Harry Potter Buildings Keep Crumbling

Title: Buildings Keep Crumbling  
>Rating: NC-17<br>Words: ~2,300  
>Warnings: Non-con (slightly graphic)<br>Summary: Remus faces his worst nightmare when Sirius comes back early from a date in Hogsmeade. But all is not always as it seems.  
>Disclaimer: None of the characters within are mine. I make no claim to own them.<p>

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><p>It is two days after the full, but Remus is still feeling weak. Although he is determined to attend classes, he spends the majority of his time before, between and after in the dormitory, comfortable in his bed, alternating between napping and catching up on missed lessons and homework. He turns the page of his Transfiguration textbook and sighs loudly. Although Transfiguration is far from his most difficult subject, he finds that the lessons always make more sense when McGonagall teaches them, rather than when he has to scour the text for the important bits of information. He frowns and scratches idly at a healing wound, turns to the next page. He glances at the door as it opens – sharing living quarters with three other 17 year olds means you get rather used to constant intrusions.<p>

Although he is expecting James to come upstairs soon – there is supposed to be a Quidditch match tomorrow and the star player will want his beauty rest – it is instead Sirius who enters through the door, shutting it quickly behind himself. Something looks slightly off and it takes Remus a moment to notice that the boy is wearing his school uniform. "Sirius," Remus says, dog-earring his page and closing the book, "I thought you were sneaking down to The Three Broomsticks with Kia." Kia is a fit girl, a year younger than them and always swooning over Sirius. Remus isn't sure why, but every time he sees her or hears about her or even thinks about her he wants to punch a wall – or something more human and easily brusiable.

"Who?" Sirius asks, quirking his eyebrow.

"Kia. You know…" Remus frowns when Sirius shows no signs of recognition. "Sirius, are you alright? And why have you changed?"

Sirius looks at his watch, one which Remus doesn't recognize, although it's not a surprise. Sirius has plenty of things that Remus doesn't recognize, coming from so much wealth. "What are you talking about? Have you lost it?" Sirius moves towards Remus' bed and glares down at him. Something is wrong.

"Did something go wrong on your date?" Remus asks, setting his book on his bed side table and sitting up carefully – his ribs are still bandaged.

"What? No." Sirius looks out the window and suddenly he is pressing his body against Remus', wet lips crushing against dry ones, fingers curling and pulling at his hair. Remus pushes back on his friend's chest, flushed with embarrassment. Sirius doesn't let go of his hair and for a moment they are stuck in their awkward tableau, Remus half sitting on the bed, Sirius stooped and attached to the werewolf's head by two outstretched arms.

Through the silence, Remus finds his nervous voice. "What are you doing Sirius?" But Sirius doesn't answer. He swoops again, mouth pressing to Remus' neck this time in an aggressive sucking gesture. Remus tries to push him off but Sirius is being stubborn, won't let go and is actually pushing himself bodily onto Remus. "You're hurting me," Remus says, proud of how calm he sounds when his heart is really fluttering anxiously in his throat. Sirius doesn't say anything but moves his hands from Remus' hair to his sleep shirt and fists the fabric. He has a glint in his eye that is unfamiliar and frightening to Remus, who is too shocked by the sudden turn of unexpected events to fight back when Sirius pulls him out of the bed and drops him – hard – onto the floor. Remus lands with a thud, his ass throbbing where it has hit the cold, stone floor. "What the fuck, Sirius?" he asks, hearing the anger and concern that has worked its way into his now wavering voice. He tries to get up, but his ribs are too sore and his wrist is aching again.

Sirius drops onto the floor next to Remus, agile like a cat – so dissimilar from the usual staccato movements he exhibits from day to day. He pushes Remus onto his back, using his forearm to hold the boy down when he struggles. His free hand grips the worn waistband of Remus' old pyjama pants and pushes them down to Remus' thighs. Remus grunts and hates himself for the furious flush on his face, embarrassment fighting with anger fighting with confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, hoping that maybe Sirius has some explanation that will mean this is all over now and Remus won't have to forgive him for anything.

But again, Sirius doesn't speak. He rolls Remus carelessly so that he is on his stomach, elbows banging on the ground as he goes, forehead smacking into one of the legs of his bed. Remus tries to right himself but there is a sudden heavy weight on the backs of his legs, hands on his ass cheeks, the sound of a zipper being undone. Suddenly he swells with anger and bucks up, feeling the sting of pain as his ribs crack with the exertion. But he knows now what Sirius is doing and there's no way he can let it happen. If he stops it now, he can forgive Sirius and they can still be friends, like nothing ever went wrong. He doesn't know if he'll be able to do the same if he allows Sirius to finish what he's begun. "Be still," Sirius murmurs, almost softly. A spell is muttered and Remus' hands are stayed behind his back, as though they have been tied there. With his legs trapped and his hands bound, he has no leverage. Still, he tries to buck as he feels Sirius moving behind him, hears the shifting of fabric, feels the unwelcome heat of an erection resting on the cleft of his ass.

"Sirius, don't do this, please. Why are you doing this? You don't have to." But Sirius ignores him, spits into his palm and Remus gags, not because of the spit but because he can't believe that Sirius is doing this to him, that Sirius is ruining one of the few dreams Remus has ever allowed himself to have. One hand presses on his ass cheek, pulls it to the side so that he is embarrassingly exposed. Remus mashes his face to the stone beneath him and ignores his tears, tells Sirius that he has to stop now if there's going to be any turning back. But Sirius doesn't stop. There's an awkward pressure on Remus' hole and then there's pain like he hadn't expected and grunting coming from behind him and it's all Remus can do not to let out a sob of angry protest. There's no turning back now.

If Sirius is anything, it's fast. He pushes only a few times into Remus before finishing, filling Remus and making him want to vomit at the realization of what his best friend, his crush of five years, has just done to him. He pulls out and actually wipes himself on Remus' sleep shirt before getting up. Remus feels his hands come undone but only lets them fall uselessly at his sides, unsure of what use they are to him now. He hears the rustle of fabric, knows that Sirius is dressing and adjusting himself. He doesn't turn, doesn't look up as Sirius leaves the room, shutting the door quietly. Remus swallows at the pathetic sadness in his chest, angry that he isn't angrier at Sirius. He sits carefully, ignoring the sickening pool of wetness beneath, not bothering to pull his pyjama pants up as he lifts his knees to his chest.

The door opens once more and Remus starts but it's only James. _Only James_. Remus lifts his hands to shield his face like a visor, leans forward so that he is looking at his knees. Maybe James won't notice him there. But his bespectacled friend is a horridly good observer when it comes to his mates and James rushes over, Remus can hear the worry in his every step. There is a hand on Remus' shoulder and he flinches before it's pulled away. "What happened?" James asks, quieter than Remus thinks he's ever heard him before.

"I don't know," Remus says, the previous calm returning to his voice even though he is crying harder than before.

"Why are you…like this?" James doesn't know how to put the situation into words.

Silence knocks back and forth between the two of them, a tennis volley of unspoken words, for what feels like an hour before Remus finds it in himself to look up. James is knelt awkwardly in front of him, looking at Remus with something akin to pity and revulsion. Remus shakes his head and looks back down – he doesn't need to see James' face to know what his friend is thinking. "Sirius," he says, wiping his eyes on his pyjama pants. "Sirius happened."

James gasps but doesn't refute what Remus has said. He reaches out once more, hands gently coming to grasp at Remus' elbows. "Why don't we get you up off the floor?" he says. Remus nods and rises with some difficulty, glancing down at the miniscule pool that has formed where he was sitting. It felt so much bigger than that. James looks at it for a moment before pulling his eyes away and bending to help Remus get his pyjama pants back on. He assists his friend as he settles on the bed. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing?" Remus shakes his head and lifts one of his hands to his mouth to worry at a hangnail. "Do you want me to get McGonagall?" Remus shakes his head once more. James begins to turn for the door, saying, "Well I'll just-" But Remus' hand shoots out to grab at James' wrist.

"Please don't tell anyone, Prongs. Please."

James nods. "I was just going to go to the bathroom to get a towel so I could clean you off." Remus drops his hand from James' wrist but doesn't say anything. He closes his eyes and James takes that as his permission to leave. It doesn't take more than two minutes for James to come sprinting back with a warm, damp towel. He gives it to Remus, unsure of what boundaries he's allowed to cross. Remus takes it with a muttered thank you and pulls his curtains shut so that he can have some privacy. He hears James' voice saying "Scourgify," just outside the veil.

The door to the dormitory opens again and Remus stiffens when he hears James' voice. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I live here," Sirius says indignantly, and despite himself, Remus feels some ease seep back into his tense muscles at the voice.

"Not anymore, you don't. You'd better find somewhere else to stay unless you want me to kill you in your sleep."

"What the fuck are you on about?" Remus can hear Sirius moving about his own bed, right next to where Remus' curtains are closed. His voice isn't yet defensive, it sounds as though he doesn't know if James is serious or joking.

"You know exactly what I'm on about. I'll let you get some pyjamas before you go. But try anything and I swear, I'll have your bollocks."

"What is going on? Why are Moony's curtains shut?" Footsteps move towards Remus' bed and he cringes, clutching the damp cloth to his chest, feeling the moisture ink through the soft cotton of his shirt.

"Don't play daft, Sirius. You know exactly what's going on." Remus knows he has let this go on far too long.

"It's okay, James," he says, still behind his curtains. "Sirius can stay. I'll be okay."

"Don't be ridiculous, Remus," James' voice calls. "I don't want him in here either."

"What did I do?" Sirius asks and Remus' curtains are pulled open. Over the sound of Sirius' gasp and Remus' yelp, he can hear James shouting.

"Leave him alone!"

"Moony, what happened to you?" Sirius is asking, crouching to brush his thumb over what must be a split lip. Remus flinches and pulls back before noticing that Sirius is wearing his clothes from earlier – his date with Kia. He has worn denims and a green t-shirt on, a frown clouding his face. "Moony?" he says, but doesn't move to touch Remus again.

"Did you change?" Remus asks quietly. "Just to fuck with me?" He laughs at the ironic pun and chokes on his own laughter.

"What are you talking about?"

"When you were in here before you were wearing your robes." Remus frowns.

"Before my date? Yeah, but then I changed, remember? You were in here, studying."

"I mean, just now. When you left."

"Remus," Sirius says, face twisting with what looks likes honest confusion. "I left two hours ago. I just got back." Remus stares at Sirius, searching for some way to believe him, some way to be able to be friends once more. But there is a throbbing pain where he sits, one that he has never felt before and the honesty he sees in his tormentor's face could easily be faked. As they stare at each other, each contemplating the other, James watches silently, carefully, ready to step in should Sirius strike once more.

The door opens and three heads turn at once to look at Peter as he comes in, panting heavily. "I was dropping those dungbombs in the Slytherin corridor, checking the map. Filch caught me and took me to his office but before he did, I saw something." He took a moment to catch his breath, shutting the door so that he could lean against it. "What was Snape doing in here earlier?"


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Drama