InsaneJournal

Another Day

                He can remember the smells and the feel of the grime on his body, of his own waste, his own blood, his own vomit. He doesn't bathe as often as he did before Azkaban, but will when prompted. It's just something he forgets to do. Doesn't really feel much of a need.

                No one likes him anyway. He makes a low keening noise and hugs the blanket tight around himself. Buckbeak makes a disgusted noise, and Sirius knows that someone's cue to come up and bother him. To try and cheer him up. As if that wasn't impossible!

                It's Remus. It's always Remus. He'll step into the room and he'll sit on the side of the bed quietly, sometimes just stroking Sirius's hair or rambling on about this and that until Sirius finally relaxes. He's sung him lullabies before, but they don't talk about that. At all. It'd wound the pride of both of them.

                Sirius doesn't even open his eyes, expecting Remus. It's not Remus.

                "Your house-elf sent me up," says Snape and he just stares at Sirius for a while.

                "Fuck!" cries Sirius, and his eyes snap open. He stares right back at Snape. "Well, have a good look, then, at poor, broken Sirius, won't you?" he gasps through his tears, feeling lower than low.

                "Who would you like me to send for?" is all Snape says, and he's grateful. Snape has his wand out, preparing to send a Patronus.

                Sirius inhales sharply, though, not having expected it. "Um . . . er . . . Albus," he says miserably after a moment. "If not him, Dung or Arthur."

                Snape casts the Patronus, and if Sirius weren't so down he'd be amused that it's a stupid fucking female deer. It's a bloody doe. Snape shoots him a warning glance, but he's not in the mood to make fun, as just stated, so the silence that ensues is almost companionable. After all, now they can both be ashamed of themselves. Oh joy.

                Footsteps sound on the stairs almost immediately, and the door creaks open to reveal Albus Dumbledore. Albus moves over to the bed, acknowledging and dismissing Snape both with a single nod, and then he slides off his boots and slips under the blanket to hold Sirius to his chest.

                Sirius lets out a sob, turning to bury his face in the long, silver beard, knowing he's getting snot and drool and who knows what else in it, but not at all caring. Albus just holds him tighter.

                It's a while before he falls asleep, exhausted, right in Albus's steady arms, but it happens. When he wakes up, Albus is there with some food on a tray hovering above them, and he settles into the offered embrace silently. Albus says nothing, but he can tell the man has taken at least half the day off for his sake. He snuggles for a moment, staring blankly at the items on the tray.

                "It's laced, isn't it?" he asks dully.

                "Not everything," says Albus, and he hands a piece of toast to Sirius, spread thick with soft butter, and Sirius's stomach grumbles and he grumbles as well as he takes the piece, but he's grateful. It's still gloriously warm, and the butter is dripping onto the duvet as it melts, and he rests his head against that beard and a sturdy shoulder as he eats.

                After another slice of toast, he raises the spoon. "To Calming Draughts," he says, and he feels Albus chuckle underneath him, the vibrations almost pleasant in his unpleasant haze. He feels a bit better after the first mouthful.

                "There are Cheering Charms in the muffins, but you don't like them anyway," says Albus. He presses a kiss to the back of Sirius's head, nuzzling unwashed hair.

                "For a bastard, you're quite considerate." He has a feeling Albus is grinning.

                "All finished?"

                Sirius nods, and neither of them mention the fact that the muffins remain. Albus, however, takes a small bite. If he gets addicted, that's not Sirius's problem.

                A wave of the wand pushes the tray out of their way, and Albus opens his arms to Sirius again, holding him. After a long while, Sirius turns to him, and before he can say a word, Albus shakes his head.

                "I'm not going to hurt you when you're like this."

                "Can't blame a guy for trying," says Sirius shakily and he sits up properly, taking deep, calming breaths.

                "Shh," Albus says, and he gets to his feet, gently tugging at Sirius's hand to get him to follow. He goes into the bathroom, and Sirius frowns at the tub, which Albus enlarges to three times its regular size. "After you, my dear," he says, filling the tub with warm, soapy water.

                Sirius sighs, resigning himself to his fate. He lets Albus help him out of his pants and his socks, and then he sinks into the water slowly. When he's fully immersed he moans.

                "See? There's nothing so warm as a hot bath." Albus himself sheds his clothing, wand still in hand as he sits behind him. He washes Sirius slowly and lovingly, until Sirius feels much too clean, palms and soles all dry from sitting too long in the water, and demands to be released. He stomps out of the tub, to a smile from Albus, then dries himself off with a towel Albus Conjures for him.

                "Go lie back down," says Albus, and he washes himself. Sirius doesn't move, though, preferring to witness it, and then seeming to race toward the bed to beat Albus to it.

                "Budge up," says Albus, and Sirius moves over a bit to let him into the bed again. They lie together, not saying anything, hair dampening the pillows, the silence more or less companionable.

                "Would you like me to touch you, Sirius?" Albus asks finally. He turns to look at Sirius.

                Sirius considers it for a moment, and then nods, spreading his legs a bit, gazing up at Albus, who pulls him into another embrace, this one wet from his long, silver beard that is still dripping. Sirius doesn't mind, in fact he likes it. He pulls Albus down on top of him, rubbing up against the man through the beard.

                Albus kisses Sirius softly on the forehead, his own prick rubbing against Sirius's thigh, and it's on the edge of fairly raw until he waves the wand and gentle, soothing lubricant surrounds their pricks.

                "Have to wash your beard again," muttered Sirius.

                "You're going to come into it anyway, aren't you?" Albus grins. "Just this, or do you want more?"

                "Well, you refused . . . to hurt me," Sirius whines, bottom lip pouting out handsomely.

                "I like you safe and whole when you're in a depression, I will admit." He traces Sirius's cheek lightly with his fingertips. "Can you blame me?"

                "Yes," Sirius groans, sighing. "I want you to fuck me."

                "I refuse to make you bleed."

                "If I didn't think you'd be pissed . . . I'd Imperio you into it," muttered Sirius. "Fine. Just give it to me 'nicely'. What are we . . . lovers? Albus . . . we are substitutes for loves lost and never found."

                "Quite," said Albus, but he held Sirius's hips still and pulled his legs up, pressing his nose between Sirius's buttocks.

                "Oh, no, Albus, don't—"

                "Shh," whispers Albus, breath playing right over Sirius's hole, and he shudders. "Let me."

                Sirius falls silent, in words at least, beginning to moan eventually as the wonderful sensation of the tongue inside of him causes his body to thrum, making him feel truly alive like only sex and a few other things can.

                Albus stops eventually, sitting up to press himself into Sirius without any further preparation.

                "Hgn!" Sirius cries out. He grips Albus around the waist with his legs. "Ah!"

                "Tell me to stop if it is too much," says Albus quietly, but there's something untamed about the tone of his voice, and it sends a shiver up Sirius's spine.

                "Don't hit my spot. Please," Sirius pleads, looking up at him.

                Albus bows his head acquiescently. "Certainly, love." He pulls out and pushes back in, pace soon rather punishing, avoiding Sirius's prostate.

                "Mmmm," moans Sirius and he tosses his head, even while his prick is deflating and the pain is enveloping him. "Yes . . . yes . . . mm."

                Albus reaches down to grasp the deflating shaft, stroking it in time with his thrusting, surrounding the cock with his still-damp beard as he tugs at it.

                "Oh yesssssssss," Sirius hisses, and his whole body goes taught with the sensations overwhelming him. He takes quick, deep breaths in through his nose, trying to retain his sanity as he nears the edge.

                "I'm sorry," mutters Albus as he sends three quick, hard thrusts into Sirius's prostate.

                Sirius cries out, "Bastard!" as he comes.

                "You . . . already knew that," Albus groans and, gripping at the thighs surrounding him, he finishes as well, sliding out of Sirius to glance down at his prick warily.

                "You hurt me," says Sirius in awe, staring down at the bit of blood he can see, unwrapping his legs from the man, gazing up at him in wonderment.

                Albus sighs, rubbing at his forehead for a moment. "I just couldn't deny you your penance," he says, and accepts Sirius's offered hand.

                "Thank you," whispers Sirius.

                "You think you'll be alright now?" says Albus, casting spells to clean them and to heal Sirius.

                "For now," Sirius murmurs, smiling softly as Albus leans in to kiss his nose.

                "You're not a substitute, Sirius. You are your own part of my heart." He slowly rises and begins to dress. Hearing a choked sort of sound, he knows he's made Sirius cry again. Ah, but it needed to be said.