if Sirius had been in his dog form his tail would be wagging.

As it is, he simply wraps his lips around the tip of Harry's cock, using his tongue to pleasure the spongy head, getting under his foreskin and then lapping at the precum escaping his slit.

The rich taste on his taste buds makes Sirius’ cock twitch inside his pants, so he repeats his actions a couple of times, drinking in Harry's flavour with fervour.

Harry, appreciative of his efforts, gasps as heat spreads through his body, making him twitch in Sirius' mouth.

The older man moans around him, and the noise echoes in the empty room. Only they can be heard, their laboured breaths, the wet, slurping noises Sirius' makes as he sucks his cock, the slap of skin against skin as Harry's balls hit his chin, clothes ruffling as he undoes his trousers and takes himself into his hand.

Harry chuckles softly when he sees him doing that. It's not like the older man can wank himself right now. Not when his erection is being trapped by a silver cock cage.

It's a new addition, that toy, first brought up by him as a joke and then once again later by Sirius, in a more serious manner.

Harry has to admit that he was elated when Sirius first bought the silver artefact. With all the time they were going to spend apart, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if his pet had looked for relief with someone else. It would have hurt, but Harry wouldn't have told him that, it's not like they were boyfriends after all.

He's Sirius' master, his owner, his caretaker, his godson, all of that in a really complicated package that he would refuse to explain to anyone but the man on his knees in front of him.

Luckily, he won't ask him to. At the moment Sirius is too busy swallowing his cock for that.

His moans of pleasure have an underlying tone of frustration, and the situation is so erotic that Harry can't help but moan along.

It's a symphony of sex, with an audience of only two.

"Greedy dog," Harry groans when he sees that Sirius is rubbing his hand over the cage, trying to get any form of pleasure from it.

It's been around a week since he last orgasmed, Harry knows. He'd been watching with the communication mirrors the last time he gave Sirius permission to unlock the cage and wank himself under his master's instructions. Harry witnessed with dark eyes as Sirius edged himself to tears before spilling all over his naked body, his orgasm so strong a rope of cum made it all the way up to his face.

Harry had wanted to lick it so badly back then, he can only imagine that as a fraction of the desperation Sirius is feeling right now.

The man whines, pressing down and taking Harry's whole length into his mouth as an apology. The head just barely reaches his throat, but he doesn't gag, used to taking Harry just like this. The beginning of pubic hair tickling his nose as it's pressed against Harry's body are new though. He has no idea when it started to grow, he's missed so much in just a few months.

He doesn't have time to kill over it, however, as Harry cries out in pleasure, the noise pulling him out of his thoughts.

The boy's face is flushed red, his hips jerking slightly as Sirius starts to move up and down his length. He sucks hard and uses his tongue to stimulate the shaft, and Harry rewards him by burying his fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp with just enough strength to make him tremble.

He loves it when Harry pets him.

"Merlin," the boy moans, fucking into his pet's mouth. "So good for me, Sirius. Just like that."

Harry's voice cracks a little near the end of the sentence, and for some reason it makes Sirius' body feel hot all over. He redoubles his effort, bobbing up and down on the shaft with a newfound passion. Harry's cock is so hot against his tongue, so hard yet so delicate, just like the boy himself.

“I'm close,” Harry cries out, but doesn't stop thrusting into Sirius' warm mouth. He starts fucking it harder, knowing that the man will be able to take it, and as if reading his mind, Sirius goes limp in his hold, letting Harry use him just like he wants to, sucking hard to make it as good as possible for him.

There are tears on the corners of Sirius's eyes, saliva escaping from his mouth, and his face is flushed red from the lack of oxygen. He looks so hot like this, it's a miracle Harry doesn't cum on the spot.

In turn, Harry’s own face is so warm it feels like burning, his mouth gaping open as he moans, eyelashes fluttering in pleasure while his cock pulses in Sirius' mouth, his heartbeat reverberating through it.

At some point he shifts his stance until his foot is between Sirius’ knees, his leg in the perfect position for Sirius to rut his locked cock against. The older man takes it as an invitation, and promptly starts to move up and down, frotting against Harry's exposed leg.

“Just like a bitch in heat,” the boy says with a chuckle, but he's too out of breath to sound mean. Still, the humiliation of it all only serves to make Sirius' cock stand taller.

“That cage won't stop you, will it? You’re gonna cum just like that, Sirius? Going to spill all over my shoes?”

Sirius nods eagerly, not once separating from Harry's mouth or stopping the movement of his hips.

“Fuck,” Harry curses, his thrusts starting to falter as he approaches his peak. “What a dirty puppy. If you like messes so much I'll give you one you'll love .”

It's not long after that that he fucks into Sirius' mouth one final time before he cums, his hot seed spilling into his godfather's throat as the ripples of pleasure run through his body. He's holding Sirius' head flushed against his pelvis, stopping him from moving as rope after rope of cum flood his throat.

The animagus has no choice but to take it all, swallowing as best as he can around Harry's length, using his hand on Harry's arse as leverage. It's a testament to how much he's missed him that this is all he needs to reach completion himself. Like a horny teenager, he shakes as he cums against Harry's leg, his jizz coming out as a slow dribble from his locked cock, covering not only his shoes but also his jeans with jizz.

“Merlin, Sirius. Look at you,” Harry says as he lets go of his head. “I have the prettiest pet in the world.”

Sirius lets out a shaky laugh at that, his head slightly shaky as it finally manages to get a good supply of air. He manages to pepper small kisses on Harry cock before the boy pulls away, licks the cum clean off of it as it starts to soften. 

“I missed you so much,” Sirius confesses, using the recent activities to excuse the roughness of his voice, his head pressed against Harry's leg.

“Oh, Sirius,” Harry says, kneeling down to his level. “I missed you too.”

He leans forward and presses his lips against Sirius' in a soft kiss. He lets it be chaste at first but when Sirius opens his mouth he doesn't hesitate to slip his tongue in, tasting himself all over his pet's mouth.

“Take me home?” he asks his godfather, voice just shy of desperate.

Sirius is more than happy to do as asked, enveloping the young boy in his arms as he starts to apparate with a loud crack. Moments later, the only evidence of their activities is a wet spot on the dirty bathroom floor, completely inconspicuous, unless you know it's there.

Just like the couple that left it there.

Chapter Text

Harry doesn't really like Grimmauld's Place at first.

It's dark and dirty like his cupboard, and he really doesn't want to think about his cupboard after being able to leave it forever, but after his first year at Hogwarts it's nice to have a place where he can just relax without worrying about people realising Sirius is more than just a dog.

It was a shock when his pet told him his story, about trusting the wrong person and inadvertently causing his parents’ deaths, but Harry understood that it wasn't his fault.

Peter Pettigrew was the one to blame, and Sirius already made justice when he managed to kill him after the fact.

The fact that he's a killer doesn't really affect Harry. Pettigrew killed his mum and dad, as far as the eleven year old boy is concerned, he got what was coming to him.

Unfortunately, the last spell the man managed to cast trapped Harry's godfather in his animal form, where he spent years without being able to switch back until his bond with Harry helped him break away from the curse.

Not that he can really go back to the wizarding world now, what with being a wanted murderer and all.

So Grimmauld's Place is their sanctuary, the place where they are free to be themselves without any prying eyes judging them. Just the two of them—

“Nasty half-blood master! Control your pet!”

—and Kreacher.

Harry sighs, going over to check what his godfather is doing.

The fact that he's regained his human form hasn't erased all those years the man spent as a dog. For a little while Harry thought Sirius would be kind of like an adoptive dad to him, but the truth is that not much has changed from when Harry first claimed Sirius as his pet.

He's as much of an animal as he is a man, so Harry makes sure to take care of him like he promised to do when he first collared him.

“What is he doing now?” he asks the house elf, preparing himself for anything from Sirius destroying furniture to him dancing naked to muggle songs in the living room.

“Traitor master is attacking poor mistress!” Kreacher screeches, voice filled with despair as he pulls on his ears.

Harry winces. Mrs. Black’s portrait isn't exactly the nicest person in the world— “She's a bitch,” Sirius' voice says in his head —but usually Sirius doesn't do much more than argue with her and shut her up by closing the curtains in front of her. He's never really seen his godfather get violent the way Kreacher claims.

“Are you sure—”

“STOP AT THIS INSTANT, YOU TRAITOROUS CHILD! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO YOUR OWN MOTHER!” Walburga's voice from the other end of the hallway stops him from voicing his doubts, and he starts walking faster as he hears Sirius himself respond.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, you hag!” his godfather answers cheerily, just in time for Harry to enter the room.

“Sirius, what are you doing?” the boy asks as soon as he's visible, frowning with concern at the sight before him.

Sirius, as always, is more than happy to see his godson, stopping his actions without a care just to talk to him.

“Harry! Hi! I'm remodelling, can't you tell?” he asks with a bright smile, he has his wand on his left hand, and a sledgehammer on the right one, and he looks ready to use both of them against the portrait.

Walburga doesn't seem to appreciate her son's decorative endeavour's, turning towards Harry to yell at him. “YOU! CHILD! TAKE HIM AWAY FROM HERE! STOP HIS MADNESS!” she screeches, completely unaware of the irony of her of all people saying that.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns towards Sirius. “Can you cast a silencing charm at her, please?”

Sirius is so fast in his spellcasting Harry almost misses the movement of his wand. He's swift in silencing his mother, and Harry takes the opportunity to close the curtains in front of her face before turning to face the older man.

Sirius' face is slightly red, and Harry can tell that his knees are shaking. On his wrist, the bracelet connected to his godfather's collar—the one that symbolises their bond—is warm to the touch, the magic in it buzzing with impatience.

“Oh, is it like that again? I didn't realise,” Harry says, understanding spreading across his face.

Sirius blushes even harder, but doesn't say anything, looking away to avoid Harry's eyes. He can be so stubborn sometimes.

Kreacher scowls at them, baring his teeth. “Kreacher will be going to his room. Kreacher does not want to be seeing the nasty masters being nasty,” he says, apparating away.

Sirius ignores the house elf easily, looking anywhere but in Harry's direction. “I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just—”

“Pet,” Harry says, making Sirius click his mouth shut. “Kneel.”

“Harry…” Sirius’ voice is shaky, like he's running out of breath, an inflection that Harry's come to know really well.

“Don't make this harder on yourself,” Harry says, walking towards him. The top of his head can barely reach his torso, but he stands tall and proud, ready to take control. “You're so good at following commands, don't you want to be my good boy?”

Sirius whines.

“Be a good dog for me, Sirius. Kneel.”

This time the man obeys, hitting the floor with so much strength Harry worries about the state of his knees.

“I'm sorry,” Sirius cries, hiding his face in Harry's body. “I shouldn't be making you do this.”

Despite his words, his hands are already on the boy's body, stealing as much contact with his skin as they can.

Harry hums with pleasure as his fingertips find his nipples, pinching them just enough to avoid being painful. “I don't mind, I like taking care of what's mine.”

Sirius' breath falters, the black of his eyes overtaking the grey.

It's not even a lie. Harry takes great pleasure in taking care of Sirius, in making him fall apart with a single touch, with a single word, and then putting him back together. It's a rush of power like he's felt nowhere else, and knowing he's trusted with it fills his chest with happiness. The Dursleys would have rather died than trust Harry, and yet here Sirius is, his cock straining in his trousers yet he's making no moves to touch it, instead waiting patiently for Harry to do something about it.

And something about it he does. He's not wearing any shoes today, just a pair of long white socks that go all the way up to his knees, paired up with some short shorts and a dressing shirt that used to belong to Sirius' younger brother when he was a child.

(And no, he's not salty that he's nearly twelve and a little boy's clothes fit him perfectly.)

With clear movements, Harry raises one foot and uses it to press against Sirius' crotch, feeling a familiar hardness under his sole.

“Haaah,” Sirius pants, bucking upwards as his hands find balance by holding his waist. His hands are so big he can almost touch the tips of his fingers together as he circles Harry's body. He likes that a lot.

Harry hums. “You're so pent up already, aren't you? Need me to take care of your needy cock?” he asks, rubbing his foot up and down his length. The naughty words are still somewhat new to him, but he likes the way Sirius reacts to them.

“Please?” the man begs, biting his trembling lower lip.

Harry is happy to pleasure him, pressing his foot down firmly and letting Sirius frot against it. He's so hard it must be painful, and the harsh fabric of his trousers rubbing against his prick can't be helping. “Take off your trousers.”

Sirius stands up so fast Harry almost loses his balance, and he glares at Sirius, who winces slightly but doesn't stop his movements.

Harry huffs and moves to sit on the couch nearby, watching with amusement as Sirius strips himself of not only his trousers, but also his shirt, shoes, and pants, leaving him stark-naked in the middle of the room.

“Woah,” Harry teases him. “That eager to get naked? My puppy is such a slag.”

Even the humiliating words only serve to make the man’s erection twitch and his face redden. Harry won't pretend to understand it, but if it makes Sirius feel good, he'll call him all the names in the world. He has an entire mental collection of them he's built just by keeping an ear on Fred and George Weasley when they start joking around with each other.

“It's not like that,” Sirius tries to defend himself, but even Harry can tell that it's just a perfunctory (thank Hermione for teaching him that one) attempt.

“Hmm, isn't it? Are you telling me you wouldn't strip naked in the middle of the street if I asked you to? You wouldn't let me touch your cock and your hole whenever I want to?”

“I would!” Sirius whines, kneeling and getting between Harry's legs.

Harry smirks. “Oh, but I thought you weren't a slag. Hands behind your back.”

“M’not,” he slurs out. “It's just for you. I swear”

Harry presses his foot against Sirius' chest, pushing him slightly away and taking his breath away. It gives him enough space for him to reach his aching cock with his foot, uncaring as the fabric of his sock gets wet with precum. “And why is that?”

“Because—Ah! Because you're my master,” Sirius moans.

“That’s right,” Harry praises him. “Only for me.” He lifts up his other leg as he speaks, and holding onto the backrest of the couch for balance, he takes hold of Sirius’ cock with his two feet, beginning to jerk it earnestly.

“Only you, Harry!” Sirius cries out, fucking the space between Harry's soles, his body shaking with pleasure. “Only for you, I swear, I solemnly swear!”

He's not using any kind of lubricant, but soon enough his soles are slippery with precum, Sirius produces buckets of it, cums even more than that. It gets so messy sometimes, but Harry's come to love it, the feeling of it, warm on his skin, burning hot inside him, overwhelming in his throat.

“Harry!” Sirius moans. He sounds so desperate, it makes something in Harry want to tease him more and more, but instead he presses his feet together even harder, giving him a tighter space to fuck.

“Hnnngh, he groans, hips faltering as he thrusts upwards recklessly. “Harry, I'm so close, please, please, please.”

How can he deny his pet when he begs so prettily? “Cum for me Sirius,” he says, his own voice affected by the hot air around them. “Cum now .”

“Uwaaahhhh!” Sirius cries out one final time, his cock pulsating as it releases his load. Rope after rope of cum spill over Harry's clothed feet, covering the fabric with sticky, white spent. Sirius whines at the sight, visibly shaking as he continues to experience orgasm.

Harry helps him ride it out by rubbing his feet against his reddened cock, smiling to himself as Sirius comes undone before his eyes, his breath coming in pants and his eyes half closed in pleasure.

“Hnnnn,” he whines once it passes, but Harry isn't done with him.

“Look at the mess you made, pet,” he reminds him by moving his foot upwards. “Aren't you going to clean it up?”

Sirius' eyes are dark, hazy with desire, and without any hesitation he takes hold of Harry's ankle and lifts one foot until it’s level with his face, licking a long stripe on the underside, lapping at the cum that covers it.

Harry's cock twitches inside his shorts, so he moves his hand inside them, taking a hold of himself. He slowly wanks his cock as Sirius cleans his feet with his tongue, sparing no part of his clothed legs. When he's done, he's out of breath, looking at Harry with what can only be described as hunger .

“Again?” the boy asks, hopeful.

“Harry…” Sirius whines, his still hard cock throbbing between his legs. Harry himself is in a similar state, his erection starting to hurt.

“Take me to bed, pet.”

And Sirius does. He's strong enough to lift Harry up like he weighs nothing, and he uses that to his advantage as he carries him up bridal style all the way up to the master's bedroom. Harry's room.

He walks proudly naked across the house. Nudity has not bothered him since he turned back into a human, and Harry has come to appreciate the sight of his godfather's fit body too much to make him put clothes on. There's no one else in the house to complain about it except for Kreacher, but really, Kreacher complains about everything Sirius does.

His cock stands as proud as the man himself, and Harry lazily plays with it as he's carried around like a precious treasure.

Soon, they reach his room, and with the utmost care, Sirius places him on top of the mattress, closing the sheer curtains around them.

The action activates the enchantments on the ceiling of the canopy, covering the boy and the man with magic starlight.

“You're beautiful,” Sirius says, holding himself on top of Harry with his arms. His voice is filled with awe, like he can't believe the sight in front of him.

Harry turns his face away, still unused to being praised, but Sirius uses a finger to delicately move his face until their eyes meet again.

“Don't look away,” the animagus begs. “Just look at me, please?”

“Sirius,” Harry whispers, slightly choked up. He raises his hands and puts them against his godfather's neck, dragging him into a soft kiss that quickly turns heated. Sirius pushes his tongue into his mouth and he sucks it eagerly, closing his eyes to enhance the sensation.

Kissing Sirius is never the same twice. Sometimes it's chaste, and hesitating, like he knows he's doing something he shouldn't, other times it's wild and frantic, almost animal and desperate, but this time his lips feel like pure love.

It's scary.

When they separate, Harry motions for Sirius to lie down, and when he does, he climbs on top of him, shimming out of his clothes as he does so.

He sits on his lap and presses their erections together. Sirius is so big he dwarfs him in both size and girth.

“So cute,” he hears the man whisper, but decides to ignore it. This time. Instead he wraps both his hands around their cocks and ever so slowly starts moving them up and down.

It's hard to get a good hold of them, his hands are small, just like the rest of him, and Sirius is as big as the men he's seen in those magazines Fred and George tried to keep hidden from him and Ron.

He somehow manages it, and both he and Sirius let out appreciative moans. His godfather's hands move to his waist, his fingernail digging into Harry's soft skin.

“You like that?” he asks, but his voice is too breathy for the cocky tone he wanted to give.

Sirius nods sharply. “I love it, Prongslet. You're so good to me, my master, so good.”

Harry meowls, the praise turning into heat in his tummy. “Good,” he says breathlessly. “Good.”

Harry doesn't last much longer, his orgasm has him shaking from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes and letting out a high pitched cry. His cock twitches one, two, three times as he covers Sirius' cock with his cum, and once he manages to get his breath back he uses the slippery substance to wank his godfather faster.

“Mmnnnn!” Sirius moans as he has his second orgasm of the day, spilling all over his own hairy chest.

Harry doesn't stop wanking him until he hisses in pain, squeezing every drop of pleasure he can from him, and then, after it's over, he collapses over him. Uncaring of the mess between them.

Neither of them says anything for a long while, they just cuddle in silence, Sirius’s arms hugging Harry's tiny body tightly while the boy burrows himself in the space between his neck and shoulder, dropping small kisses and a couple of bites here and there. 

“I'm a terrible godfather,” Sirius says, his broken voice breaking the silence.

Harry cuddles him harder, but doesn't correct him. He knows Sirius won't hear it right now. They've had this argument before. “You're the only godfather I want,” he says instead, knowing it is the right choice when the older man relaxes ever so slightly. 

It doesn't stop the man from crying, however, so Harry does his best to comfort him by kissing whatever skin he has available.

Soon, Sirius exhausts himself, and Harry moves upwards to look at his tear stained face.

He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him sometimes, and Harry wonders if he should be more guilty that he doesn't ever want this to change.

Sirius is his.

His, his, his.

He wants him in every way he can have him, even if it causes him pain.

He's a horrible person.

Harry licks the tears clear off his godfather's face. “I love you, Sirius,” he whispers to the sleeping man. “I love you.”

Chapter Text

Harry smiles as the door to the Prefect’s bathroom opens without a hitch.

“I told you,” he whispers to the dog next to him, making sure both of them are covered by his cloak before entering the room. “Diggory’s not a liar, he wouldn't have set Neville up with a wrong password.”

The dog only woofs softly as he follows him inside, his footsteps light in the dead quiet of night.

It's been hard finding time to spend alone with his pet lately. Ever since the year started and the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament was given, Harry knew that they had to keep their guard up. The castle filled with almost twice as many students, a Death Eater as headmaster for one of the foreign schools, bloody Mad-Eye Moody as the new DADA professor, it's pure luck that they haven't been discovered.

For those reasons and more he's thankful that Neville can't keep a secret to save his life. As a fourth year Harry would usually have no access to such an extravagant bathroom like this one, but a slip of the Boy-Who-Lived’s tongue was all he needed to learn the password to what can only be referred to as a miniature spa.

“Do you know how to work this thing?” Harry asks as he eyes the enormous bathtub, more of a pool, really. There are many taps on the side, and shelves full of jars and bottles with different bath salts, soaps, shampoos, essences, and assorted potions, more than Harry has seen in his life, let alone used.

“Yup. I spent a day or two here back in my time,” Sirius says, drawing Harry's attention as me moves to turn on a few different taps and empty a few jars and bottles in the bathtub.

“Were you a prefect?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

Sirius snorts. “Nah, never made it, but Moony was one, and he was a sucker for my puppy eyes, got the password from him every term without fail,” he says fondly as he takes off his shirt. He doesn’t really stop talking, but the words stop reaching Harry’s eras.

He's now too busy staring .

Usually, when Sirius turns back into his human form he takes the time to stretch out his limbs and crack his neck. Harry tends to find the ritual amusing, but what pools in his stomach as he watches him this time is something else.

His godfather is truly a sight for sore eyes, made of long and strong limbs, broad shoulders and a small waist. He's not really that hairy, as he loves grooming himself too much to let a bush grow, but he still has some hair in his chest and armpits, along with a happy trail that Harry really wants to lick right now, that's not even mentioning the many tattoos that cover his skin. All that is topped with a handsome aristocratic face and hair so ridiculously soft it makes Harry jealous.

He could probably have anyone he wants, and yet Harry is the one that holds his leash, that owns him. He's a really lucky boy, he realises.

Sirius moves to take off his pants and Harry can't keep his eyes off his perfect buttocks, remembering the feeling of them in his hands, the way they bounce when they're spanked, the stretchy hole they hide between them. 

From the moment he started puberty Harry’s been wondering if Sirius just happens to be his natural type, or if his type has been shaped by this man from the moment that sexual attraction was a factor in his mind.

Sex, attraction, love, family, ownership, for Harry all of them are so intrinsically tied to Sirius they cannot be separated from one another. In that way Sirius owns him, too. Just as much as Harry does him.

At that moment the man in his mind turns to look in his direction and catches him staring, and like the peacock he is, he turns around with a smirk to give him a full view of his front, too.

“Like what you see?” Sirius asks, swaying his hips and making his soft cock swing with each movement. Even now, flaccid as it is, it's bigger than any other he's seen when he sneaks peeks in the quidditch shower room. It's a beautiful cock, down to the pink head and the runic tattoos that cover the shaft, as well the two heavy balls that hang low underneath them.

The sight is a little hypnotic, if he's being honest. He imagines this is what Ron felt when he almost jumped over the rails of the quidditch world cup’s stadium for a chance to impress the veelas.

Even better, because while Ron had no hope of even getting close to those women, Harry is allowed to touch, he's allowed to taste, hell, if he really wanted to he could forbid Sirius from touching himself and let Harry be the only person to ever handle his cock and his godfather would obey.

“Yes, I love it,” he says, instead of voicing those thoughts, although the desire in his tone is as naked as the man in front of him. “Every inch of it, you're a piece of art, Sirius.”

His pet blushes with embarrassment and looks away for a moment, so Harry decides not to push further at the moment. He starts taking off his own clothes, folding them neatly in a pile until just like his godfather, he's as naked as the day he was born.

He doesn't even notice that he has an audience too until he turns around and catches Sirius staring with his mouth slightly open. He feels his face heating up.

“Like what you see?” he asks, mimicking his earlier words.

Sirius just swallows hard and nods, seemingly at a loss for words.

Harry chuckles. “Let's get in.”

Sirius nods once again, offering a hand to help him get inside the pool before following him. 

“Ahhhh,” he sighs as soon as his body is submerged. The water is at the perfect temperature, almost scalding hot. After ten years taking only cold showers and baths with Dudley's leftover water, this is just how Harry likes it.

He puts his glasses aside and wets his face and hair, taking a deep breath to take in the aroma of all the potions Sirius mixed in the water.

“Smells good,” he says dreamily. “What is it?”

“Some sandalwood, a little bit of bergamot…”

“I like it,” he says, holding himself back from adding an ‘ It reminds me of you.’

“I knew you would,” Sirius replies softly.

Harry makes his way towards him, kissing him on the cheek before settling himself on his lap, his back flush against the older man's chest. “Thank you,” he tells him.

“You're welcome,” he replies, circling his torso with his arms.

It feels like heaven, being held with nothing between them, he could easily fall asleep in Sirius' arms, but he also doesn't want to waste the precious moments they have by falling asleep.

“Did you ever have a ball when you were at school?” With the Yule Ball getting closer by the day, he keeps debating if he should actually attend or just skip the whole thing and go back to Grimmauld's Place for the holidays. All of his friends are going, and he's a little curious about the event, but the fact that Sirius won't be able to be there with him is stopping him from just outright choosing to stay.

“Nah,” Sirius replies. “Went to a lot of them during the summers, though.”

“Really?” he asks, turning his face upwards to get a glimpse of his face.

Sirius pinches Harry’s nose and smirks. “A pureblood’s calendar is always full, when it wasn't a ball, it was a function, or a gala, or a soiree. They were more boring than Binns’ lessons, full of uppity purebloods who couldn't wait to suck up to each other the whole night. Mum used to drag me by the ear to the floo whenever I tried to get out of them.”

“Oh,” Harry says, a little disappointed. “What about your dad? you don't talk much about him.”

Sirius bites his lower lip before answering. “I guess that's because there's nothing much to say.” he says, his bitter expression betraying his calm tone. “He let mum do whatever she wanted with me and Reggie, never stepped in or tried to comfort us when we were being punished.”

Harry's first clenches, angered on his behalf.

“I don't think he cared much about us, or about mum. They had an arranged marriage, you know? To keep the family line pure, or some other drivel. He died when I was sixteen, and that was the year I finally ran away to your dad's house. It was when mum was talking to my brother about You-Know-Who and said that dad would approve of him.”

“Oh?”

Sirius nodded. “The thing is, I realised that I had never heard him speaking about politics at all. I don't know if he cared about blood purity, or the war, or anything. I didn't know the man at all because he just went with the flow, never making waves. I decided that I didn't want a life like his, where I just floated along the path that was expected of me and then faded away, and that was exactly where I was heading if I kept just sucking it up and staying in that house.”

Harry takes a moment to think about it, trying to picture it in his mind. Sirius in an arranged marriage that he hates but goes through with anyway, him taking the Black Lordship and his family's Wizengamot seat and despising every second of it. Every inaction chipping away pieces of him until he stops being the man that he loves.

“I'm glad you got out,” Harry admits. “And that you got me out of the Dursleys’, too.”

“I wish I could have done it sooner,” Sirius says, his voice pained. “I hated not being able to help much when I was trapped as a dog.”

“You helped a lot,” Harry reassures him, closing his eyes when Sirius lifts a hand to move a strand of hair out of his face. “You were my only friend, and you stopped Uncle Vernon from hurting me the one time that mattered.”

Sirius tightens his hold on him, and Harry can feel his tension as he buries his face in the space between Harry's neck and shoulder. Sirius hums. “Does that mean we can go back there and kill him?”

Harry snorts. “Didn't you have enough of that with Petti—” Sirius' growl stops him from saying his name. “with him? Or did you have a taste of blood and realised you liked it a bit  too much?”

Sirius doesn't reply immediately, and it makes Harry pause.

“You did, didn't you?” the boy asks at a quieter volume.

“He hurt you,” he says, as if that were enough explanation, his voice little more than a snarl. It makes the air around him feel colder for a second, wilder. “I hate that I can't hurt him back, every minute he stays alive is another opportunity he has to somehow hurt you again. I know it doesn't make sense, but he's a danger. He shouldn't be allowed to breathe, I want to rip him apart limb by limb and—” Harry gives his leg a firm slap, and  his mouth quickly shuts with a loud click, making the dangerous aura around him recede ever so slightly.

“Sorry, I kinda started unravelling there,” Sirius says sheepishly.

Harry hums, unconcerned.

It happens sometimes, the Black Family Madness is infamous in the Wizarding World, and not even Sirius has been spared of it, his time as a dog didn't help either, so sometimes he has spikes of anger like this one, some other times he gets randy like a bitch in heat, or so depressed he's unable to leave the bed in the morning.

Harry's lucky that he can influence him even a little bit through their bond. He can calm him down when he gets paranoid, can cheer him up when he has little energy, can pull him back when he goes too far, like he almost did right now.

“So my puppy has graduated into a guard dog, now?” Harry asks him mischievously. “Anyone else you want to maul, pet?”

Sirius snorts. “Cissy's kid looks at you way too often,” he says offhandedly, but Harry can feel an inkling of truth in the remark.

It makes him pause.

“Draco Malfoy? The Slytherin prat? He’s harmless,” he says.

Sirius huffs, and the action makes Harry bounce on his lap.  “He's a blood purist!”

“Oh, for sure, I bet if me or—I don't know, Colin Creevey, were the Boy-Who-Lived he would hate us for killing Voldemort, but since Neville's a pureblood he still buys into all the propaganda about him.”

“Exactly!”

Harry snorts. “This wouldn't have anything to do with him asking me to be his date for the ball, would it? Because I'm pretty sure that's just a ploy to get me to give him my secret to catching the snitch every game.”

“He’s trying to use you!”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I could leash him if you're that worried about him.”

“What!?”

Harry smirks to himself, continuing to rile him up  “He gives me those vibes, you know? Like he just needs someone to give him a good spanking and then he'll behave.”

Sirius actually growls behind him. “Don't,” he warns, voice dripping with jealousy. “He's just a stupid boy, you can do so much better.”

“We're the same age, he and I. Aren't we supposed to be dumb kids?” 

He can hear the man's teeth grinding. “You're not a dumb kid.”

Harry smiles. “I don't know… sneaking out in the middle of the night to get naked with a wanted man… that sounds pretty stupid of me.”

Sirius scowls. “I'd never hurt you .”

Harry's heart softens, but he doesn't want to stop teasing him just yet. “I know you wouldn't. You're my good boy, aren’t you? My sweet pet.”

“Not just a pet, I'm your familiar,” Sirius mutters indignantly, his face slightly blushed.

Familiar. Ever since they learned that word from a curious Beauxbatons student, Sirius has been obsessed with it. Apparently the boy had magesight, a rare ability that allowed him to see the threads of magic linking them together. Not even Sirius knew much about that kind of bond, but some discreet questions to Hermione and a research session later they realised that what they have might be in fact just that.

“Pet, familiar, godfather, what matters is that you're mine, isn't that right?” Harry asks, turning around until he's straddling Sirius' naked lap. Under his bum, the man's cock twitches with interest. “My randy dog.”

“Harry…” Sirius practically purrs.

“You don't want me going to anyone else for this, do you?” Sirius bares his teeth at him for half a second, his animal instincts taking over in the face of his jealousy. It makes Harry's heart beat so fast it hurts. He smirks. “So be good for me and let me ride that fat cock of yours until I can't even think of anyone else.”

Sirius quickly stretches out his wand arm and (in an impressive feat of wandless magic) summons a bottle from the back of one of the shelves.

“Here,” he says, looking frantic. “Lube.”

“Good boy,” Harry praises him, opening the bottle and covering his fingers in the slippery substance. “Hands behind your head.”

Sirius looks incredibly frustrated, but he still obeys, his hands twitching as he does. Harry knows he wants to touch him, wants to dig his fingernails into his flesh and let everyone know that Harry already has someone, and the truth is Harry would love nothing more than that. He would even let him draw blood with his claws if he didn't know the man would hate himself for it the next morning.

The pose Sirius adopted makes it so that his biceps are flexed and his armpits are exposed. It's a sight so erotic it draws a moan out of Harry's mouth, making him more eager to open himself and take him inside. His slippery fingers make quick progress once he moves one hand behind his back to find his opening, his rim offers no resistance against the first finger, and the second enters with little effort.

“Harry,” Sirius begs, trembling as he maintains his position.

The teenager pays him no mind, he just fingers himself slowly, stretching his walls and leaning  forward until his face is right in front of one of his armpits. With his height,  the top half of Sirius' body remains mostly dry, so when Harry inhales, he gets the full effect of his godfather's musk.

“Fuck,” he curses, feeling his hole clench around his fingers and his untouched cock twitch. “Love the way you smell.”

“Please, please, please,” Sirius mutters to himself, biting his lower lip so hard Harry's afraid he'll draw blood.

“None of that,” Harry chastises him. “Does my puppy need a chewy toy?”

Sirius frowns, but his face is undeniably flushed, so Harry uses his free hand to invade his mouth, letting him lick and suck his fingers while Harry buries his face in his armpit and his other hand’s fingers in his hole.

It's an intoxicating aroma, it makes his head dizzy, but he doesn't want to pull away, he wants even more, so he takes a final long breath and licks a broad stripe on Sirius' pit, savouring the salty flavour of sweat and musk.

“Merlin and Morgana,” Sirius swears out loud around his fingers, along with some other curses beneath his breath. “Harry, I'm begging you here.”

Harry gives him a dopey smile, high on his scent, and decides that enough is enough.

He takes Sirius' erection in his hand, hot even under the water, and descends slowly, taking the head into his small opening. He moves at a glacial pace, his soft inner walls eagerly taking in Sirius' thickness.

“Harry,” Sirius whines, continuing to suck Harry’s fingers desperately, dripping saliva all over himself. 

He doesn't move, he knows better than to do so without Harry's command. He's so big it's a struggle even when they take their time, Harry's body is small, after all, but like this, with so minimal prep, one wrong move could have Harry howling in pain.

The job falls onto Harry's hands, he has to sink himself inch by inch into the girthy cock, feeling every vein, every twitch, every pulse as he does.

"Sirius,” he meowls in pleasure, his own cock twitching happily once he feels the shaft press against his prostate. “You’re so big.”

He can feel his pet's pride not only  through their bond, but also by the way he sinks his teeth in Harry’s fingers before soothing the pain with his tongue.

“So good for me,” he continues as he takes even more of his length. “Only you can fill me like this, my good pet, my familiar .”

“Mmnnnn,” the man moans against his flesh, his eyes darkened by lust as he looks at Harry.

He imagines he looks obscene, the way something so big fits inside something so small, and yet, here he is, his lithe body somehow making way to let Sirius in until his cock is buried all the way down to the hilt. 

Sirius lets out a howl. “Can I move? Harry?”

He takes his time to answer, getting reacquainted with the feeling of being split open by his thick cock. It's gotten easier over the years, but even now it's just this close to being overwhelming.

“Sirius,” he pants, his now free hands planted firmly on his shoulders to support himself while his forehead rests against his godfather's. 

They make eye contact, and this more than anything manages to make Harry blush. He loves Sirius' grey eyes, always has, and having them so close makes his heart drum so fast he feels like it's about to escape from his chest.

“Fuck me,” he demands.

Like a switch being flipped, Sirius' demeanour changes in an instant. Suddenly, Harry is being lifted off the water and being bounced on the man's cock like he weighs nothing.

“Ahh!” he cries out, wrapping his legs against Sirius' waist for support, his fingers digging crescent moon shapes onto his broad back.

“Fuck,” Sirius curses as he systematically fucks him into next week, hitting Harry's prostate with every single thrust, like he's a sex machine built specifically to pleasure his young master.

Harry's resulting moans echo loudly on the ceramic walls, and the splashing noises that accompany them are downright obscene.

“So good,” Sirius groans, licking Harry's neck as he continues to use his hole. “So perfect, my master, my owner, my Harry.”

Harry's resulting whine is so pathetic he has to close his eyes to hide from the world. He doesn't know if Sirius knows the effect his words have on him, but right now he's so happy he could die.

Every thrust elevates him to pleasure previously unknown, a revelation only he is privy to. He doesn’t know how many people have had Sirius like this before him, but he really feels like thanking them if they taught him to fuck the way he does.

The position keeps his cock trapped between their stomachs, rubbing against Sirius’ abs every time he’s bounced up and down on the man’s rod. The stimulation on the front and back at the same time makes him whine and moan unabashedly.

It doesn't take him long to cum like this, Sirius is an expert on pleasuring his body, and he knows there's one thing that never fails to push him over the edge.

“Can I cum inside?” his godfather begs him, his movements never faltering despite the shaking of his body. “Harry, can I, please?”

Yes, yes yes, he wants nothing more than that. “Fill me up!” he cries out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels the man do just that.

Sirius' cock pulsates like it has a heartbeat of its own as it spills its cum inside Harry's hole. It's so hot Harry feels like he's about to die. Le petit mort, Sirius would joke, but it's not untrue, his body spasms as the feeling of being filled snaps his composure like a twig, his weeping cock covering the space between their stomachs with his seed while his hole clenches and unclenches in an attempt to milk every drop of cum from his godfather's cock.

Sirius fucks him through his orgasm, brings him to near tears with every press against his prostate in this sensitive state. Harry can only cling to him as tight as he can while the man fucks him, can only bite his shoulder to stop himself from letting out genuinely embarrassing sounds.

Once their orgasms pass Harry presses his hand against his lower stomach. “So full,” he whispers to himself, although he knows Sirius can hear him with his doglike ears. 

Sirius sits down once again, somehow managing to not pull out of Harry's hole. He's thankful for it, he hates the feeling of being empty after Sirius breeds him.

The water is somehow still hot after all this time, an enchantment of some sort, Harry suspects, but he spends no more time thinking about it. His brain is mush at the moment, preoccupied only with the feeling of Sirius' strong arms around him and the hit seed inside his channel.

Harry almost dozes off when Sirius starts washing his hair, the feeling of his digits against his scalp so relaxing his body feels like jelly. The man also takes the opportunity to finally wet his upper half, using products Harry can't even name for his own mane.

Once they're done a comfortable silence spreads around them, and when Harry takes a good look at his pet, he can't stop himself from asking for what he needs.

“Kiss me,” he begs weakly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's more than enough, not even a second later his mouth is being attacked by Sirius’, who looks reinvigorated by his plea.

He kisses Harry like this is his last chance, as if Harry weren't always desperate to feel his pet's lips against his. As if Harry hasn't been in love with him from the second he figured out what love is.

He knows Sirius doesn't think so, that in his mind Harry feels nothing more than a childish crush, and telling him otherwise right now would only be met with disbelief. The animagus thinks he's taking advantage of Harry, his poor innocent godson who he corrupted like the big bad man he is.

And maybe he won't admit he loves Harry back, not the way lovers do, but Harry knows he does. He shows him every day that he follows his words like they're gospel, when he scowls at anyone that gets too close to him, when he gets jealous of other teens that could never hold a candle to him.

“Don't kiss anyone else,” Sirius asks with a ragged voice when they finally pull apart. “You have me, kiss me instead.”

Harry doesn't reply, instead, he shows Sirius by pulling him back into yet another kiss, both of their mouths greedy as they suck and bite and lick every corner they can. 

Neither of them pulls apart until they're out of breath, and even then their tongues remain connected by a single string of saliva as they pant to regain their breaths.

If this is the closest he'll ever get to a romantic ‘I love you’ he'll take it, he'll grab it with both of his greedy hands and never let go of it.

“Stupid mutt,” Harry pants. “I only want you. No one else comes close.”

“Good,” Sirius says.

“Good,” Harry repeats, closing his eyes and resting his head on Sirius' chest.

Forget the Yule Ball, he wishes this night would never end.

Chapter Text

“He did what!?” Harry asks as soon as Neville finishes speaking.

The two of them, along with Sirius, Hermione, and Ron are in the sixth year boys’ dorm room after one of Neville's meetings with Dumbledore. Ever since the year started they've become more and more common, and after every one of them the four teens (and the dog) reconvene like this to hear whatever new information the Headmaster shared with his lone student.

He's not supposed to, but after his parents were kidnapped and killed last year under The Order's watch, the Boy-Who-Lived isn't very inclined to follow his every order to the letter anymore.

Good, Harry (whose number of trusted adults is in the single digits) thinks.

“He split his soul,” Neville repeats in a sombre tone. “Dumbledore thinks there are seven pieces,” he speaks calmly, but his shaking hands give his real state of mind away.

Ron gawks. “That's…”

“An abomination,” Harry finishes for him, disgust clear in his expression.

Now, Harry wouldn't say that out of the people in the room he knows the most about dark magic, or even soul magic. Not with Neville who is receiving lessons from Dumbledore himself, or with Hermione who is a walking encyclopaedia of all things magic, or with Sirius who grew up in Grimmauld's Place as the heir of a dark family. No, he wouldn't say he knows the most about the subject.

But he would think it.

As much as they’re putting their faith in Dumbledore, Harry knows that the man is as light as they come, and from what Neville's let out, he's been teaching him more about Voldemort's life than about magic to use to defeat him. Hermione may be smart, but as a muggleborn, there's only so much knowledge about obscure subjects she'll be able to find by herself. Sirius himself has admitted that he's forgotten most things he was taught by his family, and he has no real intention of remembering them, but Harry? Harry has gone deep .

Ever since Voldemort came back to life two years ago Harry's been preparing, learning everything he can to protect not only himself, but also Sirius and his friends. His godfather thinks he's only learning to duel from him, but Harry hasn't told him about the sleepless nights pouring over cursed books in the Black Library, about learning wandless magic so he won't be found out if he casts anything dark or illegal that way, about talking to Kreacher about Regulus' time with the Death Eaters, taking every piece of information the elf delivers and thinking of ways to use it against them.

And from everything he's learnt, messing around with soul magic the way Voldemort's done is beyond dark. It's insane.

Harry's own familiar bond with Sirius is a form of soul magic, and even that is frowned upon in the modern days for the effects it has on the body. An unhealthy level of attachment and risk of death for both of them if one is mortally wounded, the melding of their minds, they're bound at their very core, their essence part of each other, and to separate them would be cruel, with potentially deadly consequences. He can only imagine what the consequences of ripping apart your own soul are.

It's a wonder Voldemort is even sane, but then again, is he?

“Ugh,” Harry says, burying his face in his hands. “My head hurts.”

Sirius whines in his lap, and Hermione pats him on the back.

“Did Dumbledore say what he thinks the horcruxes are?” she asks.

Neville bites his lower lip. “Remember the diary back in second year?”

Ron pales. “Wait… Do you mean Ginny was possessed by a piece of You-Know-Who’s actual soul!?”

Neville grimaces, but nods as confirmation. “He also found a ring that belonged to his family, but he managed to destroy that one by himself, and I saw a memory of a locket and a cup he stole from a witch in Borgin and Burkes back in the 60’s.”

“A cup and a locket?” Ron asks. “Bit random, isn't it?”

Neville shakes his head. “The locket used to belong to Salazar Slytherin, and the cup to Helga Hufflepuff, he was after important artefacts, or at least that's what Dumbledore thinks,” he mutters.

Harry doesn't listen much after that.

Something is falling into place in his mind.

“Woof?” Sirius barks at him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Harry smiles and pets him, trying to send a calm reassurance through their bond.

“Sorry, Nev,” he says, interrupting the boy as he speaks. “What did you say the locket looked like? and the cup?” he adds as an afterthought.

“Oh, the locket is gold with a snake made out of emeralds in the shape of an S right on the front, and the cup has a carved badger and thin handles. Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking—He was obsessed with Hogwarts, wasn't he?” It's the first thing that comes to his mind. “Maybe he hid it somewhere in the castle? Somewhere not many people know.”

Hermione perks up. “Like the Chamber of Secrets!”

Neville thinks about it. “I don't think so, there wasn't any place for him to hide something like that in there.”

“Oh,” she says, dejected.

“What about the Room of Requirements?” Ron asks.

“Malfoy's mission,” Neville whispers, eyes open wide.

Hermione and Ron both groan, but Harry quickly latches onto it. “Do you think he could have sent him to retrieve one of them?” he asks.

Ron and Hermione trade looks, before finally conceding. “It’s possible.”

“Then we ought to check it out, don't we?”

Neville nods enthusiastically. “We'll need to go there as soon as he leaves, then. Do you still have the map, Harry?”

“I never leave without it,” he replies. Initially the twins gave it to Neville after he saved their sister from the Chamber of Secrets, but after learning about the marauders, he passed it on to Harry, who never let go of it. He can't have someone else taking it and discovering Sirius, after all.

He quickly pulls it out of his pocket, thankful that animals’ names don't show up on the artefact, and just like every other time he’s checked today, Malfoy’s name doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the map.

Harry’s and Neville’s eyes meet over the map.

“Well, there goes our weekend,” Ron moans.

They decide to take turns keeping watch over the room and exploring it when it’s empty, which isn’t very often, seeing as Malfoy only seems to leave when he needs to eat or when it’s time to go to bed, and even then, it’s not a sure thing.

The blond Slytherin keeps getting thinner by the day, his face becoming gaunt and his expression grim. Really, Harry doesn't understand how Ron and Hermione can't see that there's something glaringly wrong with him. Thankfully Neville sees it too, so the two of them take more shifts than their friends.

“You’re going to tell me what you’re actually planning anytime soon?” Sirius asks during one of Harry’s turns. They're walking around the room of lost things while Malfoy is on the hospital wing after passing out during lunch.

(Harry may or may have not put one of the twins’ knock-out candies in his drink.)

“Nope,” he replies to Sirius’ question, making sure to pop the ‘p’ in the word to sound as obnoxious as possible.

His godfather huffs, kicking a stray crystal ball that lies broken on the ground.

“You know, we're not supposed to keep secrets from each other,” he pouts. “You used to tell me stuff. I guess you're too grown up now for this old dog.”

Harry snorts, turning around on the ball of his feet. “Is my puppy feeling needy?” he asks, placing a hand on Sirius' chest.

Sirius looks away. “I don't like that you're keeping secrets,” he mutters. “You're the only person I can talk to, and I don't like that you're hiding something, it feels like you're leaving me behind.”

Harry's heart clenches at the admission. He's been suspecting Sirius feels like that for a while, but making his godfather talk about feelings is like pulling teeth. It's part of the reason he's here today. He plans to do something about it. He'll make Sirius happy at any cost.

“I would never abandon you,” he promises him, pushing against the older man's chest. He doesn't use any real force, but Sirius still moves backwards like Harry wants him to. They move until his back is pressed against a wall and Harry is trapping him with an arm on each side of his torso.

“You're mine , and I don't plan on letting you go.” Sirius gasps at his declaration, and then again when Harry rips open his shirt, sending the buttons flying away.

“That's not what I—Ah!” Sirius moans as Harry moves to suck a love bite into his abs, still too short to reach his neck. “I'm just—Harry!”

“I have a plan,” Harry admits, licking down his pet's chiselled stomach until he's met with a metal buckle that he then starts to undo. “But it won't hurt us, or our friends, You’ll just have to be patient. Can you do that for me, pet?”

“You’re trying to distract me,” Sirius says, immediately catching onto his game.

Harry just shrugs, kneeling down and taking his fat cock out of his trousers as he licks the spongy head. “Is it working?”

“You little—Yes!” he cries when Harry wraps his lips around it.

“Good,” Harry says around his length, right as he starts moving, one hand caressing his thigh while the other massages his balls. 

It’s hard to take him in, he has to keep his jaw wide open to fit the thickest part of his shaft without his teeth scraping it, but at least he’s managed to rid himself of his gag reflex over the years, something that comes really in handy when he wants to take him all the way down to the hilt like right now.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Sirius curses louder the deeper Harry takes him, holding onto his messy hair but not pushing him further than he is. Harry enjoys the contact, the way his fingernails scrap against his scalp, the slight tugs on his hair when Sirius clenches his fist. 

“Mmmnn” Harry moans.

He can’t do much with his mouth like this, full to the brim, can only bob his head up and down and suck to bring his pet pleasure, swallowing around it whenever he feels drops of precum that would otherwise spill out. Moving his tongue or even finding a chance to breathe is difficult, but Harry loves it. Loves the way Sirius barely fits in his mouth, forcing him to make an effort to get it all in, loves the warmth his cock radiates, loves the feeling of lightheadedness he gets from it, not enough to make him pass out but enough to make him feel dizzy. Even when he breathes, his nose is buried in Sirius’ dark pubes, his balls resting on Harry's chin. Like that, his manly scent goes all the way down to Harry’s own erection, pitching a tent in his trousers.

When he pulls away, he does so with a moan, mirroring Sirius’ own, and he takes a deep breath while bathing the balls in front of his face with his tongue. As he regains his bearing, he uses his hand to wank Sirius, the spit all over his cock making wet erotic sounds that only incentivize him more.

He knows his face is covered in his own saliva, and his voice is probably a mess, but he still delivers with confidence the offer he's been planning on ever since he unbuckled Sirius' trousers.

“Now,” Harry says. “I can suck you off until you cum down my throat and then I’ll tell you about my plan. Or…” He takes one finger into his mouth and sucks on it until it’s dripping wet.

“Or?” Sirius asks with a gulp, his eyes never leaving Harry's mouth.

Harry smirks, and moves his hand behind Sirius, slightly pressing his digit in until it slips right past the ring of muscle and into his hole. “Or.” he repeats, “you can trust me, and I’ll bend you over and fuck you right here until you can’t think any silly thoughts anymore.”

Sirius gasps, pressing back against the intrusion in his behind. “You’re evil,” he hisses.

Harry takes him into his mouth, sucking him a couple of times before pulling right back with a loud ‘pop.’ “So, what will it be?”

Sirius closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Fuck me,” he begs.

Harry smiles. “I will,” he says, “but first.” He takes Sirius' in his mouth once again, all the way down to the base, and then back again.

“Oh, fuck!” Sirius moans, and Harry starts bobbing his head up and down, sucking on the head and licking the shaft with every pass.

Harry hums around him, delighted to see Sirius enjoying himself, he doesn't even move to touch himself, saving his own load for when he's balls deep inside him.

It seems backwards, with him being the teenager and Sirius being the one on his late thirties, but his godfather can go round after round if given the chance, and Harry likes giving him the chance, taking and taking until his pet is shaking from oversensitivity and begging him for more and to stop at the same time.

“Merlin, Harry, that mouth of yours… I'm close, so close, can I?”

Just like that. Harry nods as he continues sucking him, pressing his finger deeper into Sirius' hole, right against his prostate.

Sirius cries out, hips buckling into Harry's mouth as shocks of pleasure run through his body. 

His head falls back and hits the wall behind him when he cums, his mouth gaping wide as he pants with pleasure. His entire body shakes as Harry swallows him down to the base, playing with his balls as they retract into his body, emptying themselves down his throat. It tastes salty, just a little bitter, and Harry gulps and swallows it all as if it were the most delicious treacle tart in a feast. 

It’s way too much to swallow it all, though, so some of it ends up escaping the corners of his mouth, leaving his face even more of a mess. Through it all, Sirius gives minute thrusts with his hips, not too much for it to be uncomfortable, but enough for Harry to feel it in his throat as his shaft displaces the copious amounts of cum it spills.

“Nnngh!” the man groans once he finally stills, his orgasm having passed already. He looks down once at Harry, who still hasn’t pulled away and lets out a soft curse. “Holy fuck, Harry. You look hot as hell.”

He pulls away from him with a slurping sound and a whine, cleaning the tears in the corners of his eyes and licking the cum dripping from his lower lip. “You liked that?”

Sirius nods eagerly, and Harry smirks, “Then you’re going to love this.”

He takes hold of Sirius’ hips and turns him around, pulling his trousers the rest of the way down until they pool on the floor and he’s facing his arse.

Well, not quite. Even as a fifteen year old, Harry looks younger than he really is, and that includes his short stature. He knows it’s a combination of several things: the malnutrition he suffered at the Dursleys, the drain on his magic that his bond with Sirius has been exerting since his childhood, genetics, but right now it’s downright annoying. In their current position, he has to push down on Sirius’ lower back until he buckles his knees enough for his arse to be at Harry’s level. Curse his long legs.

At least the view is pretty great. His arsecheeks are soft to the touch, slightly fuzzy with just barely there hair. Harry uses his hands to spread them apart, revealing the winking pucker that they hide.

He doesn’t dive in right away, first he lets temptation win over him and he smacks one cheek hard with his palm, smiling as it bounces and retains a red handprint right away.

“Ah!” Sirius moans at the hit, so Harry does it again, just as hard, but this time on his other arsecheek.

It’s not punishment, as they both enjoy it way too much for it to be that. It’s just another way of showing love in their weird relationship. Even Harry has come to learn the pleasure a little bit of pain can bring during sex, so he doesn’t hesitate as he spanks his pet, just takes in his sweet moans and whines.

The sound of the slaps is loud in the enormous room, but without anyone else in there, he can’t bring himself to care. He likes the sound his palm makes when it meets skin, and Sirius doesn’t show any signs of discomfort at anything currently happening, if the way his red cock is slowly fattening once again is any indication.

When he’s had enough of abusing Sirius’ arse, and his godfather’s cheeks are painted pink, he spreads them apart, making sure to dig his fingernails in, and leans forward until he can breathe right over Sirius’ hole.

“Harry, wait—” Sirius interrupts him. “It’s been a while... Let me get my wand and I’ll—Ohhh” he moans as Harry’s wandless spell hits him, leaving his hole nice and open, ready for the taking.

Harry licks it.

“Oh, fuck” Sirius curses. “Since when can you do that?”

Harry licks a long stripe along his hole, smiling the whole time. “Turns out Snape is way better at teaching Defence than he is at Potions.”

Sirius growls. “Don't mention bloody Snivellus while you're tongue deep in my arse.”

Harry snorts, and bites one of his cheeks instead of answering, drawing a hiss from the animagus.

He continues licking Sirius' arse until he's wet enough to slip a dry finger in, pushing it along his tongue and eagerly drinking in the resulting moans the man makes. His legs are slightly shaking with the effort of keeping himself standing and Harry rewards him by using his finger to press against his prostate.

“Ah!” he moans. ”Do that again, please,” he begs.

Harry does so happily.

A lubrication spell is a bit more complicated than he can manage, but luckily, he’s taken to carrying a vial of lubricant whenever he knows he’ll be alone with Sirius, so he easily takes it out of his robes’ pocket before coating his fingers with it.

It’s easier when they do it this way, with Sirius’ body being bigger than Harry he doesn’t have to spend as much time prepping him, but Harry likes the feeling of his walls clenching around his fingers, the velvet soft heat that seems to suck them in every time he tries to pull away.

He uses, one, then two, and three fingers to open him up, fucking him with then until he’s cursing under his breath.

“That’s—Fuck, Harry. That’s enough, please,” Sirius moans.

Harry hums. “You don’t like it when I do this? ” he asks, pressing against his prostate.

“No! I mean, yes! I want—”

Harry chuckles, pulling them out, watching enraptured as Sirius’ hole clenches around nothing. “What do you want, pet?”

“Your cock,” Sirius cries, “Please, I want it, fuck me, Harry. C’mon.“

Harry quickly stands up and undoes his trousers, pulling himself out of them. “How can I say no when you beg so sweetly?”

He covers his length with slick before pressing against the inviting hole, slapping the head against it a couple of times just to watch Sirius squirm. He doesn’t spend much time on that, though, he’s just as desperate as Sirius, probably even more, seeing as he hasn’t released yet, but he doesn’t want to show it, so he enters him slowly, as if they have all the time in the world.

They both whine as he pushes in, and for a moment a memory flashes in Harry’s mind, of Hermione saying that pets and owners often take after each other.

He's pretty sure Sirius never had anyone inside him before him, not that he's said so in many words, but Harry still clings to that knowledge with his tiny, greedy hands. Any way he can have Sirius that anyone else can't is a joy for him. That's not to say Sirius doesn't enjoy it, because he clearly does, his moans are nothing but joyous as Harry sheaths himself inside his channel, but he does wonder if their bond makes it feel better for him than it would otherwise be.

After all, Harry does love taking Sirius’ cock up his arse.

“Fuck,” a soft curse pulls him out of his thoughts, and he's embarrassed that that's how he finds out that he's bottomed out, his pelvis flush against the crease of Sirius’ marked  arse.

He pulls back slowly before pushing back in again, his eyes never leaving the place where they're connected, where Sirius' hole tries to pull him in every time he pulls back.

“Bloody hell,” Harry whispers, before deciding that enough’s enough and thrusting in hard.

He doesn't really move any faster, but now his movements carry a strength that makes Sirius shiver and bounce with every single thrust of Harry's hips. He fucks him slow and deep, determined to draw it on as long as possible.

“Hnggghh, yess!” Sirius moans.

Even if the temptation to piston in and out as fast he can is becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

“So good, Sirius,” Harry pants, his breath laboured with the task of fucking his godfather's heat.  “So tight, so perfect around my cock, you were made for this, made to take me just like this.”

Sirius' hole clenches around him, clearly appreciative of his words, and Harry doesn't let it pass. “You like that? You know I'm right, you're mine to fuck as much as I want, your hole fits my cock perfectly, after all.”

“Harry!”

“Say it, say you're mine!” he growls, beginning to up the pace of his thrusts until Sirius is releasing little “uh, uh, uh’s” every time his bum meets Harry's hips.

“Uh, uh, I'm yours!” the older man cries out, the words lighting up the invisible bond between them like a Christmas tree.

Harry can feel the magic warm against the bracelet in his hand, so he pushes with it until it materialises in the air in the shape of a leash, going all the way until it connects to Sirius' always present collar.

Harry tugs on it, drawing Sirius' head back, and that's when he begins to give him a proper fucking, drowning the sounds of his harsh breath with the loud slaps of skin against skin.

The position has to be incredibly uncomfortable for the older man, but Harry doesn’t care, and neither does Sirius, from the look of things.

His eyes are rolled to the back of his head, face flushed red and mouth wide open while his tongue hangs out, a drip of saliva runs down his chin and onto the floor, all while he moans like whore with every thrust of Harry's hips.

“Fuck, You love this, don't you?” Harry asks, tugging on his leash and redoubling his efforts.

Sirius moans, trying to nod, but unable to do it while his collar is being pulled. “Yess,” he says, his voice slightly slurred. “Love your… love your cock,” he moans out.

Harry's heart races as he hears the word love coming from Sirius' mouth, 

It's not like he's never said it before, but those times are in the context of a godfather caring for his godchild, a pet caring for his owner. What Harry wants is for Sirius to say it to him as a man, as a lover. He may be only talking about Harry's cock, or his thoughts may be muddled by lust, but Harry will take it and save it deep in his heart along with every scrap of affection—big or small—the man under him has ever given him.

“Love you,” Harry groans out. “Love the way you feel around me, love how well you take me. Love everything about you” He punctuates every sentence with a tug on the leash, delighting himself in the tears that form on the corners of his pet's eyes.

“Harry,” The older man whines, and Harry knows he's close to orgasm once again.

Harry can't deny he's close, too. Hell, he's been close from the very moment he entered him, but he wanted to hold back just for this. “Cum for me, Sirius,” he says. “Cum with me.”

It's only a couple of thrusts later that his wish comes true, Harry's hips stutter and Sirius' breath catches, and as if it were magic, the two of them cum at the same time, Harry's seed spilling deep inside Sirius' passage while the animagus covers the floor with his spent.

Both bodies shake with ecstasy, their moans filling up the air of the empty room.

Sirius' hole squeezes every single last drop of cum out of him, his walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically while his own cock twitches  untouched in the air.

“Fuuuck,” Sirius groans as Harry pulls out slowly, his gaping hole leaking onto the floor the second it stops being filled. “That always feels so weird,” he says.

Harry snorts, and helps him get up from his awkward position, before making him sit down on the floor next to him while they regain their breaths.

Neither of them speaks for a couple of moments, instead they let themselves enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking, until eventually, Sirius snorts, shaking his head.

“You know what? Fine,” he pants. “You can keep your secrets.”

Harry gives him a dopey smile, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “I knew you'd see it my way, eventually.”

Sirius shakes his head, but he's smiling, so Harry takes that as a win. “Let's go to bed, you minx. My back is killing me.”

Now it's time for Harry to snort. “Alright, then, old man.”

He decides to do it the next morning.

Harry wakes up with the sun, as he always has, and with the excuse of going to the bathroom, he leaves the dorms, going instead to the third floor, where the headmaster's office is located.

He spends a good minute or two naming random sweets to the gargoyle in front of the door, and after he says “licorice wands” it finally opens to let him inside.

Dumbledore is waiting for him when he does, and it makes Harry wonder if those passwords are real or if they're just there to buy time for the old man to prepare himself for his meetings. Smart , Harry thinks. Cannot be underestimated .

“Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise to have you here,” the headmaster says without a hint of sarcasm. “I do hope you realise how early in the morning it is, did you need help with something?”

Harry braces himself before speaking. This is probably a mistake, but it's for Sirius. If it works out it'll be worth it. If it doesn't…

Anyway, he's already come this far, might as well go for broke.

“The horcrux you're looking for. The locket,” he says, drawing Dumbledore's full attention. “I know where it is, and I want to trade for it.”

Chapter Text

Harry's legs are wrapped around Sirius' waist, his tiny arms holding firmly onto his neck while the older man gives him a deep kiss.

It's not easy, giving this kind of adult kisses. It's been a few years since they shared their first one, but the novelty of them hasn't worn off. Harry hopes it never does. He loves the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he opens his mouth and his pet's tongue enters it.

Sirius' everything is so big, and Harry is so small, even for a boy his age (he's twelve years old but still shows no signs of getting a growth spurt anytime soon.) His tongue takes up a lot of space in Harry's mouth when it enters it, but the boy still gives it his best and sucks the pink muscle when it does, moaning while Sirius' hands rub his bum.

His back is pressed against a bookcase, and something keeps digging against his side, but Harry doesn't care much about that at the moment, not when his entire front is pressed against Sirius, his cock trapped between their bodies.

“This is such a bad idea,” the boy whispers into the kiss, although he doesn't make any move to stop.

“Relax,” Sirius says, pulling away only to start licking his earlobe. “We’ll be fine.”

Harry bites his lower lip to stop his moan, not wanting to be caught like this. “The heir's still out there."

Sirius hums, but Harry knows he's not listening, not when he's as drunk with lust as he is. “We’re not muggleborns, the heir won't care about us,” he whispers his words into Harry's ear, making the boy shiver.

“Tell that to Mrs. Norris."

His godfather looks at him and Harry has to hold back a gasp. Sirius took his glasses off around the time he started kissing him, claiming they got in the way, but they're still close enough that he can make out the features in the man's face. His eyes are a stormy grey coloud, so deep that Harry could easily lose himself on them.

If he presses, Harry will probably let him do whatever he wants. He might be the one holding the leash, but the power Sirius holds over him is just as strong. He'll cave, and the next thing he'll know is that clothes will come off until they're stark naked in the middle of the forbidden section of the library. 

(Harry doesn't know what the hat was thinking offering Slytherin, he's definitely an idiot Gryffindor.)

Luckily, it doesn't come to that.

“Killjoy,” Sirius mutters after one final peck on the lips, helping him get back down until his feet are touching the floor. 

Harry tries to hide his disappointment.

It's not like he wants to deny Sirius, or even himself. He would let Sirius take him right here if there wasn't the threat of someone or something out there petrifying students left and right.

Harry looks up with a frown. He can't see his face from this far away but he thinks Sirius is pouting. “Come on,” he says in a lighthearted tone. “Let's go back to the dorms and if we're lucky they'll be empty. You can fuck me until I pass out.”

Sirius perks up a little, before the gloominess comes back. “There's no way it'll be empty this close to curfew.”

Harry smirks. “Then I guess it's a good thing that I learned how to lock the bed’s curtains and that muffling charm, right?”

Sirius takes a sharp breath. “Race you there,” he says with a grin, before turning into his animagus form and trotting away.

“Sirius, wait!” he cries out, trying to find a balance between loud enough for the dog animagus to hear him and quiet enough so that Madam Pierce won't kick him out. “You know I can't see without my glasses,” he hisses.

The dog doesn't answer, so Harry just groans and sets out to follow him into the regular section of the library, craning his neck around every corner in his search for his pet.

“Sirius,” Harry calls out, but no one answers, so he continues walking like a fool with his hands stretched out in front of him, hoping not to crash into anything, or anyone.

“Sirius?” he asks again, “C'mon, pet. It's not funny, where are you?”

Somehow he gets to the entrance of the library, where Madam Prince may or may not be giving him the stink eye, it's not like Harry can tell either way.

Still, when Harry braves talking to her, she tells him that his dog ran out with a pair of glasses hanging from his mouth, and that if she finds a single paw print anywhere in the library he'll be banned until he passes his N.E.W.T.s

“I'll keep it in mind,” Harry replies.

He's starting to feel annoyed by the time he makes it out of there. “Sirius!” he shouts into the empty hallway, only to be met with more silence.

“I swear to Merlin, when I find you…” he mutters to himself as he reaches a corner, but he never finishes his sentence, instead crashing against a black mass head on.

He falls flat into his arse and hears a sound of breaking glass as the cold floor stone digs into the finger shaped bruises Sirius' left in him just the night before. He lets out a hiss before turning to the thing he crashed into.

“What the— Sirius?” he asks from the floor, finally recognizing the shape as a big black dog and the broken glass as his glasses. “Oh, man… What's wrong?”

The animagus doesn't respond.

He doesn't even move.

Harry's heart speeds up, but his voice becomes smaller. “Sirius?”

His pet, his godfather, his best friend—Sirius doesn't even move to breathe, and when Harry touches him, his fur is stiff as a board, just like the rest of him.

He takes his hand off as if burned, and suddenly the world starts spinning around him. Harry hears a scream, but it's not until later that night, when Madam Pomfrey makes him take a potion for his raw throat, that he realises the desperate cries came from him.

He doesn't even care about the pain, or the potion’s awful taste. He doesn't care that he has classes the next day and he's awake in the middle of the night, hiding inside the hospital wing's potions cupboard, curling into himself as if he never left the Dursleys’ house.

Sirius has been petrified.

And for the first time in years, Harry is alone.

He feels like a ghost of himself the next few weeks. Neville, Ron, and Hermione try to cheer him up, but it doesn't work.

He knows they don't understand. Not one of them does.

“The cure will be done soon,” Hermione says with a gentle (pitying) tone, but Harry doesn't want ‘soon,’ he wants his pet now .

“We'll find the heir and stop him,” is what Ron tries, but even if Harry gets to strangle the life out of the heir with his own hands (and he plans on doing just that, eventually) it won't undo the damage they've caused. He doesn't know if an animagus will be affected differently by the petrification, or even the antidote, and Sirius has already spent years stuck as a dog, he doesn't need any more months, even if he's not conscious during them.

Neville doesn't really offer any words, he just holds Harry while he cries silently in the middle of the night, and for that Harry is the most thankful, but it doesn't change the reality of things. There's only so much a hug can do against the feeling of loss losing your most important person causes.

Of course, not everyone is as nice as his friends. “He’s being dramatic. It's just a dog,” he hears Seamus Finnegan whisper one night, and before he knows what he's doing he launches himself on top of the Irish boy, fists raining on his face like Dudley used to do to him.

Just a dog, he wants to scoff. That dog saved him from the Dursleys, that dog cuddled with him on cold night, that dog made that little boy that slept under the stairs stop feeling lonely, that dog gave him a home, that dog loves Harry and tells hims stories about his parents, that dog is the most loyal person Harry has, and probably will ever meet.

He gets detention for a week for attacking a fellow student, but he doesn't even blink when McGonagall tells him so. He doesn't feel guilty, doesn't feel much of anything, in fact. The throbbing black eye he got when Dean butt in trying to defend his friend doesn't even hurt.

Nothing can hurt more than the black hole in his chest that Sirius used to occupy.

He's not dead. He can still feel him through their bond, but it's not the same, it's way too still, just like the body resting in the hospital wing. Sirius was meant to be wild, always in movement, always going a million different ways at the same time. Not like this.

He needs to do something.

The library becomes his new favourite spot, he follows Hermione's example and tricks Lockhart into signing a full access pass to the restricted section, where he spends every moment of free time he has.

He doesn't spend much time with his friends anymore, not even quidditch manages to hold his attention as it is, but Hermione sits next to him sometimes while he reads obscure texts no kid his age has any business reading.

He wants to find what could have caused the petrifications, what could be done to brew the mandrake potion required faster, and when he doesn't find the answers he wants, he tries another approach.

“I'll pay for the mandrakes,” he begs the Headmaster. “They don't need to be grown at Hogwarts, do they? Just buy them somewhere else and I'll pay for them. I have the galleons, I swear.”

It's a desperate gambit, and Harry knows it, but it still hurts when he's so easily dismissed.

Dumbledore just smiles sadly at him. “My boy, I'm afraid I can't accept that,” he tells Harry, but the boy doesn't stay to hear his rubbish explanations. He doesn't want to hear whatever lies he can come up with.

Instead, he runs out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest just so he can scream himself into exhaustion, and after he's done he slumps into the ground and looks up into the night sky.

The clouds are covering the stars tonight.

He can't keep going like this.

He wants Sirius back. 

Lots of things happen before he gets what he wants, though.

More students get petrified, Hermione is one of them.

Harry, Neville, and Ron go into the Forbidden Forest and escape giant, man-eating spiders.

They—or rather, Hermione—discover the cause of the petrifications.

Ginny gets taken into the Chamber of Secrets.

Lockhart almost erases their memories.

Neville gets bitten by a giant snake and cried on by a flaming bird.

Harry stabs a diary with a fang.

They  free a house elf.

Harry passes out in a hospital bed, and when he wakes up Madam Pomfrey tells him that the potion for the petrification victims is finally done.

He’s not ashamed to admit that he cries a little bit as soon as he hears that, and then a few hours later Sirius is back and he somehow manages to cry even more.

“You stupid dog,” Harry sobs into his fur. “Don't ever leave me like that again.”

Sirius whines in his arms, and pulls away just enough to lick the tears clean off his boy's face.

“I'll keep you leashed from now on, don't think I won't.”

Sirius barks out a laugh, his tail wagging happily as Harry envelops him in another tight hug.

It's a happy ending in any way you look at it.

But it's not really the end, is it?

There's something Harry has to do.

“Do we really have to?” Sirius asks that same night while Harry walks him somewhere under the cover of his invisibility cloak, the sound of their footsteps hidden by a muffling charm.

Harry hums, tugging on his leash to stop him from crashing into a wall. “Does my puppy want to escape his punishment?” 

Sirius grimaces. “Weren't those months I spent petrified punishing enough?’

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “And how exactly was it that you got petrified again?”

Sirius smartly doesn't answer.

“That's what I thought,” Harry says, and then he takes a good look at Sirius before adding, “and don't tell me you're not excited for what I have planned. I can see you getting hard, you perv.”

Sirius smiles sheepishly. “We never made it to your bed that night.”

Harry snorts. “Alright, then. We're here,” he says, taking off the blindfold off Sirius' face.

The older man’s eyes widen when he realises that they're in an empty study room in the library. No one is supposed to have access to it after curfew, but the months they spent apart were enough for Harry to learn a few tricks of his own.

“You're a proper marauder now, aren't you?”

“Oh, pet, you have no idea.” Harry says with a grin, locking the door behind him. “Strip.”

Sirius doesn't think twice before taking off his clothes, eager to follow Harry's command. Even now he can feel the magic of their bond humming with anticipation, desperate for a connection it's been missing for months now.

It doesn't force Sirius to obey. Harry never wants to make his pet do anything he doesn't want to do, but what it does is reward him whenever he follows Harry's instructions, giving him a feeling of pleasure that can be as subtle as a head pat or as strong as a full body orgasm depending on the difficulty of the task.

As it is, the singular command makes Sirius shiver.

Harry smiles, guiding him to sit on the small sofa to the side of the room.

“What are we doing?” Sirius asks, voice a mixture of nerves and excitement.

“You'll see,” Harry says, taking his wand out of his pocket and casting a spell he's been practising for a few weeks now. “Incarcerous!” he cries out, and suddenly a series of golden ropes materialise from thin air, circling Sirius’ wrists, ankles, and knees.

Sirius yelps as Harry's ropes wrap around his limbs before tying themselves to the legs on both sides of the sofa, leaving him with his arms and legs stretched to his sides, his knees folded and his front exposed.

His hard cock twitches with excitement, and Sirius swallows dry, his face slightly blushed. “Er, new trick?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of reading recently, and came across this really interesting muggle book about bondage,” Harry says, walking until he's right in front of him and kneeling down, resting his bum on the soles of his feet. “I don't think Madam Pierce knows it's in there, though.”

Sirius takes a sharp breath as Harry wraps one hand around his shaft and the other around his balls. “Maybe she knows,” he says, trying not to sound too affected. “Maybe she has a kinky side.”

Harry smirks. “Like you?” he asks innocently, but the pretence falls apart with the way he expertly starts to jerk his cock. His tiny hands know just where to touch his godfather to drag sweet moans out of his throat.

Harry's hand moves slowly, but as precum starts to escape from the tip of Sirius' cockhead he speeds up his movements, using his second hand to massage his balls at the same time.

“This… Ah! Doesn't feel like much of a punishment,” Sirius moans, and Harry has to stop himself from smirking.

“Is that so?” he asks, leaning forward lo lick across the tip of his cock, his tongue lapping a single drop of precum accumulating in the slit.

Sirius gasps at the action, his hips jerking forward, but Harry just moves back. “You'll take what I give you,” he says.

His hands never stop moving, bringing Sirius closer and closer to the edge with every second. Harry can feel it in the way Sirius starts to tremble slightly, like a rope being pulled taut on both ends waiting to inevitably snap.

However, Harry has no intention of letting that happen.

“I'm close, Harry,” Sirius groans. “I'm going to—Oww!!” 

His moans of pleasure are interrupted by a pained scream when Harry abruptly tightens his hold on his balls, digging his fingers into the delicate organs.

“Who said anything about letting you cum?” he asks without easing his grip.

Sirius whines loudly, tone full of desperation. “Please,” he begs.

Harry tuts, flicking his balls with one finger, and watching with amusement as Sirius yelps. “Naughty puppy, you're always thinking with your cock, aren't you?”

Sirius cries once again, but the pain doesn't deter him from chasing after what he wants. He bucks his hips upwards, trying to fuck Harry's hand, but the boy just shakes his head and loosens his grip, leaving Sirius even more frustrated.

“Harry!” he whines, struggling against his bonds, but his owner makes no move to touch him again, instead waiting until his breath evens out to resume his ministrations.

“Months without your touch, Sirius. Do you know how desperate I was?” Harry asks innocently, leaning his head against his big chest, his pectoral muscles a nice pillow for him to rest on.

“I'm sorry,” Sirius says, his breath hitching as once again Harry takes him into his hand.

He can feel his heartbeat speed up where his head is pressed against the older man's chest. “I know you are.” This time Harry wraps one hand around his shaft and lets the other go upwards, until his fingertips are tracing over Sirius' lips. “Suck,” he commands.

His pet is eager to do as told, sucking on his fingers as if they were sugar wands, using his tongue to get them wet with spit. Smart boy, Harry thinks.

He rewards him by starting to wank him at a moderate pace, moving faster whenever he does something interesting with his tongue and slowing down when he pauses momentarily to breathe. Harry doesn't make it easy for him, though. His hands may be small, but they reach far enough to caress the back of Sirius' tongue and make him shudder.

If it were anyone else, their gag reflex would probably kick in, but Sirius is talented enough to avoid that. The only signs of discomfort also show pleasure, his eyes struggling to remain open, his face flushed red, the constant whines escaping his throat.

“Such a pretty boy,” Harry whispers just loud enough for Sirius to hear him, before licking his nipple and finally pulling out.

“Than’ ou,” the man pants, his eyes dark as he tries to even out his breath.

Harry continues jerking him off, his hot cock throbbing on his hold, but with his wet fingers he moves lower, tapping against Sirius' puckered hole. 

“It's been a while since we played with this, hasn't it?” Harry asks around one of his nipples, his teeth pinching the nub delicately enough not to hurt him at the same time that he presses his finger in with every clench of Sirius' hole.

“Hnnngh,” the animagus groans, trying to open his legs even wider to make space for Harry between them. “Come on.”

“You're desperate for it, aren't you?” he asks, pushing in past the ring of muscle. “You're so soft already.”

Sirius shakes his pleasure as he's stimulated from the front and the back at the same time, his hips shake wildly as he attempts to thrust into the hand holding his erection and the fingers breaching him at the same time.

Harry keeps his grip tight and his fingers steady, moving them in and out at the same rate that his other hand moves up and down. His fingers are the perfect length to reach his pet's prostate, so he makes sure to caress it every time he passes it.

Like this, It's easier to bring him to the edge once again,  especially once he manages to loosen him enough to slip another finger in.

He lets the sound of Sirius' moans be his cue, thankful that the room is soundproof from the inside and no one can hear his pet's cries of pleasure. He starts moving faster and faster, bringing Sirius to the brink of orgasm, and just when he knows the man won't be able to take anymore, he moves his hands away and watches as Sirius thrashes against the ropes in his search for stimulation

“Harry!” he cries out, his voice unsteady. “Please! please, let me cum!”

Harry smirks, but doesn't grant him the privilege. “You're looking a bit desperate there, pet. Let's calm you down, yeah?”

Every hair in Sirius' body raises at his tone, and a shiver runs down his spine when he sees the mischievous look on Harry's eyes.

He gulps when he sees Harry move his hand towards his balls, remembering the slight flick he gave them earlier. This won't be that, and they both know it.

Harry gives him a moment to back out if he wants to, to tell him to stop, but Sirius doesn't, and Harry moves without hesitation, slapping one of his balls with three flat fingers. Not hard enough to make any real damage, but with enough strength to make him howl in pain.

“AAhhhh!”

Harry only gives him a second to recover before he moves to repeat the action with his other ball, using the same amount of power for the hit.

Sirius shakes and thrashes, but ultimately is unable to escape his bondage, leaving him and his sensitive balls completely exposed for Harry to hurt them again.

His breath is laboured, and there are tears in the corners of his eyes, so Harry decides to take some pity on him, leaning forward he licks his sack, being as delicate with his tongue as he can be to soothe the pain.

Sirius whines when he does so, his eyes never leaving Harry, so he winks at the older man, before giving each ball a chaste kiss and moving backwards.

His godfather's erection has waned a little, but he remains hard enough for Harry to once again masturbate him without issue.

Sirius hisses once Harry starts moving his hand, but soon the moans of pain become those of pleasure as his arousal builds up.

This time getting two fingers inside his hole is easier as well, his fingers slip easily inside his channel and are soon enveloped by the velvety heat of Sirius' hole.

Under his breath, Sirius keeps repeating the same word. “Master, master, master,” he slowly whines every time Harry's fingers press against his prostate or caress his cockhead.

“I bet you want to cum so bad right now, don't you?” Harry asks, slowly his movements to give Sirius a chance at answering.

“Master… Harry, please,” he begs.

“Hmmm, please what?” Harry asks with feigned innocence. “Do you want me to slap your balls again? I didn't know you were such a painslut, pet.”

“Not… not the balls,” Sirius breathes out, and Harry answers by delivering another light slap, making him jump up as far as he can in the air.

“Ahh!”

“What was that?” Harry asks, leaning forward to lick one of Sirius' dark nipples, and then biting around it. “A last one?”

“No! Please, Harry, I just want to cum!”

Harry smiles, sucking hard on the nub, and continues moving as if he hadn't heard him.

“I'm so close,” Sirius moans. “I'm going to cum, please let me cum, please—Noooo,” he cries when Harry once again pulls away, depriving him of his touch.

He's close to sobbing now, trying desperately to fuck into the air, but the action causes no relief. His head falls backwards until it rests on the backrest of the sofa, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched shut as he attempts to calm down.

Harry once again takes his balls into his hands, but instead of slapping them, he squeezes, drawing a sharp breath from Sirius' mouth.

“Blue balls suck, right?” he asks cheekily,

“Yes,” Sirius replies, sounding wrecked.

“Then maybe next time you'll think twice before running off when there's a giant snake roaming the castle.”

“I'm sorry,” Sirius sobs. “I won't do it again.”

“Do you promise?” Harry asks, his voice sounding more vulnerable than he intended it to.

Sirius must notice, too, because his expression softens ever so slightly before he answers. “Yeah, I do, I do.”

“Good,” Harry says after clearing his throat, trying to pretend that his cheeks aren't painted red with embarrassment. “Then I guess I can give you an incentive to make sure you do.”

Sirius blinks. “What?”

“I’ll let you cum,” Harry says magnanimously.

Sirius raises his head and looks at him right in the eyes. “I feel a ‘but’ somewhere there…”

A grin slowly starts to spread on Harry's face. “What a smart boy,” he tells him, standing up and undoing his trousers, freeing his already hard cock. “I won't be touching your cock. At all.”

“Ah?”

Harry's fingers move towards his hole, entering it with ease. “You'll cum with your arse alone, pet,” he explains.

Sirius hesitates. “I've never…”

Harry knows this, unlike him, his godfather needs more stimulation to reach orgasm, in the occasions where Harry fucks him, he always has to use his hands or his mouth on his cock to make him reach orgasm, but after months without being able to touch him, Harry wants to give Sirius something new and exciting that he's never experienced, something that can't be taken back, something will be only theirs.

“There's always a first time for everything, isn't there?”

Sirius swallows hard, considering it for all of a second. “Alright,” he says slowly, but his twitching cock betrays his excitement.

He wants this as well, Harry knows his godfather relishes being owned, knowing he belongs to someone who will push him to his limits but never push him away. Something Harry is more than willing to provide.

With his full focus, he lines his cock up with Sirius' loosened hole, spitting down to wet his member. “I really need to start carrying lube around,” he mutters to himself. Luckily, he's not yet big enough that his size would be painful for Sirius. As it is, he manages to slip inside without any trouble, hissing with pleasure as Sirius' walls envelop his erection.

Sirius draws a sharp breath.

“Feel good?” Harry asks once he’s fully sheathed inside.

“Yeah,” Sirius replies airily.

They don't do it this way often, his pet once claimed that playing with his arse never did much for him, but Harry has always been a curious boy, so they decided to give it a try, and now the animagus gets desperate and whiny whenever Harry is filling him up.

“Good,” the young boy says, and without anymore prompting, he starts to fuck his pet.

He doesn't move slow or hesitate, having been deprived of this for months there's no way he can delay his movements for even a second, Sirius isn't any better, he's eager to take everything Harry gives him, if his moans are any indication.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud in the otherwise silent room, and it makes it all even more exciting, knowing that they're doing something dirty like this in the school's library.

“Such a slut,” Harry groans as he fucks the older man. “Moaning like a bitch in heat while a little boy fucks your hole, imagine what people would say if they walked in right now.”

Sirius' breath hitches, his hole clenching around Harry's cock.

“I bet they wouldn't even be surprised. Tell me, did the professors ever catch you bending over for your classmates while you were a student here? Fuck, I bet they did.”

“I was… I was the one bending them over,” Sirius moans in rhythm with his thrusts.

Harry chuckles, but it comes out slightly breathless. “And look at you now, tied up like a right bitch, getting fucked like one, too. This is how you were always meant to be,” he teases him. 

“Unnngh!” Sirius groans.

It's a thin line to walk. They both enjoy the slight fear of discovery from time to time, but realistically, they know only bad things would come if they were actually caught.

Still, it's fun to fantasise. 

“Maybe they wouldn't even turn you in if they came and caught us, they'd probably just ask for a turn at your arse in exchange for keeping the secret.”

Sirius is shaking under him, his hole clenching and unclenching with every word Harry speaks. He's close, has been close for so long now, but he needs something more to give him that final push.

Harry fucks him even harder, his thrusts starting to become erratic as he nears completion. He can't let that happen, though, not when he's so determined to give Sirius a hands-free orgasm for the first time in his life.

A very recent memory reaches Harry's mind, so he decides to take a gamble. He changes angles and makes his thrusts not faster but more powerful, so that every time he pushes in his cockhead will brush against the bundle of nerves inside his beloved pet.

Sirius lets out a moan, and Harry does it. He takes his godfather's balls with one  of his hands and squeezes them.

“AAhhhh!” He can only let out a guttural cry, pain and pleasure becoming one in his brain, and one, two, three thrusts of Harry's hips later he's thrashing in place as he cums all over himself, staining his stomach white.

Every fibre of his being trembles as orgasm ripples through his body, and the wild way his hole tightens around Harry is enough to push the boy over the edge, too.

When it hits him, all the concentration Harry had kept so far is gone to hell. Suddenly the ropes that had been keeping Sirius in place vanish as if they hadn't been there, and the older man takes the opportunity to wrap himself around the boy.

Sirius locks his legs around Harry's waist, refusing to let him go as he spills his seed inside him. Rope after rope of cum  from months of pent-up-ness coat every inch of his channel, the substance almost burning hot in his stomach.

Harry shakes through it all, a confusing mixture of emotions exploding inside him as if released by a trigger. He doesn't notice that Sirius is running a hand through his hair in a comforting manner until his orgasm subsides.

His vision is even blurrier than usual, and it's only when Sirius cleans the tears on the corners of his eyes that Harry realises he'd been crying.

“Shhhh, it's fine, love,” Sirius whispers softly. “I'm here now, I'm not leaving you again.”

A knot in his chest comes undone, and Harry starts sobbing properly now, pulling out from Sirius to climb upwards and hide his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

He feels like a little boy all of a sudden. He's always had to be more mature than the other kids his age, but wrapped in his godfather's arms, for once he feels like the twelve year old boy he is.

“I—I missed you so bad,” he sobs into Sirius' skin. “I was so scared that I lost you, Sirius.”

“I'm sorry, baby,” he whispers, kissing the crown of his head while Harry empties himself of tears for the third time in less than  twenty four hours. “I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere.”

Harry wants to believe him so bad.

He closes his eyes, and let's sleep take over him, knowing that he's safe in Sirius' arms.

They make it back to the dorms, somehow, and with the curtains closed around his bed, they're free to cuddle all night long while Sirius' remains in human form.

“Was… was tonight okay?” Harry asks, his voice still a little affected by all the crying he did.

Sirius snorts. “Yeah… it was a lot, but I probably deserved it.”

“You did,” Harry tells him teasingly.

“I don't think I'll be able to cum for at least a month, though,” he admits, holding Harry tightly against his chest

That gives Harry an idea. “Hey, Sirius?”

“Hmmm?”

“Have you heard of cock cages?”

The man shudders against his body, making Harry smile.

His pet better have learnt his lesson the first time.

Chapter Text

As far as he remembers, Harry has never been to St. Mungo's before, and knowing that they're here because Mr. Weasley got attacked by Voldemort's snake, not knowing if he's going to make it through the night, he wishes that hadn't changed.

After Neville gave them the fright of their lives, waking the entirety of Gryffindor with a scream that chilled them all to their bones, he, Ron, the twins, and Ginny, along with Hermione, Harry, and Sirius, were dragged to Dumbledore's office where they were all shoved into the fireplace only to come out in the Order Of The Phoenix's hideout.

Mrs. Weasley didn't take long to arrive after that, and after she and her kids exchanged fearful hugs, a silver phoenix—Dumbledore’s patronus—flew into the room and let them all know that her husband was being taken to the hospital as he spoke.

That's how they ended up here.

A bunch of teenagers and an animagus dog waiting for someone to tell them if the man who treated them all like they were his own kids is going to survive.

They did get a couple of weird looks because of the giant black dog accompanying them, but thankfully Harry's claim of "he's my familiar," was for once useful for more than getting Sirius randy. No one tried to take the animagus away after that.

But even then, waiting is utterly boring.

They have no real way of knowing how much longer it'll be until they get an update about Mr. Weasley's state, and sure, no news is good news seems to apply in this case, but just sitting around is driving them all barmy.

“I'm—I need to walk or I'm going to go insane,” Neville says, proving his point after half an hour of no news. Out of all of them, Ron seems to have been hit the hardest, but for some reason, Neville is a close second.

“I'll go with you,” Harry says as he stands up, not wanting to leave him alone. “Sirius needs to stretch his legs, too.”

His and Hermione's eyes meet, the girl clearly having noticed Neville's state as well, and she gives Harry a subtle nod.

Neville's jaw clenches, but he doesn't tell Harry to leave him alone, so he counts it as a win.

The two teens and the dog wander aimlessly through the many hallways, wards, and floors of the hospital for a long time, neither of them speaking much in the meantime, Neville because he's too busy thinking and Harry because he's waiting for Neville to speak his mind.

When he finally does speak, his words are not ones Harry would have expected. “Would you like to meet my parents?” he asks, his speech so fast his words melt into each other.

Harry blinks. “I thought they were… you know.”

Neville grimaces. “Not really— They’re— It's complicated,” he settles on.

“Alright then, Nev. Lead the way.”

The taller boy does exactly that. He walks them with purpose until they reach a ward Harry noticed they crossed a couple of times during their mindless wander. Maybe it hadn't been as mindless as Harry thought, after all.

“Janus Thickey Ward,” Harry reads out loud. “Isn’t that the…”

“Long-term ward for permanent spell damage? Yeah,” he finishes for him, not adding much. He keeps walking forward with his fists clenched, so Harry can only follow as he makes his way through even more corridors, until they arrive to a door with familiar names written on the door.

Alice and Frank Longbottom.

Neville doesn't look at them, though, he simply takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open, entering the room with hunched shoulders.

On his side, Sirius whines, and Harry can't help but feel like doing the same.

“I didn't think I'd ever say this, but I'm glad my parents just died,” Harry tells Sirius almost an hour later. They're inside a supply cupboard, both teen and adult sitting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder between all the brooms and mops.

“No, no, I… I get it,” Sirius replies. “I don't think I could stand seeing James like that. Merlin, I feel sick just remembering that empty look on Frank’s face.”

Harry rests his head on Sirius' arm and puts his hand over his godfather's much bigger one. “Were you friends?”

Sirius turns his hand and laces their fingers together before simply humming. “Had a thing for him for a while, unfortunately he was very straight, but he was very sweet, letting me down easy when I drunk confessed to him one night.”

Harry snorts.

“James and Lily would never have wanted you to see them like that, either,” Sirius says. “Though they probably would’ve regained their senses just to beat me up if they knew I was taking advantage of you.”

Harry's jaw snaps shut so quickly it makes a loud clicking sound. “You're not doing anything I don't want. You never have.”

“Harry…”

“No!” the boy snaps. “I'm not a little kid anymore! I want you, I've always wanted you, I was the one to put that collar on your neck, and the one to beg you to touch me, and the one to keep asking for more, and—”

“And you didn't know any better!” Sirius interrupts. “You were just a kid, Harry. I was supposed to take care of you, not hump your leg like a  bitch in heat until you did something about it.”

“I still would have wanted you,” Harry tells him. “Even if my parents were still alive and I had grown up calling you uncle, even if you had gone to Azkaban and escaped decades later. I don't think I could ever be anything less than completely in love with you.”

“I… what?”

He doesn't turn to look at him, but he can feel the way Sirius freezes at his words. He's never said that ‘L’ word to his godfather, not in this context, because he knew it wouldn't be well received, but he can't let him think that Harry has even once felt forced to be with him, either. With some hesitance, he brings their joined hands up, and presses his lips to the back of Sirius'.

“You don't have to say it back,” he tells him. “I just do, Sirius, even if you don't, even if you think I'm just a kid, or too young or whatever, I love you.”

The older man closes his eyes, and lets his head fall down. “I'm a really bad man,” he says in a defeated tone.

“No, you're not,” Harry tells him.

“I am,” Sirius insists. “A good man would try to make you see reason, but I'm just really happy to hear that, you know?”

Harry turns towards him, and realises that his face has a slight flushed tone, his cheeks painted a soft red. In a swift move, he changes positions until he’s straddling the bigger man's lap and laces his arms behind his neck. “I'll say it as many times as you want. I love you, I love you, I love—mmmph.”

His words are swallowed by his pet's lips taking his in a deep kiss. It feels like he's being swallowed whole, and he loves every second of it. Impatient, he opens his mouth, inviting Sirius' tongue inside, and the animagus, never one to disappoint, does exactly that, using the pink appendage to lick every corner of it.

Harry lets him take control of the kiss after that, happy to sit back and just enjoy himself while his godfather takes what he needs from him. He shivers when he feels a big hand slipping underneath his shirt, a soft moan leaving his lips when those long fingers find a nipple and pinch it just hard enough for it to hurt.

“Mmmph,” he whines into Sirius' mouth, his hips moving forward until his slowly rising cock is pressed against the older man's thigh.

“I've ruined you,” Sirius says, his voice sad despite his dark eyes. “You won't be able to get this from anyone else, will you?”

Harry desperately shakes his head. “Don't want it from anyone else, Sirius. Nnngh~ want you, I only ever want you,” he whines as he feels another hand reaching behind his back and into his trousers, a long digit slipping between his arse cheeks and pressing against his furrowed hole.

“I'm going to hell,” the man answers, but he doesn't stop his movements, instead he pushes his dry finger past that ring of muscle, breaching Harry's hole.

“Take me with you,” Harry begs, letting out a hiss as he presses back against it.

“Where's my bloody wand—thanks, pup,” he says as Harry hands it to him, and then he casts a spell they're both so familiar with they don't even have to speak the words out loud anymore.

Harry digs his fingernails in Sirius' shoulders as he feels the effects of the spell, his insides suddenly feel lighter, looser, and the finger inside him enters and leaves with ease, now covered with slick.

“Hnnngh,” Harry cries into Sirius's neck, biting down on his skin to avoid making too much noise.

It's probably a bad idea, having sex in a dingy cupboard closet in the only wizarding hospital in Britain, but as Sirius drags him back into another kiss and presses two fingers against his prostate, he can't find it in himself to care.

The stretch almost burns when a third finger joins the other two, but Harry only moans wantonly at the pain, he loves being filled like this, being full of Sirius' fingers, full of his cock, full of his come, he won't admit to it, but he's even had dreams where he lets Sirius piss inside of him, marking Harry's insides like a dog would his territory.

A gasp leaves his throat when he feels Sirius standing up, lifting Harry's lithe body as if he weighs nothing to him. It reminds Harry of just how tiny he still is.

His cousin Dudley is only a month older than him, yet Harry spent the entirety of his time at the Dursleys being at least three sizes smaller than him. His shirts were like dresses in Harry's slight frame, his trousers needed to be rolled at the boots two or three times to stop him from tripping on them, and using a belt was a necessity to stop himself from showing his ratty underwear to the world, that's not even mentioning having to fill his shoes with a few pairs of socks so they wouldn't slip off his feet.

He was already small, but being around the Dursleys made him feel even smaller, and yet, like this, it doesn't bother him at all. If being as compact as he is means Sirius can lift him up in the air without breaking a sweat, he's happy staying as he is.

And judging by the glee in Sirius' eyes, so is he.

“What are you thinking, you perv?” Harry asks with a smirk.

Sirius gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I'm thinking… about the time you had me keep my voice down while you rimmed me in an empty classroom while Minnie had her class in the next room.”

Harry's eyes widen as he remembers the occasion, he had a free period when he dragged his pet in and pulled his pants down, Sirius was practically in tears by the end, his arm bitten bloody because Harry refused to let him come before the class ended, and right after he recovered from his orgasm, he swore he'd get his revenge one day.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry whispers, now keenly aware of the sound of footsteps outside the small room.

Sirius' grin widens, but he makes no real move, and Harry realises he's waiting for permission.

“Do your worst,” he says, trying to sound confident, but silently hoping that he won't come to regret it.

The position makes lowering his trousers nearly impossible, but after fumbling for a couple of moments they manage to get them off enough so that Harry can spread his legs around Sirius' waist and dig his heels in his arse.

He fingers Harry for a couple of minutes, making sure to stretch him wide enough for his fat cock, and pulling a couple of soft moans from him.

“Gotta keep quiet, pup,” he reminds Harry with a shit eating grin as he grazes his prostate, and Harry can't even come up with a sarcastic retort because he's too busy pressing a hand against his mouth to stop himself from making noises.

“Fuck,” Sirius groans into his neck, “you're so damn cute, Harry. I want to fuck you so bad.”

“Please,” Harry begs, his voice so small it's barely audible.

He's desperate for it, his own cock is leaking where it's pressed between their stomachs, and his hole feels so empty when the older man pulls his fingers out.

He whines pathetically, but thankfully, Sirius has no intention of letting him suffer much longer. “As you wish, master,” he says, lining his cock up with his entrance and ever so slowly pushing in.

“Ah,” Harry gasps silently. not enough air in his lungs to make any real noise. His arse welcomes Sirius' member eagerly, taking every inch of width and length as they're pressed in.

He practically slides down the length, until Sirius' cock is buried to the hilt inside of him, the curly hairs of his crotch brushing against Harry's rim. He's so deep the boy can feel him in his stomach, and the thought of getting his guts rearranged by the cock that he loves is enough to make him start bouncing, wanting to get fucked immediately.

Sirius, ever so accommodating, does exactly that, not only thrusting upwards, but also bouncing Harry's body up and down as if the teen was nothing more than a fleshlight.

A sharp squeak leaves his lips, and he bites down on the first stretch of skin he finds to stop the noise. Sirius hisses sharply at the sudden pain in his shoulder, but his cock grows bigger inside of Harry, so the teen doesn't feel guilty, especially not when the next thing he does is lick over the bite marks, sucking a love bite in his skin that Sirius will feel all the way to tomorrow.

He can hear people talking outside in the hallway, and the risky nature of the situation makes him feel hot all over. Sometimes he wishes someone would walk in on them, would see just how much he and Sirius belong to each other, but right now, he does his best to keep his voice down. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud enough, they don't need to add more to it.

Harry takes his own cock into his hand, jerking off at the same rhythm of Sirius' thrusts, knowing that there's no way they'll last long in this position, his godfather is just too good at this, hitting every sensitive spot inside of him with just enough strength to make him see stars.

“Come inside me,” he whispers to his pet. “Fill me up until I'm dripping, come on, come on, please,” he whines.

“Fuck, yeah,” Sirius hisses. “You want me to fill you up, pup? To know that when we get out of here my cum will be dripping down your legs in front of all your friends? You want that, baby?”

Harry cries, clenching around his length. “Yes! Give it to me!”

Sirius thrust harshly once, leaving Harry without breath, before immediately upping the speed of his thrust to a level Harry didn't think possible.

The slapping sound of his hips against Harry's arse is thunderous to his ears, but he can't bring himself to tell his pet to stop, not when he's so close to orgasm.

What he can do is drag the man into a messy kiss, let him swallow the cries he's making as soon as they escape his lips, let him suck on his tongue and bite his lower lip as Harry finally comes all over his hand.

“Mmnnnnn!” His body shakes, and his hole contracts around Sirius' cock, milking it as it also spills inside it, Harry's body turns to putty as pleasure runs through him, and it allows Sirius to fuck him deeply while he rides his own orgasm.

“Yessss,” the boy hisses with every spurt from Sirius cock inside him, the feeling of his hot release coating his insides better than any other high.

Sirius' breath comes out shakily as he presses into Harry, trying his best not to move once his cock passes the point of pleasure and reaches oversensitivity.

“Oh, Harry, so good. The best I've ever had,” he pants, grabbing him by the wrist so he can lick his hand clean of cum.

“Merlin, you'll be the death of me,” Harry says with a smile.

His knees are weak when Sirius helps him back on the ground, and he shakes his head with amusement. “And here I thought I was the horny teenager of this relationship.”

“Hey, I'm still young!” Sirius says, but he's also smiling.

Harry pulls him down and pecks him on the lips. “Maybe in dog years.”

Sirius nips his jaw, and Harry knows that despite the older man's doubts, they'll be fine.

He waits until they're on a hallway, when Sirius is back on dog form to say what he wants to say.

“I know my parents wouldn't have been okay with… us, but from what you've told me, they loved me, and they loved you,” he says softly. “So maybe they could've learned to be okay with it. Eventually. Maybe not when I was so young,” he adds when Sirius gives him a sceptical look, “but I'll grow up eventually, and when I'm an adult, I'll tell you again, yeah? I'll love you until I'm old and grey like you, old man.”

Sirius stops walking, but Harry doesn't, happy to let the animagus think over his words, and when he turns around the corner, he's met with a frantic Hermione who quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“Harry! Where have you been?” she nearly shouts despite there being no space between them.

Harry grimaces. “I was looking for the loo and I got lost,” he lies quickly, “this place is huge.”

She seems to buy it, so he presses on. “Is Mr. Weasley okay?”

She nods with a teary smile. “They said he'll make a full recovery!” she exclaims. “He's unconscious now, but we'll be able to visit in the morning.”

“That's great!” he says genuinely, and on his right, Sirius agrees with a happy bark.

Hermione hugs him once more, before dragging him back to the waiting area. As they make their way towards the Weasley family, Harry sneaks a glance towards his pet.

His tail is wagging, and when he notices Harry looking at him, it speeds up, making the boy chuckle.

He can wait for Sirius. He’ll give the older man all the time he needs, as long as he'll keep being Harry’s in the end.

He can't imagine his life any other way.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up, Harry is on an unknown bed, a mattress way too firm under his body, making the bed frame squeak as he attempts to sit up.

The noise is loud enough to be heard outside the room, as evidenced by the fact that not even thirty seconds later he can hear a commotion as Sirius burst into the room, his body wet from where he was presumably taking a shower.

“Harry!” His godfather breathes out, his voice full of relief as his eyes land on the younger boy. He’s naked except for a small towel, and his wet hair drips continuously on the wooden floor. 

“Sirius? Where are we?” Harry asks, his voice groggy from sleep.

Sirius is quick to summon a glass of water for him, helping him drink it in small amounts as he takes a seat on the bed next to him. “What's the last thing you remember?” the older man asks instead of answering him.

“We… we were going to Godric's Hollow, weren't we?” he asks, his memories still fuzzy. “Neville wanted to check Dumbledore's grave for clues, and Hermione wanted to ask Bathilda Bagshot about the deathly hallows.” 

Sirius nods in confirmation, helping him drink another glass of water, but he only squirms where he sits instead of answering.

“Is that where we are? Is this Mrs. Bagshot’s house?” Harry asks.

Sirius shakes his head and bites his lower lip before answering. “We're on Potter Cottage,” he says softly, and Harry's eyes widen dramatically.

They're in the house where his parents died, where Sirius held his father's corpse and moved the hair away from his mother's face, revealing her unseeing eyes, the place where Harry had been hidden so well none of Death Eaters that came for him could find him. Despite the water he just drank, his throat suddenly feels dry once again.

“Oh,” he says, trying not to think too hard about it. “Where are the others? Is everyone okay? Did we get attacked?”

Sirius fidgets uncomfortably. “We went to the cemetery, and then to Bagshot’s house, but we all knew that something was wrong. She tried to get Neville alone, but—”

“But I followed them under my cloak,” Harry finishes for him, the memory coming to him as a sharp pain runs through his arm, all the way up to his shoulder. “And it turns out that Mrs. Bagshot wasn't Mrs. Bagshot at all.”

His godfather whines when Harry lets out a pained hiss, and softly traces his fingers over his bandaged arm, as if that would take the pain away. It's only then that Harry notices his own shirtlessness, but Sirius makes no mention of it.

“Bloody snake tried to eat Neville and you jumped right between them, got yourself bitten instead,” Sirius tells him, shaking his head reproachfully.

“Is Neville okay?” Harry asks immediately.

Sirius huffs, incredulous. “Maybe I shouldn't have stopped you from letting the hat put you in Slytherin all those years ago. Merlin knows you could use some self preservation.”

Harry groans. “Sirius…”

The man in question rolls his eyes. “They're all fine, I even managed to kill the snake, but…”

“How?”

“I changed back into a human and fired a killing curse at her scally arse,” Sirius says with a grimace. “I was really freaked out when I saw you on the floor, and at least they helped me heal you as best as we could before asking questions, but they weren't very happy with me when they realised I'd been an animagus all along. Or when I told them that you knew about it, too,” he adds.

Harry winces, but doesn't begrudge him that. If they thought he'd been spying on Harry the whole time the situation could have gotten messy—er, messier. Because having confirmation that Harry's been keeping such a big secret from them for the entirety of the time they've known each other couldn't have been nice, especially with the locket souring their mood for so long now.

“So, dog's out of the bag?”

Sirius snorts. “Looks like it,” he says mirthlessly. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, I know you wanted to wait to tell them.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no, it was going to get out eventually, it was only a matter of time. It's just… They left? Just like that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius quickly swats the air away with his hand. “Oh no, it's not like that. I told them to leave, they found a lead between Bagshot's belongings, and we really couldn't afford to waste time, so I told them I'd take care of you until you woke up, and we'd try to meet up again somewhere safe. That was two days ago.”

He feels himself relaxing ever so slightly, maybe they don't completely hate him, in that case.  “How are we supposed to get in contact, though?”

“I lent them one of our mirrors, that way they won't have to risk sending a patronus.”

Harry nods. “Hope you cleaned it up before doing that, Merlin knows what those things have seen.”

Sirius bites his lower lip in a rare display of shyness, and the action draws Harry's eye immediately. “It's been a while, now…” the older man says.

Harry smiles, despite living on top of each other, they haven't had any alone time since before Fleur and Bill’s wedding. “Is my puppy feeling needy?” he asks, cupping his face with his good arm.

Sirius leans into the touch, practically melting in his hand. “I miss your hands on me,” he admits. “I know we cuddle every night, but…”

Harry's thumb lands on his lips, and Sirius sighs softly, parting his lips to let the digit in.

“It's not the same, is it? I couldn't very well do this when you're in dog form, at least not without earning a few weird looks.”

Sirius whines around his thumb, sucking softly as Harry pushes it in and out of his mouth, pressing it against his tongue, and tracing the sharp part of his teeth with the pad of the digit.

It was a risk, joining the others in the horcrux hunt when he had Sirius to think about, but the older man hadn't budged when Harry considered skipping this adventure in particular and finding some other way to help with the war, especially after learning of Regulus' sacrifice from the fake horcrux.

Sirius is practically on his lap when Harry finally retrieves his thumb, a dazed look on his face as Harry slowly takes off his towel, revealing his leaking erection.

“Did you have fun in the shower, pet?” Harry asks, picking up a pearl of precum from the tip of his cock before licking it clean off his thumb. “Or were you a  good boy waiting for me to wake up and take care of you?”

Sirius shivers as Harry takes proper hold of his cock. “I tried, but I couldn't make myself cum,” he admits, embarrassment clear in his tone, even as he slowly fucks Harry's hand.

“All my training has paid off, then?” he asks, pulling on his collar until his pet's ear is level with his mouth, and then whispering “Good boy.”

“Harry…” Sirius moans.

“Tell me, were you thinking of me while you wanked?” Sirius nods desperately, and Harry smiles. “How did you picture me, on my back, with my legs on your shoulders? or on my hands and knees, telling you to fuck me like a proper doggy?”

“Please,” he begs.

“Help me get these off,” Harry says, pointing to his pants, "My arm still hurts so you'll have to do all the work yourself.”

“I can brew a pain relief potion for you.”

“Later,” Harry says dismissively. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

He can feel Sirius shake with excitement through their bond. “Yes, sir.”

He grabs the waistband of Harry's pyjama trousers with careful hands, his touch soft as he helps Harry rid himself of the interfering clothes, and because he's a bloody dog, he can't help himself from licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock when it's finally free and standing up.

“Impatient much?”

Sirius buries his face between his balls and takes a deep breath. “It's been months,” he whines.

It's a testament to how much has changed since he first turned back to human. Back then he went stir crazy if a week passed without Harry touching him.

“Get your fill then, puppy.”

He doesn't have to tell him twice, Sirius is fast to take one of his heavy balls in his mouth and suck.

“Ahhh,” Harry moans, grabbing hold of him by his hair as he sucks and laps at his balls, eventually moving up to his shaft and cockhead, he licks every inch of skin available to him, savouring every second of it while he jerks his own cock.

When he wraps his lips around the tip, Harry doesn't hesitate before thrusting upwards, pushing his length deeper into his mouth until he brushes his throat. Sirius looks at him with teary eyes and simply takes it, so Harry takes that as invitation to continue pushing him, fucking his mouth like he hasn't in so long.

“Fuck, I won't last long,” he curses, but this only encourages Sirius to use his tongue and suck harder, filling the room with obscene gulping and slurping sounds.

“Mmnnngk!” he moans around his length, trying not to gag every time Harry enters his throat. He takes it like a champ, not once pulling away for air, too used to this kind of treatment.

“So perfect,” Harry grunts between thrusts, ignoring the pain in his arm as he uses it to search for his wand on the bedside table.

Sirius doesn't stop his actions, pleasuring Harry's cock while the teen does his own thing. He expertly swallows around his length and gently plays with his balls before pressing on his perineum and brushing his fingertips over his hole before moving back up, and just like that, Harry's orgasm sneaks up on him in a pathetically short amount of time.

“Sirius, I'm gonna-ahh!” he moans loudly as he spills his load down Sirius' throat, coating it in white with rope after rope of cum. Sirius drinks it all eagerly, even as tears spill down his face.

Harry rides his orgasm with minute thrusts into Sirius' throat, as deep as he can when his godfather's face is already buried in his crotch, and he feels the exact moment Sirius himself cums when a loud moan from his godfather makes his throat vibrate, further stimulating Harry's sensitive prick.

When he pulls out both his face and Harry's cock are coated in spit and cum, and Sirius carelessly cleans his face with his arm before spending a few moments licking the softening prick clean between heavy pants and needy whines, rutting against the mattress despite having cum just moments ago.

“Greedy pup, still want more?” Harry asks, twirling his wand in his hand.

“Please,” his pet begs.

Harry chuckles and casts a couple of silent spells on himself, before turning around until he's holding his weight on one shoulder and his knees. He uses his bandaged arm to spread one of his arse cheeks, revealing his prepared and wet hole to Sirius.

He looks over his shoulder at his godfather, who is all but drooling into the bed, looking like he can't wait to just jump his arse. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks with a smirk.

Sirius dives in like a man dying of thirst seeing a pool for the first time. Less than a second after speaking Harry can feel his broad hands holding his arse open and a wet tongue pushing past his sphincter and invading his arsehole.

“Ahh!” he cries out, letting his head fall into the mattress while Sirius tongue fucks him passionately. “So good, pet.”

“Hmmm,” Sirius hums in appreciation, not once pulling away from his hole, eating Harry out like it's his life mission.

Harry's knees tremble with pleasure when a thick finger enters him, pressing without hesitation against his prostate. Sirius alternates between fucking him with his tongue and his fingers, and Harry's jaw goes slack from how often he's moaning.

Sirius doesn't stop for even one second, and Harry feels like crying, desperate for his godfather's cock. “Come on,” he whines. “Fuck me, Sirius. Fuck me.”

“Just a second,” Sirius says breathlessly, before diving in and licking Harry's open hole again like it's a tasty treat.

“Fuck,” Harry curses, and decides to resort to drastic measures. Feeling for their bond, he activates the bracelet on his (thankfully good) arm, materialising a shining leash that connects with the front of Sirius' collar, and then he pulls.

Sirius makes a high pitched noise as Harry drags him upwards by the neck, until his front is pressed flush against Harry's back, his thick cock nestled between Harry's arse cheeks.

“I said fuck me, pet,” Harry practically growls, for once feeling like the one with the animal instincts.

Sirius gulps audibly, and Harry feels his cock twitching against his arse. “Yes, sir,” he answers.

The older man lines himself up with his entrance without looking, his face buried in place in Harry's neck, unable to pull away due to the leash that his owner refuses to let go of. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually he manages to get it just right and push inside the wet heat.

Twin gasps leave their mouths once that happens, before quickly being replaced by whimpers and moans as Harry tugs on the leash, urging his pet to push deeper, to bury himself balls deep and then fuck him until his hips give out.

Fortunately, Sirius gets the message quickly, and soon Harry is shaking from head to toe as that thick length presses past his prostate and so deep inside his hole he can feel it in his gut.

He pulls out just enough so that the tip of his cock will catch on Harry's rim, and then, with a powerful thrust, he buries himself all the way down to the hilt, leaving Harry unable to do anything but let out a strangled cry.

This process repeats itself a couple of times, making Harry's head fuzzy with pleasure, he's not even getting properly fucked yet and he's already lightheaded.

“Yessss,” he hisses once Sirius decides to get a proper rhythm going, his legs spreading themselves wider to make room for his pet between them.

He fucks Harry deep and slow at first, as if he's savouring a meal. “So hot,” he groans, kissing the back of his neck before licking it with the broad part of his tongue. “Delicious.”

“What are you now? The big bad wolf?” Harry chuckles. “Want to eat me whole?”

His words make Sirius' cock twitch inside of him and the man himself whimper.

“Fuck, you do, don't you?”

“Harry…” Sirius whines between thrusts, moving his hand between the teen's legs.

“Don't,” Harry warns him. “I want to cum on just your cock. And don't you dare cum before me.”

Sirius whimpers, but redoubles his efforts, and the sound of skin slapping skin starts coming at a much faster pace. He angles his body so that every thrust will make his cock brush against Harry's prostate, making him cry in pleasure and bury his face deep in the mattress.

Ever so slowly, the rhythm gets faster, harder, deeper, somehow Sirius manages to outdo himself with every single thrust, making Harry moan like a whore while his cock rubs against the bed sheets every time one of Sirius' thrusts makes his whole body rock.

His godfather fucks him like a beast in heat, a low growl on the base of his throat as he ruthlessly hammers his cock in and out Harry's hole so hard the whole bedframe creaks. Harry can only hold onto his leash for dear life and take it all, even as tears run down his face and his throat starts feeling raw from all his screams.

“Bite me,” Harry orders him, tugging harder on his leash. “Come on, Sirius, bite me!”

A sharp pain on his good shoulder drags a hiss from his mouth, and his hole clenches wildly around Sirius' cock at the feeling. The pain becomes pleasure in a heartbeat as Sirius starts licking at the mark, and then, with a high pitched cry, Harry collapses on the bed as he cums all over the sheets, his whole body shuddering and his vision blurring as he covers his own stomach with his own spent. 

It doesn't mean Sirius stops, however. The animagus seems to have gotten a second wind, continuing his assault on Harry's hole without mercy. 

He shamelessly presses back against Sirius, letting the feeling of that thick cock pushing in and out of him help him ride his orgasm even as it all becomes too much for him, he cries out as his swollen prostate is abused, but not once does it occur to him to make Sirius stop, he's ready to take everything his pet has to give with open arms. 

Sirius only pulls out for long enough to admire Harry's gaping hole, spit inside, and push back in, continuing his pounding, he bites the back of his neck, his shoulders, his ears, and licks every inch of skin available to him.

Before now, Harry didn't even know it was possible to feel this much pleasure, but Sirius seems determined to show him a whole new world, fucking him until he's beyond words, only incoherent cries managing to escape his throat.

Every press against his prostate sends jolts of electricity all over his body, and the teen is unable to decide if they're pleasure or pain, or a mixture of both, he can only take it, helpless to the whims of the beast above him.

When he finally cums, Harry is barely clinging to consciousness by a thin thread, and he whines pathetically as he feels his insides being filled by his pet's seed, it's only once that Sirius finishes releasing that Harry relaxes, letting go of the leash in favour of playing dead to world.

It backfires on him, however, because without hesitation Sirius moves down to lick his cum clean off his hole, ignoring Harry's whimpers as he licks his oversensitive rim, and it's only when he's swallowed every drop, licked Harry's hole raw, that he moves upward to cradle the younger man in his arms.

He's delicate with him, holding the teen like he is still the little boy he met in a park near Privet Drive all those years ago, Harry buries his face in his neck, the familiar scent soothing his sore body.

“Was it good?” Sirius asks cockily, and Harry smiles despite feeling exhausted.

“Good dog,” he slurs, finally letting his eyes fall shut, knowing that he'll be safe in Sirius' arms no matter what. “The best dog…”

When he regains consciousness there's a bottle of pain relief potion waiting for him, and he drinks it without hesitation, sighing as it takes effect almost immediately, it has the downside of getting rid of the soreness he earned after the pounding he got, but at least his arm doesn't feel like it's about to fall off anymore.

He grabs his things from the bedside table, including a change of clothes that is miraculously clean, and gets out of the room in search of Sirius.

He finds out that the house is in a way better state than he expected, given that the only thing he knows about this place is that a bunch of death eaters attacked it a few days after Voldemort tried to kill Neville for the first time.

There's no visible spell damage in the hallways, and the rooms he's visited seem only abandoned, not destroyed.

When he finally finds Sirius in one of the rooms—a nursery, from the look of things—he wraps his arms around his chest from behind, letting his head rest on his shoulder blades.

“How are you feeling?”

Sirius shakes his head and gives him a painful smile. “Shouldn't I be asking you that? Is your body okay?”

“Your potion worked, I don't even feel sore,”

“What a shame,” Sirius says wistfully.

Harry snorts. “I know.”

A deep silence falls between them.

“Was this… my room?” Harry asks, earning himself a small nod from his godfather.

“The room itself was hidden that night, no one could get in if they had ill intentions towards you, that ward Lily made is a thing of beauty, I still don't know how she pulled it off.”

“You miss her,” Harry says, it's not a question.

“I do,” Sirius replies. “James and I were almost like brothers, but I also was Lily's friend, I don't think you could know her and not want to be her friend. She was great like that.”

“I wish I could remember her,” Harry says sadly.

“Me too, pup. Me too,” he says, and because he can't leave well enough alone. “She'd probably be rooting for me to go to Azkaban if she knew what we did in her guest bedroom, though.”

Harry huffs. “You're not going to Azkaban. Ever.”

Sirius gives him a strange look. “It’s good to be optimistic but, you do remember that I'm still a wanted wizard, right?”

Now Harry has a real reason to smile. “Oh fuck, I didn't get a chance to tell you, did I?”

“What?” Sirius asks, face full of confusion.

“I mean, you're not a wanted wizard. Not anymore. It was supposed to be a surprise, but with all of us living on top of each other in that tent I never had a chance to tell you,” Harry explains, looking inside his mokeskin pouch for something.

“What are you talking about?”

Harry turns to him. “Remember that conversation we had in the Room of Requirements a few days before we destroyed the diadem? the one about me keeping  a secret?” Harry asks, only waiting for Sirius' nod to continue. “Well… I might have used some knowledge I had about a horcrux to blackmail Dumbledore into making you a free man.”

Sirius blinks once, then twice. “What?” he asks in a tiny voice.

Harry smiles. “It’s a long story, but I knew Kreacher had the locket, so I told Dumbledore that I would give it to him if he cleared your name. It won't do much for your reputation, but at least once the war is over you'll be able to walk in the wizarding world without getting immediately arrested and—Ah! here it is!” He finishes, pulling out a wad of papers with an official looking seal stamped on them.

The older man doesn't say anything as he accepts them with shaky hands. He just reads through them carefully while Harry waits anxiously. 

“I got them the same day Scrimgour came to The Burrow to read Dumbledore’s will. That's why I wasn't there when Hermione, Neville, and Ron got their things… and probably why I didn't get anything from the old man. He wasn't too happy with me about the… y'know, whole blackmail thing,” he adds awkwardly.

Sirius doesn't say anything at first, too entranced by the documents in his hands, but eventually, he finishes going through them, and he slowly sets them down on a nearby surface.

“So… what do you think?” Harry asks, trying not to sound too insecure.

Sirius sounds choked up when he speaks. “You did all that… for me?”

“Of course,” Harry replies. “I've always wanted to do something like this. For a while I planned to just pay someone to get you a new identity, or to move to India, I checked in secret and it turns out the Potters have some properties there, or— I don't know, I just want you to be able to walk down the street without worry, to be able to talk to people who aren't me or clueless muggles, to be able to holds hands and kiss me in public… only if you want, though.”

His godfather doesn't speak for a few moments, and Harry thinks I fucked it up, and I got too ahead of myself, and, I shouldn't have said that , but the next words that come out of Sirius' mouth put all those thoughts down.

“You know, Haz, you're really making it fucking difficult not to fall in love with you.”

In a second all air leaves Harry's lungs. “What?” he asks, his voice so tiny he almost doesn't hear it himself.

Sirius hears him, though, leaning forward to press their lips in a soft chaste kiss, and Harry notices that he's shaking. “I said that I love you, sweetheart. I really shouldn't, not like this, but fuck, darling, you're just so—” he groans. “When you went down... When I thought I'd lost you I felt like the biggest bag of dicks for never saying it back. In hindsight it's obvious that I was a goner from the beginning. I came here to try and remember how fucked up it is that I feel this way when I helped change your nappies, but—this?” he says, pointing to the pile of documents. “No one's ever taken care of me the way you do.”

“You're mine,” Harry says, the words somehow managing to come out despite the thunderous beating of his heart. “I take care of what's mine.”

“I know you do.” Sirius says with an exasperated smile, his face flushed red. “Your parents would probably kick my arse if they could see me,” he adds, because he's incapable of letting a moment be.

“I'd defend you,” Harry says immediately, because he won't let this go just yet.

Sirius' face softens. “You mean that, don't you?”

Harry nods, and Sirius honest-to-God giggles, his laughter becoming louder and louder until he's practically cackling with his face covered in tears.

To anyone else it'd look like madness, but to Harry the sound is music to his ears.

“Can you say it again?” Harry asks, not explaining himself further, but Sirius, who knows him better than anyone else in the world, gets him regardless.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I'm yours, body, mind, and heart. All of it is yours, Harry.”

Harry's eyes are wet with tears, and he jumps on him in an instant, wrapping his arms around his body like an oversized octopus.

“I love you, too,” he tells the older man. “Merlin, I love you so much, I don't even know what not loving you feels like.”

“I'm here, pup, I'm here.”

And despite his trembling body, Harry knows. He's always known. Sirius is here to stay, has been from the very beginning.

Harry tilts his head up and Sirius leans down to meet him in a kiss, a lover's kiss, soft and sensual, expressing all the feelings they have no words to communicate.

It's heaven on earth. 

He still feels like that little kid that just wanted the big black dog to be his friend sometimes, but with Sirius' arms around him he knows he's more than that, and he wants more, greedy little freak that he is. He'll take everything Sirius is willing to give, and treasure every single thing, and in exchange, he'll give Sirius everything he could ever want, his love, his name, his very soul, if he ever asks for it.

If he's very lucky he might even get the chance to give him that ring he's kept hidden in his mokeskin pouch for years now. He'll get to give him his last name, a family.

Anything he wants, because Sirius might be the one wearing the collar, but Harry belongs entirely to him.

Chapter Text

“It’s only a few months,” Harry whispers to Sirius, trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince him.

They’re both naked in their bed, arms wrapped tightly around each other on the night before Harry’s meant to board the Hogwarts Express for the last time in his life. There’s no Voldemort to worry about anymore, the Dark Lord died by his own spell, reflected by Neville’s wand, but now they’re facing a completely different challenge.

With his name now cleared, and being pressured by the force of nature that is Hermione Granger herself, Sirius had been forced to register as an animagus, which means that he can no longer pretend to be just a dog and accompany Harry on his make up year at Hogwarts. 

Sirius whines, nuzzling his face into Harry's neck, covering the teen in his scent. “We haven’t spent so much time apart in years,” he whispers.

“We’ll have Hogsmeade weekends, and the holidays, and our mirrors,” Harry says, trying to sound reassuring, even if his voice cracks a little.

“I’ll still miss you,” Sirius confesses. “I’ll miss you every day. Will you?”

Harry scoffs softly. “Of course I will,” he says. “I never want to be away from you, I never want either of us to be alone again.”

His words seem to satisfy the older man, and with a final kiss on his forehead, he closes his eyes, letting sleep take over him while the man he loves holds him close to his heart.

It hasn't always been like this. There used to be a time when Sirius wasn’t Harry’s companion, back when he had to spend long, lonely nights inside a cupboard back in Privet Drive. The Dursleys used to tell him that he was a freak, and nowadays Harry would be inclined to agree. After all, normal people don’t have sex with their godfather-turned-pet-turned-lover, but he’s come to accept it as just another part of his life. There’s no way he’s stopping any time soon. Not when Sirius needs this as much as he does, not when he swore to take care of him all those years ago.

Harry is seven (and a half) years old when they first meet.

He’s been playing in the swingset, alone, after the Durleys went out for lunch with some of Uncle Vernon’s coworkers. They left him locked out of the house, but Harry is used to that kind of treatment. He doesn't think twice before marching his small feet to the park near Privet Drive.

He doesn’t wait for anyone before getting on the swingset, he simply plops his bum on the seat and starts propelling himself in the air like he’s seen the bigger kids do. It’s the only way he can get to move, none of the other kids nearby will even think about pushing him for a bit.

He's always known that he's different from the other kids in Privet Drive, the same way he's different from the Dursleys, and while he feels grateful for not being like his relatives, there's something inside of him that worries that he'll never meet anyone like him.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Birds don’t need anyone to help them fly, and neither does Harry. His messy black hair flows freely with the breeze, and that feeling of freedom is all he needs. He’s fine being on his own, and if his eyes stay for a couple of seconds on every kid that approaches the park, no one has to know. He doesn't wish they would stay and play with him, nuh uh.

But… It does hurt a little when one of them gets close, it makes something in Harry’s chest fill up for just a second, only for it to deflate right away when as soon as their eyes fall on his small body, they turn around and leave without a word.

It’s not his fault that weird things sometimes happen around him. Piers Polkins was kicking him while he was on the ground when he ended up in the hospital, and no one even cared that Harry was the one bleeding.

At least no one messes with him anymore. It’s nice to not have to worry about Dudley starting a new game of Harry Hunting whenever he’s bored.

Harry huffs. Yes, it’s nice, not having to worry about the other kids chasing him, or tripping him, or pushing him off the slide, but they also refuse to even talk to him, let alone be his friend, which is… not so nice.

“I don’t care,” he mutters to himself, pretending it’s the truth. He’s happy enough playing by himself in the park, the sun feels nice on his tan skin, and if it gets too hot, he can drink from the water fountain or rest under the shade of the big tree nearby, which he thinks he might do right now. His back rests comfortably against the hard trunk while his naked feet play with the grass under them.

See! He's fine by himself.

If he repeats it enough times maybe it’ll become the truth someday.

He closes his eyes when they start to get misty, telling himself that he just needs a nap and he’ll be fine again, but just before he can do just that, he hears it.

He doesn’t react immediately to the sound of footsteps coming from behind the tree, but after a couple of moments, curiosity gets the best of him and he sneaks a peek at whoever decided to approach him. 

The boy freezes when he sees him. A big black dog, with matted fur and just as skinny as Harry himself. The animal isn’t doing much, he’s just standing there and watching Harry with wide grey eyes.

Harry doesn’t know what to think.

Sometimes weird things happen around him, he’s aware of that. Like the time he turned his teacher's wig blue, or the time he made Dudley's teddy bear speak in full sentences instead of his usual preselected phrases, but he can’t talk to dogs like he can with that toy, he can't understand barks, and he’s still slightly scared of them from the time Aunt Marge’s bulldog, Ripper, tried to bite him and made him have to climb a tree to escape him.

However, after a couple of seconds pass, he realises that this dog doesn't want to bite him.

Human and animal just look at each other for a long time, seemingly studying each other. Harry has never seen such grey eyes on a dog before, and he can’t help but think they’re very pretty.

They remind him of his own eyes. They’re green, but nothing like his other classmates with similarly coloured eyes. Harry's eyes, just like everything else about him, are different. His eyes seem to almost glow, the colour so vibrant it reminds Harry of the glow in the dark stars Dudley got last christmas.

He has no way of knowing what the animal is thinking, but when it takes one step towards him, and then another, and another, Harry doesn't feel fear.

He doesn't even realise that he’s stood up until the dog is in front of him and their eyes are at the same level. He's always been small for his age, but the dog is ridiculously big in his own right.

When they’re barely inches away from each other, one of them finally makes a move. It’s crazy, but Harry doesn’t feel fear when the dog jumps on him and makes him fall to the grass floor. Had this been any other animal he would have been terrified, but looking at those grey eyes, Harry somehow knows he'll be safe. 

And as if reading his mind, the beast pinning him to the floor opens his mouth full of sharp teeth…

…and then licks Harry in the face.

Harry giggles.

He doesn’t know what to do as the animal keeps covering his face with licks, so he just laughs as his coarse tongue enters his sensitive ears.

“Hehehehe, that tickles!” he cries out, trying to push the animal away, but with his weak limbs he is unable to do as much, eventually resigning himself to just hug the animal as it does whatever it wants, his tiny arms not even able to reach around the dog’s neck.

His fur is matted, a little bit sticky, and the smell certainly isn't very nice, but Harry doesn't care much. He knows what it’s like to have a bad hair day, he's been having one for years, after all.

When the dog finally gets tired of licking Harry, he drops down with his full weight on top of the boy, leaving him trapped sprawled on the grass while the animal prepares itself for a nap.

“Oof, you’re heavy!” Harry tries to protest, but his words get ignored as the dog snores on his neck. “You’re a bad puppy,” he whines, resigning himself to his fate as a makeshift dog bed.

It isn't that bad, all things considered. The dog is warm and cosy, a perfect blanket for the chilly wind they'd been having. His weight a nice reminder that Harry isn’t alone right now.

And maybe he won’t have to be in the future, either.

His head hitting the desk wakes him up so suddenly for a second he forgets where he is.

He's back in the Forest of Dean, sharing a tent with his four best friends, three of them human, and one not quite, all of them sleeping lightly, in turns, in fear that they'll be attacked in the middle of the night.

He goes to grab his wand from his thigh holster, and panics when he finds it empty, but then his vision clears and he sees it right in front of him, resting atop his Charms textbook in the library table he claimed as his for the night.

Harry lets out a loud groan. He still has to finish this damned essay.

He's not really enjoying school as much as he did back when Sirius was next to him the whole time. Classes are more boring than he’d expected, now that he’s experienced what the world outside the castle is like. He’s only taking five N.E.W.T classes, but the amount of homework is enormous, so a lot of his time is spent on the library researching for one class or another.

That's not to say that it's all terrible

He doesn't know what kind of job he wants after school, but he knows what kind of magic he wants to learn, so he focuses on that at the moment, magical bonds are his main subject of study, but spellcrafting and warding come very close after that.

And when he doesn't feel like looking at books anymore, he can just wander the castle and help with reconstruction wherever it’s needed.

He’s not the only one to do so, but more often than not he ends up paired with students from other houses he’d never spoken with before that year, who are now suddenly interested in getting to know one of the four living people credited with taking down Voldemort. 

Dumbledore, Snape, and Regulus Black would’ve been the other three if they had made it out alive, but unfortunately for them, that’s not how things shaped up to be.

None of the students approaching him know exactly what they did. They just know that he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville (not Sirius, though, they’re not supposed to know that he was there at all) were all given Orders of Merlin after they explained what they had done to Interim Minister Shacklebolt. They had argued on whether or not to tell the man about the horcruxes, but Harry knew that the papers to clear Sirius’ name would be better received from a war hero than from a kid who spent a year doing miscellaneous work that might or might not have affected the outcome of the war at all, so he’d eventually convinced his friends to tell him.

It worked in the end, and now Sirius is finally a free man, free to do whatever he wants without fear of being arrested.

Free to leave Harry if he wants.

The thought shouldn't be as terrifying as it is, but the truth is that the fear remains to this day. 

If he came across a boggart right now, Harry is sure that he would see Sirius packing his bags and not once looking back, irrational as that sounds.

Sirius loves me, he reminds himself.

Ever since that day in Potter Cottage he's said as much many times over, hell, he even said it last night in a mirror call, but Harry, desperate, greedy, needy Harry, still fears.

He's grown since he last saw Sirius, and he doesn't mean just an inch or two, ever since coming back to school he shot up like a weed getting sun for the first time in its life. He finally looks his age, and he wonders if Sirius will like him now that he's an adult, no longer the cute boy he could carry in his arms like he weighed nothing, now that he’s someone that technically, in the legal sense of the word, doesn't need him.

The truth is that Harry will always need him, though, no matter how unhealthy Hermione tries to convince him that is. He wants to crawl in his chest and burrow himself in there, never leaving, he wants to be one with Sirius, in any way he can.

Now that he has him, he doesn't want to miss him ever again.

So they call, and spend Hogsmeade weekends together, and owl each other love letters so raunchy Harry’s face feels like it’s going to burst aflame every time he receives one.

They somehow make it all the way to December, and when winter holidays roll around, they spend them in a haze of kisses, discarded clothes, and ‘I love you’s. 

The two of them finally move out of Grimmauld Place in exchange for one of the properties belonging to the Potters, a townhouse a few kilometres away from Godric's Hollow.

The process of moving started right after the older man’s name was cleared, but it’s only now that they finish bringing all their belongings to their new home.

There are three bedrooms in the house, but he and Sirius share one, and the other two are used to welcome guests, like Neville when he needs space away from his Gran, or professor Lupin whenever he and Sirius are trying (and most times failing) to reconnect.

Neither of them knows about the real nature of their relationship, though. Neither he nor Sirius are ready to share the details of it with anyone just yet.

It's hard, keeping it a secret, but they somehow manage to fool even Lupin's werewolf senses.

He comes to visit once on boxing day, but Harry doesn't speak much with the man. During his third year he tried to avoid him, lest he somehow sniff out the fact that he was hiding a wanted mass murderer back in Grimmauld's Place, but Lupin also hadn't tried to reach out to him to tell him he was best friends with his dad until half the year had gone by, and afterwards, he hadn't even written letters to Harry until he was on the run.

He knows Sirius has a hard time reconciling with him for that same reason, but their shared history and past friendship makes him actually want to regain the close bond they used to share. Harry suspects that there was a time when their friendship was more than just that, but if they had been lovers at any point, Sirius never mentions it, and Harry doesn’t ask

There’s also the matter of Teddy. It’s strange, being the godfather instead of the godson in the relationship, but he can't imagine sharing the bond he and Sirius have with the baby, not even if he excludes the whole master/pet/lovers dynamic they have going on.

He loves the kid, of course, he’s adorable and watching him turn his hair and eyes the same colour as him is always a blast, but his bond with Sirius is one of a kind.

Not that Sirius gets that, at first. The animagus pouted for ages when Lupin first asked him to be Teddy's godson. It had taken a lot of kisses and cuddles  to reassure him that Harry wouldn't replace him, no matter what.

What does it says about him that he enjoys Sirius' jealousy over a baby, of all things? In Harry’s fucked up mind, it’s proof that the older man cares about him, that he wants to be as important to Harry as his godson is to him.

“You're mine, remember?” he says, almost like a mantra, his voice laced with amusement. “And what do I do with what's mine?”

Sirius sighs. “You take care of it.”

“I take care of it,” Harry repeats. “Do you feel uncared for?”

“Never,” Sirius huffs, as if it's not even a question worth asking, and that is that.

Now they can babysit him together and go out with the baby in his little stroller all around London, and Harry can imagine what it would be like, to have a kid of their own some day. Someone that is half him and half Sirius.

Which brings him to a similar thought, and to a small ring in a box hidden in the deepest parts of his mokeskin pouch.

“Hey, Sirius. Do you want to go out?” he calls out from the bed to his lover brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “There's somewhere I want to take you.”

“—And this is my bedroom!” Harry says as he finishes giving the dog a tour of the house.

The Dursleys are once again having dinner with someone from Uncle Vernon's company, but since it's late they had to leave Harry inside, and since he now knows how to open the cupboard’s door from the inside, there was nothing stopping him from showing the dog the place where he lives.

“I know it's not the best, but it's all I have,” he admits, “the spiders used to bother me, but now I think they're kinda neat—not as neat as you, though!” he adds when the dog starts to whine.

Harry goes to give him a hug, not wanting him to feel sad anymore, and the dog at least manages to calm down.

He never really left Harry's side after that day. He didn't leave the next morning, or the day after that, or even weeks later, he always finds Harry, and nowadays they spend the days together running around or taking naps in the park. Eventually, he stops being just a dog and becomes Harry's dog, so it's only fair that Harry invites him over, even if it's in secret.

They already do everything together, Harry walks with him around the neighbourhood, sneaks him food from the Dursleys’ fridge, and he even saves some money to pay to get him groomed and bathed.

The neighbours sometimes give him treats for him, somehow forgetting all the times they’ve called him a delinquent behind his back when faced with the adorable sight of a tiny kid hugging a massive dog. Not that Harry complains about it, he doesn't want to give them any excuses to call animal control on his pet. He accepts the treats on his dog’s behalf and crosses his fingers hoping that they won’t tell the Dursleys.

Harry's own brand of weirdness helps with that. There’s always a buzzing in his skin whenever he does it, and since his aunt and uncle have yet to find out about his pet, he’s pretty confident that that’s it.

He can feel it in his bones every time he hugs the animal, the way it envelops his entire body as if it wants to give him a hug too, and every time he does it his pet looks so much better, his hair shinier, softer, his body stronger.

The Dursleys are happy enough that Harry stays far away from their home, and after learning where Aunt Petunia keeps the spare house keys, he can leave to play with his dog whenever he wants, as long as she doesn’t notice it’s missing.

That's how he sneaks him in, and how they both learn about the secret passage (a loose fence just big enough for a dog to pass through) that lets his pet come in and out of the backyard as he pleases.

“I should probably give you a name,” Harry whispers to him as they watch the afternoon sky turn into a dark night. He can’t keep calling him “my dog,” or “my pet” forever.

“Boof,” the dog barks lazily into his chest, once again acting like a living blanket for him.

“What about Snuffles?” Harry asks him, it suits the cuddly animal, but his pet doesn’t seem to agree, giving him instead an unimpressed look that makes Harry giggle.

“Alright then, something else,” he agrees once he manages to stop laughing, and then he starts trying to think of a better name.

His dog looks at him expectantly, and Harry has an idea. “Remy?”

He makes a weird expression then, before shaking his head in a negative way.

Harry sighs. “Not that one either, huh?”

He comes up with a couple more names that his dog rejects. “Bear, because you’re big like one,” and “Shadow, because of your fur,” and also “Leo,” “Nigel,” and even “Gary,” but even though he seems to think about it, none of them seem good enough.

Harry sighs, running his hand through the dog’s fur as he watches the stars.

Oh.

“Oh, oh, oh! I know! Dudley got an astrology book for his birthday, you know? He didn't even read it before throwing it away, but I liked it, you see that star over there?” he asks, pointing at the brightest dot in the sky. “It's called Sirius. The dog star.”

The dog's ears perk up.

“You like it?”

A bark is his answer, accompanied by Sirius’ tail wagging happily.

Harry grins. “Alright, then You'll be Sirius. My good boy.”

He feels something in his tummy shifting, like two pieces of a puzzle have locked together in place, a warm feeling over him as Sirius' tail wags.

Harry looks up, and the stars seem a little bit brighter against the dark sky.

The rain catches them by surprise.

It's not on purpose, really, the sky is clear when Harry apparates them all the way to a nearby beach he secretly rented for the day—making liberal use of the Potter fortune available to him now that he's reached adulthood—and he convinces Sirius to go skinny dipping with him right before fucking him over a charmed towel under the pink sky of the afternoon.

He opens him up with deft fingers, his lips wrapped around his fat cock. It's gotten easier to do so, but he's still big enough for the action to be a challenge in itself.

He's methodical with his fingers, stretching Sirius just enough that he'll take Harry, but not enough that it won't hurt, to make up for it he swallows his cock as deeply as he can, stretching his throat around the girth and burying his nose in Sirius' pubes before coming back up for air and repeating the action again and again, until they're both ready for the main event.

Sirius whines when Harry pushes his cock into him, going as slowly as he possibly can, wanting to savour the moment forever.

“Sweetheart,” his godfather whines when he stops halfway, too entranced by the sight of his pleasure filled face to do anything at all.

It's only when Sirius clenches around his girth, his hole practically sucking Harry in, that he comes out of his stupor, and he can't resist lacing their fingers together as he finishes sinking his cock inside of him.

His heart is racing inside his chest, the action still as exciting as it was the first time they did this all those years ago. “Love you,” he whispers into his ear, starting to move painfully slow. 

Sirius lets out another needy whine, and his legs tighten around Harry's waist, his heels digging into his buttocks in an attempt to pull him closer, deeper. “Harry,” he moans out, dragging him into a messy kiss.

They kiss the whole time Harry fucks him, their mouths finding their way back to each other ever time they separate, all the while Harry thrusts in and out in a rhythm that pushes them slowly towards the edge.

He makes sure that he presses against his pet’s prostate on every go, knowing he’s hit the target by the way Sirius’ breath hitches slightly. He wants to make it as good for him as it is for him, wants Sirius to know that he knows his body better than anyone else in the world.

And when the older man keeps repeating his name over and over every time their mouths are free, he knows he’s succeeding.

Despite his desire to make the moment last, they both are quick to come, they've never done anything like this—having sex so out in the open—and although Harry knows no one will come by to interrupt them, the mere act of having outdoors sex is enough to drive both men wild with desire.

When Harry spills inside of him, he lets himself collapse on top of the older man, whose own release is sticking between their bodies, magically untouched by the sand.

They're both giddy with happiness when they start getting dressed, and Harry thinks. “This is it.”

He's clutching the box in his pocket when Sirius turns to look at him with a painfully sincere smile. He looks so happy, so relaxed, so beautiful.

But when the last rays of sunlight catch on the metallic parts of Sirius' collar, he freezes.

The fear he feels in that moment is paralysing. Does he really want me? Or could it just be the bond? Am I forcing him to love me?

His mind is running wild, and the words won't leave his throat.

It can't be. He knows that's not how the bond works, but what if… the traitorous part of his brain asks.

Soon enough more awful thoughts come in. Is it too soon? He just started to admit that he loves me, am I going too fast? Will it scare him away?

It's a real fear of his. He has no words to describe how much he loves him, no speech he could come up with would be nearly enough to express the depth of his feelings, and he knows for most people that would be too much to take, but Sirius…

Sirius isn't most people. He’s been with Harry for most of his life, so he notices his unusual expression, and gives him a mischievous smirk before grabbing him by the hand and tugging until Harry follows along.

He pulls him back into the ocean, clothes and all, and turns into a dog, running around the sand, turning around to make sure that Harry is chasing him.

And of course he is.

He runs towards him, and it feels like that's what he's been doing his whole life, but he has no intention of stopping now, or ever.

They run until their legs give out, collapsing on the wet sand before their lips crash together like there's a magnetic field between them.

That's when it starts to rain.

It's so sudden neither of them are fast enough to escape it if they try, not that they really try. They let the rain fall over them as they rut against each other, and it's only when they hear the first roar of thunder that they apparate back home, wet clothes thrown carelessly on the floor forming a puddle, ring forgotten in his pocket, and limbs tangled around each other.

Harry doesn't mind it much, he still has time to ask the question, they have the rest of their lives.

Almost a year passes before the thought occurs to Harry.

According to everything he knows about dogs—which granted, isn't much, but it’s more than nothing—the first thing you do after getting a dog is train it. Harry doesn't have to worry about Sirius peeing in his carpet or eating his shoes because he lives outside the house, but he thinks it'd be brilliant if he could get him to follow a few commands like the dogs from the programs Aunt Marge likes to watch on the telly when she comes over.

So with all seriousness the now eight year old can muster, he puts on a serious expression and gives his first command to his pet.

“Sit,” he says.

Sirius doesn't move, he just looks at Harry while his tongue hangs out of his mouth, his head turning sideways in confusion.

Harry frowns. This is probably going to be more complicated than he thought.

The book he got from the library said positive re-in-for-cement is important when training your pet, but Harry isn't sure what that word means. He just wants Sirius to sit and roll over and hold out his paw on command.

“C'mon, sit,” Harry whines. “Be a good boy, Sirius, please?”

Sirius boofs, clearly unimpressed by his attempt.

Harry sighs, thinking about what he’s doing. The man in the dog training program sometimes gave treats to his dogs when they did tricks, but Harry doesn't have any dog treats, all he has is some old candy in his pocket and a piece of bread he sneaked out of the house, and—

“Oh. I have my… thing,” Harry realises out loud.

Sirius gives him a strange look as he speaks, but Harry doesn’t pay it much mind.

Ever since Harry met Sirius, he's been starting to see his freakiness as less of a bad thing. How bad can it be if it's helping him take care of his pet, after all? He hasn't really tried to use it on purpose before, but he guesses there's a first time for everything, he just has to make something that will reward Sirius whenever he obeys his commands.

He doesn't want to force him to do anything he doesn't really want to do, just give him a good feeling whenever he does, like the ones they got when his… powers? Yeah, when his powers were trying to help him get healthy. 

Closing his eyes, he tries to focus on that warm feeling he sometimes gets in his belly, the ringing on his ear he felt before he turned his teacher's wig blue, or the tingling in his fingertips when he accidentally ended up on the school's rooftop.

It's not long before something happens. The air around him feels heavy as he concentrates, and Sirius barks wildly at the sudden smell of electricity in the air. Harry feels lightheaded, but he can't stop, he focuses really hard on what he wants and finally opens his eyes when he feels something leave his body. He watches in awe as a shining tendril leaves his hand and coils itself around Sirius’ neck like an emerald green collar, the exact same shade as Harry’s eyes.

After it happens, Sirius is too stunned to move, he just looks at Harry with wide eyes, his expression almost human.

“You can't tell anyone about that,” Harry tells him seriously, as if the dog is having conversations with other humans behind his back. “If the Dursleys find out  about my powers they'll lock me up in my cupboard until I turn old and grey and twenty five. ”

Sirius snorts, making Harry smile, he didn’t know dogs could do that, but soon enough he put on a serious face again, preparing himself to train his pet.

“Sit,” Harry orders, arms crossed and tiny face scrunched up in concentration.

This time Sirius obeys immediately, leaving the two of them stunned for a moment, but after that happens Harry's face brightens, all attempts at seriousness gone as he runs to pet his dog. “Good boy, you're so smart!”

Sirius gives him a confused bark, but he’s clearly happy being pet and cuddled, and the mixture of emotions only makes Harry laugh more. “You're brilliant,” he tells him. “I promise I'll be the best owner for you, Sirius.”

Harry's not like Dudley. He takes care of his things. And Sirius is not a thing, not really, he's his own person—er, dog, a living, breathing being, but he's also Harry's, so he'll take care of him regardless.

Sirius' tail wags happily, unsure but unafraid of what his owner just did, but it doesn't matter for him.

(He would do anything for Harry, he owes him that much.)

Something changes after that.

Harry likes going on walks with Sirius, and now that his dog has a collar and a leash he made with his powers, he can take him out wherever he wants without fear of him being confused by a wild animal. The other kids his age have even more reason to avoid him now, given that Sirius likes to growl at anyone that tries to bother him, but he doesn't mind not having human friends anymore. After all, he has his pet.

His training is going well, too. Sirius doesn't always follow his commands, but whenever he does Harry can feel the collar buzzing slightly, covering the dog with an invisible shimmer that feels like a hug from Harry.

He isn't sure how that works exactly, but lately it’s getting easier to understand Sirius. He's always been a very intelligent animal, but now he could swear that sometimes they’re communicating in his mind. There aren't words or anything, just feelings Harry gets, like fleeting images, but he likes it, it makes him feel like his bond with his pet is getting stronger.

As if reading his mind, Sirius barks in agreement.

Of course, it isn't all roses. Although Dudley avoids him outside the house now, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon still don't like Harry very much. Every time he has to spend time inside the house he feels miserable, and the nights he’s locked inside his cupboard and has to listen to Sirius howling in anguish from the garden are torture.

It eventually becomes too much after he turns nine. Sirius has taken to sleeping in their back garden every single night, but that’s not close enough for Harry anymore. It hurts to be separated from him. He wants his pet with him at all times. Sirius is his. They belong together.

“I wish you were here,” Harry whispers into his thin mattress one night, his eyes starting to water slightly as he clutches his threadbare blanket, and then, he feels that familiar fuzzy feeling all over his body, a thin thread of light leaving though the gap under the cupboard’s door, going outside into the night.

Less than a minute later, there’s a loud ‘pop’ and a heavy weight lands on top of Harry.

“Sirius!” Harry whisper-shouts, clinging to the enormous animal with his tiny arms and legs. The two of them barely fit inside the cupboard, but he's too happy to pay attention to that. All that matters is that Sirius is with him.

Sirius licks his face in a wet kiss, and although Harry can feel his nervousness from being in a small space, they find a comfortable position to sleep. Harry's dreams that night are all warm and happy.

He could get used to this.

But of course, it doesn’t last long.

Neville catches him in the middle of a mirror call with Sirius one night.

It would have been fine, really… If Harry hadn’t had his cock out and in his hand while he instructed Sirius to bounce on the dildo that they’d spelled to feel exactly like Harry’s cock.

After the war, they've all had their bouts of insomnia and/or nightmares, it's one of those things in a boy's dorm they all know but don't talk about—like wanking in the showers, or Seamus and Dean sneaking into each other’s beds—but so far Neville has had it the worst.

Harry doesn't blame him, the fact that he was the lynchpin that ended the war was an enormous weight on his shoulders, and he knows that stress won't stop just because the war is over. He still has nightmares about his last day at the Dursleys sometimes, after all.

But the point is that one night, his friend can't fall asleep, and he opens his curtains in the middle of the night, unaware that Harry's cast a silencing charm in them in order to have steamy mirror sex with his godfather.

It goes as well as you'd expect.

Harry's lucky that he can cast a silencing hex faster than Neville can let out a yelp, and he yanks him into his bed quickly before anyone else can wake up, covering himself, disconnecting the call, and closing the curtains around them as he does so.

“Harry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—Was that Sirius—Oh, Merlin, are you two—”

“Neville, breathe!” Harry exclaims, desperately trying to put on his pants as he does so.

The taller teen closes his mouth so fast his teeth make a clicking noise, and Harry winces in sympathy with him before helping him regain his breath.

“I'm sorry,” Neville says again, once he's calmed down. “I didn't mean to interrupt, it was just—”

“Nightmare?” Harry asks.

Neville simply nods.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, trying to change the topic of the conversation. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to talk about Sirius, but he knows what it must look like from the outside.

Neville bites his lower lip. “I should probably let you go back to… whatever you were doing…”

Harry groans, hiding his face in his palms. “Don't tell anyone about it, please?” he pleads.

Neville is silent for a couple of moments. “I… I won't, but— He's older than you, way older…”

Harry huffs. “He’s only thirty eight, that's nothing in wizard years, and I'm of age, besides.”

Neither of them speaks at first, until Neville gathers the courage to speak what's on his mind. “But it's been going on since before you were of age, hasn't it?” he asks, proving once again that he's more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for.

Harry doesn't answer at first. “Does it bother you?” he asks.

“I—I’d be lying if I said it didn't— but,” he adds when he sees that Harry wants to retort, ”but I'm not going to try to make you break up with him, or anything.”

Harry looks at him with bright eyes.

“He's not forcing you to do anything you don't want, though, is he?”

Harry shakes his head fervently. “Never.”

Neville swallows. “Good,” he says slowly. “Good, if he ever tries to, tell him…. tell him that you're friends with the bloke that killed Voldemort, and that I know where he lives.”

Harry snorts as he imagines Neville giving Sirius the shovel talk. “He… he takes care of me, and I do the same for him, Nev. He'd never hurt me, I promise you.”

Neville nods, lying down comfortably next to Harry. “I should probably go back to my own bed,” he says. “Let you get back to Sirius.”

Harry simply shakes his head. “You don't have to leave. I'll just call him in the morning, you were going to tell me about your nightmare, weren't you?”

Neville blinks. “You know what? I can't remember what it was about anymore.”

Harry smiles at him, and soon his friend is back to his own bed, ready to fall asleep once again.

A couple of moments later his mirror buzzes, and Harry bites his lower lip as he answers it.

“Now, where were we?” 

The shrill voice of Aunt Petunia fills the entire house in the morning, startling awake both the boy and dog instantly. 

“What is that thing!?” she screeches at Harry, pointing a broom at Sirius like she wants to hit him.

“Don’t!” Harry cries. “It’s just my dog!”

She doesn’t put the broom down, she just turns her attention towards him as she gives him a disgusted glare. “You ungrateful little— How dare you bring such filth into my house!”

Sirius is growling, and Harry wraps his little arms around the dog’s neck, stopping him and covering his body at the same time in an attempt to stop both of them from hurting each other. “He’s not dirty! Aunt Petunia, please put that down!” he cries out.

She doesn’t care to listen to him. He doesn’t see her move, his eyes closed in fear of Sirius being hurt, so he can only react with a scream when he feels the wooden end of the broom hitting him in the back.

“AHH!” he yells out in pain, his fingers digging into Sirius’ fur tighter as the dog thrashes under him. The sound of wild barks fills the room, but Harry doesn’t know if she managed to strike him, too busy getting hit once again with the broom.

Sirius snarls at her and desperately tries to get away from Harry. The boy refuses to let go, the fear he's feeling paralysing him where he is.

He doesn't even hear uncle Vernon when he comes running downstairs, the debris and dust falling into him as the older man's weight lands on the stairs doesn't faze him.

“What is going on here!?” he asks, pulling Harry's attention back to reality.

“Vernon! The boy  brought a beast into the house!”

“He's not a beast!” Harry cries, but neither of them cares, and all blood leaves his face as he sees his uncle holding a hunting rifle in his hand, and a furious expression in his face.

His hold on Sirius' falters, and the animal finally strikes, biting Aunt Petunia’s leg and making her drop the broom with a shrill scream.

“Sirius, no!” Harry screams, trying to rush towards him to pull him away from her, but he soon falls flat on his bum when Uncle Vernon backhands him in the face, leaving a red impression on his cheek.

Harry can't even see properly what happens next, he doesn't have his glasses, everyone is screaming, and there are tears in his eyes.  He's helpless to help as uncle Vernon moves towards Sirius and without any hesitation pulls the trigger of his gun.

“NO!” Harry screams, so loudly that his throat hurts, Sirius lets out an equally loud yelp, and Harry's whole body burns.

“Bloody mutt! Stay down!” Vernon growls, as Harry tries to go towards Sirius, but Petunia's sharp nails hold him by the arm, stopping him from reaching his pet.

“Sirius!” Harry cries, thrashing against Petunia, desperate to go towards him. The floor is red, and Harry can't breathe, but he needs to do something.

“Stop it now, boy!” Vernon yells, but Harry doesn't care, he needs Sirius.

He doesn't even care when Vernon points the gun towards him next, doesn't hear Petunia's protesting noises, he manages to slip away finally, and he rushes towards his pet.

“Bloody freak, you're going to ruin us all! I should have done this years ago!” he shouts, his face red in anger, but Harry doesn't care if he shoots him, too. Not when Sirius is still bleeding out on the floor.

His head is fuzzy, his skin feels like it's covered in ants, and his blood is boiling, nothing seems real anymore.

Time seems to slow down the next time Harry hears the sound of the rifle being reloaded. In less than a second Sirius' body shifts, fur turning into skin, paws into hands, snout into a human face, and the man in the place where his dog used to be yells out “PROTEGO!” right before a loud bang and a scream. 

With no energy left, Harry feels his body hit the floor, and then everything fades to black.

He's lying down in a bed in the hospital wing when Sirius' voice cuts through the haziness of his mind.

“—on pox?” the man asks a blurry round figure. Madam Pomfrey, maybe? He can't really tell without his glasses

He doesn't hear her response either, too busy feeling nauseous and suffering from a terrible headache, looking down at himself, he can tell that his skin is covered in pocks, and has taken a greenish hue.

Did he get hit with a spell? Is this the result of one of Fred and George’s products? He hopes not. He feels awful, and he'd hate for this to be a prank.

The conversation keeps going in the background, but it's hard to focus on anything other than Sirius' voice.

“No, I don't think he's ever been vaccinated against it… or any other magical disease, really,” his lover says and Harry can't help but think that he's too far away.

Magical disease. Is he sick? He hates being sick, whenever he gets sick he gets locked up in the cupboard and ignored all day long. He hates the cold canned soup Aunt Petunia leaves next to his cot, and he hates that they won't let him out even if he pukes all over himself.

He doesn't want to go back to the cupboard, he wants his doggy. He wants Sirius.

“It's treatable, right? Remus told me they found a cure while I was… away,” he says, and then someone else speaks again, although Harry doesn't understand it this time either. “Oh, thank Merlin.”

He feels like crying, why isn't Sirius coming to him?

“Sirius,” Harry tries to call out, his voice too soft and raspy, and his magic is too weak to reach him through their bond.

The conversation stops, and a few moments later there's a hand holding his, and Harry's favourite pair of eyes are mere inches away from him, filled with love as they look at him. “You're so pretty,” he says. He doesn’t tell him that nearly enough.

The animagus chuckles, and Harry thinks he might be blushing. Still got it, he thinks to himself.

A coughing fit stops him from saying anything else, but then Sirius is putting a potion vial on his lips, and making him drink something that tastes awful, like sweaty socks left to dry in the sun.

“Blergh,” Harry says, but as steam starts to erupt from his ears, his mind feels slightly clearer.

“How are you feeling, sprog?” Sirius asks him.

Harry thinks about it. “Like uncle Vernon beat the shit out of me again,” he admits honestly, still slightly out of it.

Sirius makes a subvocal whine, and Harry regrets his choice of words immediately. He made his pet sad, he hates himself. “Don't cry,” he says, even though he's the one with misty eyes. “Be happy, I like when you're happy.”

Sirius chuckles, and his laughter is like medicine for all his aches, except everything still hurts and his nose is runny. “Where are my glasses?”

“On the table next to your bed, Mr. Potter,” a feminine voice tells him, and yeah, that's definitely Madam Pomfrey.

“Thanks,” he says with blushed cheeks, realising that she saw his careless interactions with Sirius. “What happened to me?”

“You have dragon pox,” she says calmly. “We'll be administering a cure tonight and then we'll let your body recover for a few days.”

“Oh,” Harry says, before turning to Sirius. “Are you staying?” he asks, his voice full of hope.

Sirius runs a hand through his messy hair. “I'm taking you with me, actually. Dragon pox is contagious, and apparently the cure takes a while to take effect, so you can recover back home while I play nurse for a week.”

Harry hums. Sirius wearing a nurse outfit, now that's an idea.

“I'll send you all the potions you'll have to take while at home, along with a few additional ones that should prevent you from catching any other avoidable magical diseases. Honestly, I should have done that years ago, but I'm afraid I overlooked the fact that you were raised by muggles and didn't have the proper inoculations, and you have my apologies for that, Mr. Potter.”

Harry grimaces at her earnestness. “It's fine. Most people tend to forget about that,” he tells her. “I wish I could forget about it,” he adds in a whisper, mostly to himself.

He wonders what it would have been like, to be raised in a magical home from the beginning. Either by his parents or by Sirius. He thinks he probably still would have fallen for the man, but maybe in a different way, and his cheeks heat at the thought of another world where he grows up calling Sirius ‘daddy’ instead of ‘pet.’

Madam Pomfrey confuses his sudden flush with the return of his fever, and leaves the room in search of another vial of pepper-up before Harry can tell her that's not it.

Not that he's complaining about being left alone with Sirius, he'd never complain about that.

He turns to look at his pet, and despite the fact that Harry looks undeniably gross, he's staring at him the same way he always has, as if Harry is a work of art, a precious thing that he doesn't want to lose.

His body feels warm in a good way now, and he gently squeezes the hand holding Sirius' to get his attention.

“You’re not wearing your collar,” he notes with a pout.

Sirius shakes his head. “It’d be a bit difficult to explain it to Minnie and Poppy, doubt they’d buy that it’s just a fashion statement,” he explains.

Harry continues pouting. 

The older man looks at him, incredulous, and with a twist of his wand the emerald green collar materialises again, hugging his neck snugly. “Better, you big baby?”

Harry nods shamelessly. “Take me home?” he asks.

Sirius smiles at him. “Yeah, baby, let's get you home.”

It takes him a little over a week to recover.

When he first wakes up in his new bed, an enormous thing bigger than any other bed Harry's ever seen before, Sirius explains to him what happened. Magic exhaustion, is what he calls it, even though Harry still can't quite believe that his powers are real magic.

Sirius tells him how Harry's magic saved him from a curse, how he used his own magic to stop Vernon from shooting them, how he teleported them (“it's called apparition, love”) into his family's old house so that Harry could recover.

It's a lot of information for a nine years old boy to take, so Harry latches onto the first thing that catches his mind.

“So you're really my doggy?” he asks Sirius with awe in his voice.

The man simply gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, Harry. I am,” and then he turns back into a dog just long enough for Harry to clap, and then he goes back to human.

Harry uses what strength he has to jump out of his bed and hug his pet, and Sirius wraps his own arms around him to stop him from falling down.  “I'll take care of you. I'll be a good master,” Harry promises.

Sirius just lets out a wet laugh. “Thank you, sweetheart, but you don't have to anymore.”

Harry's face crumbles. “You don't want me?—But, but, you're still wearing the collar I got you!”

Sirius' eyes widen like plates, and he's quick to reassure Harry before he bursts into tears. “No, no, of course I want you, love, you were a great owner, the best, even!”

Harry sniffles. “Really? Pinky promise?” He's never done one of those before, but he knows you can't break a pinky promise.

Sirius takes his pinky on his own without hesitation, and promises him so. Harry relaxes again, letting his head rest against Sirius' chest.

When he starts feeling better, Sirius introduces him to Kreacher, and warms him away from his mother's portrait, and then he shows him the rest of the house, tells him what rooms are good to go inside and which ones he should stay away from.

Apparently, there's a lot of dangerous things inside the old house, and Harry would be lying if he said he doesn't find it a bit scary, but Sirius took him away from Uncle Vernon before he could shoot him, and he stopped Aunt Petunia from hitting him again—He wants to be brave for him.

He gets used to his new life pretty fast, he doesn't have to cook all the meals, or clean the whole house, and no one ever locks him inside a cupboard. He's allowed to read all the books he wants in the library, and he gets to play fetch with Sirius when they go to the park nearby. Sirius gets a second-hand TV from a dumpster and fixes it until it works with magic, and the two of them spend hours on the couch watching the cartoons the Dursleys never allowed him to see.

Harry learns that just like with his magic bracelet, Sirius can make his collar appear and disappear whenever he wants, but after Harry sees him the first time without it and promptly bursts into tears, his godfather doesn't really take it off anymore.

He never really stops seeing Sirius as his pet, and his desire to take care of him never goes away, he manages to convince Sirius to take warm baths together, and he giggles whenever the older man makes him a wizard's hat out of bubbles, returning the favour by making him a long beard like Merlin’s.

Sometimes they sleep in the same bed, and those nights Harry never has nightmares, but they both have their own rooms in the house.

Harry's is the master bedroom. “It used to be my parents’,” he explains to Harry, while he himself takes his childhood room, which is filled with pictures of motorcycles and ladies that forgot to put their tops on.

Sirius blushes and tries to pull him out of the room when he notices them, and when Harry asks about them he avoids answering, telling him something about “when he's older...”

He doesn't let that stop him.

He finds even more pictures of naked people when he's snooping around the room one day, a box full of polaroids and even magazines with them, and he knows he probably shouldn't be doing it, but curiosity has always been far too tempting for him.

He only skims through the magazines, most of them are just more naked men and women, sometimes alone, sometimes together, pressing against each other, or the men putting their pricks inside the women’s fannies, or inside other men's bums, or mouths, but the polaroid pictures… those he stares at for a long time.

The first time he sees Sirius naked is when they take a bath together, he knows his godfather's chest is covered in tattoos and hair, but the Sirius in the pictures, still in his teen years, he doesn't have either of those, yet.

His skin is white and smooth, and he runs his clumsy fingers over it, wondering if it feels as soft as he imagines it. In some of them he's holding his prick, bigger and stiffer than the last time he saw it in the bath, or spreading his cheeks, revealing a pink bumhole between them.

He starts feeling weird inside his clothes.

He doesn't tell Sirius that he found the pictures, but he does take one of them to keep it underneath his pillow, the one where Sirius is looking straight at the camera and licking something white off his thumb, a liquid that covers his whole chest and stomach, all the while he grabs his stiff prick, giving a confident smile to the camera that makes Harry feel butterflies in his stomach.

He gets those often around him, when Sirius pats his head, or when he sits Harry in his lap while he does homework and tells him that he's so smart.

Harry tries to return the favour whenever he can, he tells Sirius that he looks handsome whenever he wears nice clothes, like he remembers his aunt used to do with his uncle, and he tells Sirius his hair is so pretty and soft whenever he gets a chance to touch it, he also calls him a good boy every chance he gets, because he is, and Harry loves him.

Sirius flushes and bites his lower lip whenever he does so, so Harry assumes the animagus enjoys it as much as he does, but sometimes after Harry compliments him, the older man makes an excuse to leave the room, practically running towards his bedroom or towards the bathroom.

Harry sometimes tries to press his ear against the door, hoping to hear whatever it is his pet is doing, but Sirius must be using his magic, because all Harry can hear is a buzzing noise, as if a bunch of people were whispering random words at the same time, and the door never opens no matter how hard Harry tries to enter.

It frustrates him to no end. He wants to know what his godfather is doing. They used to do everything together, why can't Harry do this with him?

The same process repeats more often as the weeks, and then months, pass. Sirius starts acting weird around the house, and Harry is worried about him, but it gives him the opportunity he's looking for. One day Harry is sitting on Sirius' lap while watching TV and sucking on an ice lolly when his godfather starts squirming in his seat.

Harry frowns, he can't be that heavy, can he? He's still small for his age, no matter how many nutrient potions Kreacher makes him drink with his breakfast, and—

“Sirius, the TV remote is poking me” he tells his godfather, who immediately stands up, almost making Harry fall on the floor.

“Shit, fuck, sorry, love, I didn't mean to, I just—I need to use the loo,” he says before taking off, but Harry knows it's a lie. He already went before they settled down on the couch, and what's even more, the TV remote is on the other end of the sofa, nowhere near Sirius' lap.

Harry leaves his ice lolly forgotten on top of the coffee table, and runs upstairs to the bathroom near their rooms, and his eyes sparkle.

The door is open!

As sneakily as he can, he peeks inside the bathroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the man is doing, and his mouth falls open when he sees him.

His trousers are down to his knees while he sits on the toilet lid, one of his hands running through his hair while the other is holding his prick.

But contrary to what Harry believed, he's not just holding it, his hand is moving up and down, like he's trying to power up one of Dudley's water guns he got for his birthday.

Harry watches entranced as Sirius whines and moans every time he moves his hand, but his expression remains frustrated, like Harry when he's trying to do multiplication tables and he knows he's doing something wrong but he doesn't know how to fix it.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sirius curses under his breath. “Why can't I just—Ugh!”

He sounds desperate, his hips bucking up and down at the same time that his hand moves. He's moaning, and panting, but nothing more is happening. Like he's stuck. He even looks a little angry, his eyes dark like every time he gets in one of his weird moods, but Harry is always the one to help him get out of those.

Harry can help him this time, too.

He opens the door loudly and makes his way straight to Sirius, who is so surprised he flails around until he falls on the floor.

“Oh, are you okay?” Harry asks, worried that he hit himself.

“Yeah, yeah, pup. I'm fine—Ah, did you need something?” he asks, his voice strained and his hands doing their best to cover his prick.

“I came to help!” Harry says proudly.

Sirius sighs. “This isn't something you can help with, Haz.”

Harry huffs. “Yes it is, let me see!” he says.

Now, as Harry would come to learn many years later, their bond doesn't force Sirius to do anything, but when one is so used to following a specific person's order, sometimes obeying becomes more of an instinct than an actual decision, which is why in that moment, to both his and Sirius' surprise, he does just that.

He puts his hands away, freeing his prick and making it bounce in place. Letting Harry see.

Sirius lets out a moan as the bond rewards him with a slight burst of pleasure, and one of his hands goes to his collar, giving Harry the opportunity to sit on his legs and wrap his tiny hands around Sirius' prick.

It's so big and so warm Harry has a hard time getting them around it, but when he does, Sirius' entire body shudders, and he can feel through their bond that he feels good.

“Harry, stop,” Sirius cries, but his hips move up anyway. He grabs Harry's arms. “This is… This is something I have to do alone.”

Harry feels his eyes getting wet. “But—But, I want to help you! You're mine, I want to take care of you. Please, Sirius?” he begs, trying to move his hands like he saw his godfather do just moments ago. 

Sirius lets out a moan, clearly enjoying what Harry is doing, which only serves to encourage the young boy to redouble his efforts.

Between his legs he can feel his own prick start to get stiff too, and experimentally he tries rubbing against Sirius' legs under him.

“Mnnn,” he whines. It feels good, no wonder Sirius has been doing it so often.

Sirius tightens his hold on his arms, and Harry can’t help but let out a hiss of pain when his nails dig into his skin, which makes Sirius recoil and take his hands back. “Fuck, Harry, I didn’t mean to—Nnghh!”

One of Harry’s hands has moved up towards the tip of Sirius’ prick, his soft thumbs pressing against the spongy head, where a single drop of transparent liquid rests, while the other hand continues its movements normally.

“Your prick is so big, Sirius,” Harry can’t help but point out with awe, giggling when it twitches in his hold. “Will mine get just as big?”

Sirius doesn’t answer, too busy biting his own arm to stop himself from making any sound.

“Don’t do that!” Harry scolds him. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

Sirius whines, but stops hurting himself, giving Harry a pleading look as he does so.

“Harry, baby, I'm so close please, I can't—”

He stops himself from talking then, and Harry wonders if he’s even doing this right. “Should I suck on it?” he asks, recalling the magazines in Sirius' room, wondering if that would help Sirius even more.

Sirius eyes widen at his words, and then, his whole body shakes as he starts pissing all over them… Except, that's not pee… is it? It's that white stuff from the pictures, the one he was licking off his thumb. The white liquid is sticky and it covers harry’s hands, and chest, and he thinks there’s a little of it in his cheek, too,

Hesitantly, he brings a thumb covered in it to his mouth and gives it a small kitten lick, frowning slightly at the weird flavour.

Sirius whines loudly, and then collapses on the floor, panting, but relaxed, like a puppet with its strings cut, and Harry smiles to himself for a job well done.

“I'm going to hell,” Sirius groans.

Harry huffs. “No you're not. Only bad people go there, you're my good boy.”

His pet buries his head in his palms. “This was a one time thing, Harry, it can't happen again. Ever.”

Harry hums, lying down on top of him, uncaring about the sticky mess they’ve yet to clean up.

Yes it will, he thinks. If Harry has any say about it, he'll help Sirius every time he needs him.

He might need to study from those magazines first, though.

They don't even make it to a bed the next time they have sex.

It's early in the afternoon when Harry steps out of the train with a spring on his step, his smile widening as he sees an older man leaning on a pillar and reading a muggle magazine. His grey eyes read with a single-minded focus, and wrapped around his neck rests an emerald green leather collar with a golden clasp.

“Hey, Sirius!” the teen yells out as he makes his way through the platform, drawing the gazes of many concerned wizards and witches.

Harry ignores their frowns, however, much more focused on Sirius' eyes darkening with lust as he puts down his magazine and takes in the sight of him.

They haven't seen each other in person since before Easter break, Harry having to use the time to catch up after missing a week of classes. Having dragon pox had not been fun, that’s for sure, but in the end he managed to pass his N.E.W.T.s without much trouble. Oh, he won't get the results until later that summer, but under Hermione's tyrannical studying regime Harry doubts anyone in their friend group is getting anything less than an Acceptables in any of their exams.

It had been hard, for sure, not being able to see his lover in person for a while, but they still had the mirrors, their enchanted toys, and their love for each other to pull them through the nights apart.

(Also, Neville had promised to check if he was decent before opening his curtains in the middle of night.)

All of that is over now, this was his last term ever, so he and Sirius can finally be in each other's arms again.

“Missed me?” the older man asks him as soon as he greets him with a tight hug, his chin resting comfortably over his shoulder. Harry only nods, rubbing his face all over his neck, scenting him like his pet does to him when in dog form. He doubts he'll ever be as tall as Sirius, but this he can do with ease.

“I missed you, too,” his godfather tells him, the words whispered directly into his ears, and his low baritone sends shivers down Harry's spine.

They hug for longer than it's probably appropriate, and Harry struggles to stop his hands from moving lower, lower, and taking two handfuls of his lover's shapely arse, but it's unmistakably an intimate scene, and for that most of the eyes watching them eventually turn away, either in embarrassment or boredom. Whoever is still starring will find something more interesting to look at when Neville eventually comes out of the train, anyway. 

Harry might be more popular than he was before Hogwarts, but the Man-Who-Conquered still remains the main attraction of whichever room he happens to be in.

He doesn't wait to say goodbye to his friends, they already did that in their compartment, deciding it'd be best if they left one at a time to avoid the worst of the reporters that will inevitably hound them if they're all together.

They have plans to meet later that week for lunch, but today is just for him and Sirius.

They leave the magic side of the station leaning on each other, Sirius with his arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry with his hand inside Sirius' back pocket, hidden from view by his long coat, his suitcases are safe, shrunken inside his pockets, and he freed Hedwig earlier so she could make her way to their new home on her own. They could apparate if they wanted, but there's something about being casually out in the open that they both enjoy, now that they can.

On the muggle side of the station, Harry eyes a lonely men's bathroom, and he turns towards his godfather with mischief on his eyes.

“Hey, pet?” he calls, pointing with his head tilted towards it. “What do you say, one last time? For old time's sake?”

Sirius' lustful eyes tell him everything he needs to know, and soon the older man is dragging him towards the bathroom.

Outside of it, a locking noise can be heard, and after that, nothing.

It's probably their last time debauching this particular bathroom, and they're definitely going to make it count.

Almost an hour later, hidden from muggle eyes by a nifty little charm, two men exit a men's bathroom looking almost drunk. Their clothes are a mess, and neither of them can stop giggling.

The shorter man is wearing a long coat two or three sizes bigger than his own, and the taller man’s shirt is open almost all the way down to his navel, revealing a tattooed chest and a multitude of purple-red marks and bruises.

A dark green leather collar with golden studs hugs his neck, but oddly, it doesn't seem to have a clasp to open it anywhere in sight, and both him and the younger man, the one with the eyes that are the exact same colour as the collar, are wearing matching golden rings on their left hands.

They don't stop holding hands before they leave the station, or when they reach their home. 

If it is up to them, they probably won't stop holding each other at all.