Title:
Wanna Touch
Author:
Deirdre
Riordan
Pairing:
Harry/Sirius
Rating:
NC-17
Disclaimer:
Not
mine. If they were, I could afford to get sued. As it is, I'm a broke
college
student and I couldn't pay you if I wanted to.
Warning:
This
story contains explicit s-e-x
between two adult males. Please respect the law. It also contains
improper (read: American) use of the word 'pants.' I'm sorry.
Challenge:
110. Post Voldie: Harry lives with Sirius. Harry has a secret hobby:
cross-dressing. How does Sirius react when he comes upon his godson
wearing a very racy number? (Camilla Bloom)
Feedback:
deirdre.riordan @ gmail . com (remove spaces).
Are
you over 18?
[no]....[yes]
Wanna
Touch
*Lipstick,
check.
Mascara, check. Rouge, check. Earrings,
check. Now for
the shoes.* Harry carefully removed his brand new patent leather
stiletto heels
from their hiding place in the back of the closet and slid them onto
his feet.
Perfect. He loved it when he knew Sirius would be gone all day. If he
hadn't
been a wizard, perhaps he would have had his own drag show. Or at least
gone to
amateur night once in a while. Not that he never
had,
but he was always too scared to sign up. However, he practised his
routine
regularly, just in case. Maybe once he'd finally gotten disguise spells
down.
As it was, though, he couldn't afford that kind of publicity if anyone
were to
see him.
He
grabbed the
Joan Jett CD and ran downstairs. Yes, this was indeed a good day off.
He
shuddered to think what anyone down at the Ministry would say if they
saw him.
Well, Seamus would probably like it, but...that was Seamus. He shook
the
thoughts of professional repercussions out of his mind, closed the
drapes, and
put on the CD. He turned it up all the way and went full-on into his
dance
routine. It wasn't that much harder with the heels.
"Do
you wanna touch-- yeah!
Do you
wanna touch-- yeah!
Do you
wanna touch me the-ere!"
He
belted out the
song, going through the thrusts and turns of the dance he'd spent
months
creating. This would be a thousand times better with a partner, he
thought.
Sirius, in nothing but those hot leather pants of his. In his
fantasies, he and
Sirius were stage partners. But then one night, Harry would look much
hotter
than usual for some reason, and after the show Sirius would push him
backstage,
lift his skirt and pull his lacy panties to his knees and fuck him
senseless.
He got hard every time he thought about that. He'd wanted Sirius for
about as
long as he could remember. Probably before he even knew what it was to
want
someone. If only Sirius would want him back.... Even if he could just
have him
for one night. *Yes, he'd unlace my corset with his teeth and kiss my
ankles
through the fishnets.* And then... well, it
always
ended with Sirius pulling Harry's lacy panties to his knees and fucking
him
senseless. Preferably bent over a tabletop. *Ooh,
or maybe
the motorcycle...*
*Uh-oh.*
It was
almost five. Sirius would be home any minute. Harry retrieved the CD
and ran
upstairs. He carefully hid away his clothes and jumped into the shower.
As soon
as he was locked in with the water on, his hands immediately went to
his
still-engorged cock. When he was all warm and wet like this, he could
almost
believe that his hands were Sirius' mouth. Just thinking about that
aroused him
even more. He came hard, slipping and hitting his arm on the side of
the tub.
Damn, that was going to leave a mark.
He
heard footsteps
running up the stairs. "Harry? You okay in there?" Sirius was home.
"Yeah,
I'm
fine, I just slipped," Harry managed to call back.
Sirius
muttered
something Harry couldn't hear and went back downstairs.
After
checking and
re-checking that no trace of makeup remained on his face, Harry got
dressed and
went downstairs to help Sirius cook dinner.
When
he entered
the kitchen, Sirius had his head in the fridge, so all he could see was
that
lovely, lovely bum of his. He was probably the only man in the Ministry
who
could get away with wearing leather pants to work. "Have a good day
off?" Sirius asked, still rummaging.
Harry
laughed
nervously. He was always afraid Sirius suspected something. "Oh, yeah,
you
know, just bummed around the house, wrote a couple of letters. Nothing
interesting. How about you, did I miss anything good?"
Sirius
emerged
from the fridge, handing him a beer. "Nope. Highlight of the day was
Seamus 'accidentally' spilling a cup of coffee of Draco's crotch. Damn
boring
without any supervillains to chase."
"Gee,
sorry,
if I'd known you were going to be so bored, I'd never have offed
Voldemort."
Sirius
laughed.
Gods, his smile was lovely. "Yeah, Harry, why'd you have to go and save
the world?"
"So,
what's
for dinner?"
"Always
evading the blame. Well, we've got mayonnaise, an egg, and something I
won't
attempt to identify. I thought you were going to go grocery shopping
today."
Oops.
In all the
excitement of makeup and leather, Harry had completely forgotten.
"Sorry," he said, blushing. "I just couldn't make myself do
anything useful. I'll go tomorrow."
"Saving
the
world, forgetting to go to the store, what the hell am I going to do
with
you?"
"Ummm, take me out for curry?" Harry said, trying
his
best to look cute and innocent.
Sirius
laughed.
"Sure. Which of London's millions of curry
establishments shall
we grace with our custom this evening?"
"That
place
down by Angel? We could go to Filthy McNasty's
after."
"What's
your
fascination with that place anyway?"
Harry
shrugged.
"I dunno. I guess I like the name."
They
Apparated to
Diagon Alley and got on the tube at Charing Cross. Sirius grumbled-- he hated the
Underground, but
Harry always insisted on taking it whenever they went muggle places.
"All
the squeaking and knocking about, I don't know, it just makes me fear
for my
life for some reason," Sirius had once explained. But he knew Harry
loved
the Underground, so he obliged him in most cases.
They
had a huge
meal and left over-spiced and satisfied. After the three-block walk to
Filthy McNasty's, they discovered it quite
mysteriously closed.
"Dammit!" Harry said. "I hate it when
they do that! Why doesn't anybody ever post bloody business hours
around
here?"
"So
they
don't have to keep them if they don't want to, I imagine."
"So,
what
now? Home?"
"Nah,
it's
Saturday night, and we're already out, so we might as well make the
most of it.
We find a bar, we drink till we think we can dance, and then we go to a
club
and test the theory."
"I'm
not
really dressed for it," Harry said, looking down at his jeans and
trainers. Truthfully, he was just afraid of what he might accidentally
reveal
about his feelings if he danced with Sirius, especially while drunk.
"Are
you a
wizard or aren't you? Transfiguration? Remember that?"
"Oh
yeah," Harry muttered. He should really have thought of a better excuse.
"So,
back to
the tube, we get a copy of Time Out, we get a few drinks, and then we
go make
arses of ourselves till all hours," Sirius said decisively and started
back toward the tube station.
Harry
followed
with resignation and a little bit of apprehension. He supposed he'd
just have
to get so pissed he wouldn't be able to get it up, thereby avoiding any
embarrassing
situations on the dance floor. They hadn't gone clubbing just the two
of them
in ages. They usually went with Ron and Remus or some other friends,
and Harry
always managed to skilfully avoid dancing with Sirius except during
very fast
songs that prevented physical contact.
They
soon ended up
in Camden Town in the Elephant's Head, a copy
of Time Out
open between them. Sirius was reading through the listings as Harry
gulped down
beer, surreptitiously spelling his glass full every couple of minutes.
"Let's
see...
Eighties at House of Fun... techno...techno....techno...more eighties,
hey,
what about this School Disco thing?"
"Ugh,
no, I
hate those!"
"Okay,
okay.
Does any of this sound good at all?"
"It
seems to
be eighties or techno. Is there anything on at the Connexion?"
"I
don't see
a listing. Do you want to go anyway?"
"Sure,
I'd
probably rather not know what I'm getting into."
Sirius
called the
club to see what to wear and came back looking bewildered. "He said...
think 2025 meets glitter and has a bastard child with Johnny Rotten.
What's
that supposed to mean?"
"Probably
exactly what it sounds like. Futuristic and glittery and punky.
Should be easy enough. Besides, if we don't look like anyone else in
the queue
we can always change."
"Right.
Well,
we'd better get down to drinking, then."
"Don't
you
think we should do our outfits before we're drunk?"
"You
have a
point. Let's go change in the gents' here and then go to another pub."
They
agreed to do
each other's outfits. Harry transfigured Sirius' clothing into tight
red
leather pants, a white blazer with no shirt underneath, and a pair of
tall leather boots covered in metal. He completed the outfit with red
glittery
wrist cuffs and equally glittery eyeliner. "Hey, not bad," Sirius
said, looking in the mirror. Your turn."
Harry
ended up
wearing a pair of skintight white trousers
with straps
that crisscrossed all the way up the legs, a white fishnet and leather
shirt,
and a pair of pointy green boots with studs up the sides. Then he added
green
leather gauntlets that reminded Harry of his old Quidditch guards, and
sparkly
green and white eyeliner. Sirius circled him for a minute, thinking.
Then he
waved his wand one final time, and Harry yelped as he felt his nice
comfy
boxers turn into a g-string. "What'd you do that for?"
Sirius
giggled.
"You had the worst underwear lines I've ever seen."
"How
come you
don't?"
"I was
wearing a thong to begin with," he said with a shrug.
That
was a picture
Harry could have done without having in his head, especially
considering the
tightness of his pants. He managed to banish the thought from his head
before
it could do any damage, though, and they set about fixing their hair.
Harry
added green streaks in his and straightened it enough for it to behave.
Sirius
did red and blond streaks and pulled it back, letting the front of it
hang in
his eyes. "Well, I'd say we look pretty hot," Sirius said when they
had finished. "Let's go to that goth
bar down the road, we'll look like complete weirdoes in any of these
traditional places."
It was
true, they fit right in at the goth
bar. To top that off, the vodka was incredibly cheap there. Finally ten
o'clock
rolled around and they decided they'd
probably better be getting on their way to Islington if they didn't
want to
spend the rest of the night in a queue. Harry was nicely buzzed---
okay,
bordering on legless--- and that made the tube right pretty
entertaining, at
least for him. He couldn't stop giggling about the message someone had
scrawled
on one of the doors of the carriage-- "Noisy doors are unacceptable."
They
reached the
club and joined the queue. It was long, but it seemed to be moving
fairly
quickly. Soon they got within earshot of the bouncer and learned why
the queue
was so fast. Whoever was working the door tonight was not being very
lenient.
There was one bouncer making the judgements and another pushing away
those not
deemed worthy, keeping them from standing about and arguing. There was
about
one "okay, go" for every four or five declarations of "not with
that hair," or "you call those trousers?" Harry hoped they'd get
in, but at the same time, he'd be quite relieved if they didn't. When
it was
their turn, the bouncer looked them over for a second. Then he said
"Hmm,
very nice," and ushered them in.
"Are
we good
or what?" Sirius said gleefully once they were inside waiting at the
queue
to pay. "None of those other sods got a very nice!"
Harry
just nodded,
now nervous beyond belief. He was going to need a few more drinks.
Ten-pound
entry fee extorted, they descended the stairs into the club proper. The
reason
for the bouncer's selectiveness was apparent. The place was already
packed. But
every person there was carefully dressed in elaborate outfits and
makeup, and
Harry couldn't find a single one who wasn't attractive. He insisted he
needed
more drinks before he could dance, so he and Sirius made their way to
the main
bar a couple of rooms away so they could sit (or at least lean) without
being
danced on too much. The main bar, however, was much transformed. A
catwalk had
been set up and there was a woman lip-synching to Abba in front of a
crowd of
appreciative onlookers. Wait, that wasn't a woman. This was a drag
show. Harry
had never had any idea that something like this ever went on here.
"Well,
looks
like we've got entertainment," Sirius said.
"Sort
of," Harry said, laughing nervously. Well, at least he could see how
Sirius reacted to boys in dresses. He ordered the most alcoholic drink
he could
think of and joined Sirius at the table.
"How
is
it?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Sirius
shrugged.
"I've seen more talented queens, but she's not bad. Abba's so
cliché,
though."
"You
like
this stuff?"
"Sure.
Though
seeing the Lady Chablis kind of ruined me for everyone else."
Harry
had heard of
the Lady Chablis, and he was absolutely astonished that Sirius seemed
to be
such a drag connoisseur. He did his best to hide his excited reaction,
though.
"You ever done it?"
"Who,
me?
Just once for laughs back in school, it was awful. But I really
appreciate the
art of it. I mean, just think, these people have to transform
themselves
entirely, but they don't have anything like magic at their disposal."
Harry
was
heartened by Sirius' appreciation, but he figured this probably wasn't
the time
for any big revelations. He downed his drink even faster than his
previous ones
and went back to the bar for another. "You guys do this a lot here?"
he asked the bartender.
He
nodded.
"Yeah, every other Saturday. And the last Wednesday of the month we
have
an amateurs' contest. Stay away on those nights if you don't like Abba,
let me
tell you. I think I've learned their entire discography by now. That's
six quid
for the Long
Island,
mate."
Harry
gave the man
his money and went back to Sirius, who was staring so intently at the
next act
that he didn't even seem to notice Harry's arrival. He wondered if
Sirius would
like his routine. *No, just keep that little secret to yourself.* Although the mention of an amateur night did
sound tempting,
as always. The last Wednesday of the month was the following week.
Maybe he
could actually work up the balls to sign up. Maybe. He knew nobody from
the
Ministry ever bothered to venture as far into muggle London as Islington without him. They
mostly
stayed at the bigger places by Leicester Square, since it was an easy walk from
Charing
Cross
and nobody over there was too selective.
Merlin, they couldn't afford to be with the sorts of bizarre tourists
with
money to burn who tended to show up at those clubs. Even with his
guidance, he
was hard pressed even to get them as far as Oxford Street. This place would probably be
safe. He
could probably get Tuesday off to practise,
he knew
Sirius had a big department meeting that day. Yes, maybe he could do
it, just
maybe. Shit, that meant he had to definitively choose his stage name.
He'd been
going back and forth for months between Stella Revolution and Lola
Profane. His
deliberations were interrupted by a set break that brought Sirius back
to
earth.
"You
ready to
dance now, Harry?"
"Yeah,
I
think I could give it a go. Unless you'd rather watch the show."
"Nah,
I'd
rather dance."
They
moved from
the bar into one of the rooms reserved for dancing. The music was an
interesting mix, going from the Clash to Blondie to David Bowie to the
Specials. Not the sort of thing Harry was really used to hearing in
clubs, but
he danced to it happily, as it was the kind of stuff he liked and
didn't
require one to be particularly close to one's partner. After half an
hour of
thrashing and skanking, Sirius suggested
checking out
what they were playing in the other rooms. They passed through a techno
room,
which neither of them had any particular interest in, then through a
70s room
that caused Harry to make faces. Finally they arrived in a room where
the DJ
was mixing reggae and hip-hop, which seemed like an okay compromise.
They
grabbed more drinks and had a rest before dancing. When their glasses
were
empty, the music immediately changed tempo. Harry had to wonder if
somebody up
there had it in for him. The song was slow and the dance floor was full
of
couples grinding against one another. Harry cursed his luck as Sirius
pulled
him to his feet. Not that he hadn't always wanted
to dance
with Sirius like that, but he couldn't trust his body not to
betray him.
"Sirius,
I'm
not very good at this kind of dancing," he shouted over the music.
Sirius
laughed and
pulled Harry against him. "Just have fun."
Halfway
through
the song, Harry truly began to feel his intoxication, and began not to
care
what his body did or didn't to, just enjoying the feeling of having
Sirius so
close to him. The way they were dancing wasn't too suggestive, as Harry
was
still being careful to avoid contact of a terribly dangerous sort.
Sirius went
off to the toilet after a while and Harry took that opportunity to get
another
drink. As he was walking away from the bar, he was accosted by a
perfectly
gorgeous boy with spiky blond hair.
"Want
to
dance?" the guy asked.
"I'm
waiting
for my friend, he's just gone to the
toilet."
"Have
you
seen the queue? We've got time for a dance."
Harry
couldn't say
no to the gorgeous smile. And he couldn't help thinking the bloke
looked
somewhat familiar, but he figured he'd probably just seen him about
town. London was funny that way. Huge as
anything, but
you somehow managed to always run into the same people. The blond took
his hand
and led him onto the dance floor. With him, Harry let himself go,
grinding
against him shamelessly. "You're lovely," the blond said in his ear,
twisting long fingers into his hair.
"So
are
you," Harry said, daring to kiss his neck. He was rewarded with a moan,
so
he did it again, kissing his way up until
soft lips
met his own. He wore the same cologne as Sirius. His eyes closed, he
could
almost believe he was kissing Sirius. He felt terrible projecting this
fantasy
onto a complete stranger, but he figured this bloke would never know.
Just a
bit of fun after all. Wouldn't be the first time, anyway. Harry made
out with
the blond for what felt like ages. When he opened his eyes, he was
astonished
not to see tanned skin and black hair in front of him. Blushing
furiously, he
realised what he'd been doing and backed away, stuttering. "I--I've gotta go," he said, and bolted, pushing his way
through the crowd without waiting for an answer.
He
collided
directly with Sirius, who had a strange smile on his face. "Back so
soon?
It looked like you were having fun over there."
"Sorry,"
Harry stuttered, "I didn't mean to leave you all alone like that. It
was
just... well... I'm sorry."
Sirius
put a
brotherly hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, it's
okay."
"Sorry,
it's
just... I..."
Sirius
frowned.
"Did he try something you didn't want him to? If so, I'll go deck him
right now. Nobody messes with my godson."
Harry
shook his
head, near tears. His godson. Was that all Sirius thought of him as?
"No,
nothing like that. I don't know, I'm not usually so slutty,
that's all," he managed weakly.
"Pshaw.
It's
a bloody nightclub, Harry. Nightclubs are for kissing strangers and not
having
to worry about it the next day. You didn't do anything even remotely slutty. God knows I've done worse."
Harry
definitely
did not want to know about that. "Do you want to go back to the first
room
we were in? I don't feel like dealing with that guy right now."
"Sure,
let's
go."
Once
back to where
they started, Harry loosened back up. They drank more and danced until
three or
four in the morning. Knackered and drunk, they staggered out laughing
like
idiots to catch a night bus back to Charing Cross. They floo'd
back home from
the Leaky Cauldron, since neither of them was right enough in the head
to be
able to Apparate properly. Once home they sat down on the couch with
huge
glasses of water, exhausted beyond belief. Neither made it as far as
his
bedroom.
Harry
woke up at
some point the next day with a horrible pounding in his head and no
feeling in
his feet. Somebody moved under him. *Oh, shit, who'd I come home with?*
He
thought, panicking. He twisted his head around slowly. It was Sirius he
was
lying on top of, his arms wrapped around Harry's waist. *Did we...?*
The night suddenly came back to Harry, most of it anyway. *No, we
didn't.
Damn.* He had to pee and he couldn't feel his feet.
"Sirius."
"Hmmmm?" Sirius murmured, not opening his eyes.
"Wake
up."
After
a series of
protests, he finally got Sirius to open his eyes and help him get his
boots
off. "Some night, huh?" Sirius said, rubbing his eyes. He looked
quizzically at the eyeliner that came away on his fingers and then
shrugged,
wiping it on his pants. "Wow, you look shagged."
"So do
you.
How come there's dwarves tap-dancing on my brain?"
Sirius
laughed
momentarily and then groaned and grabbed his own head. "I think we
drank
too much."
Harry
fumbled his
wand out of the gauntlets he was still wearing and pointed it at
Sirius' head.
"Clarus Cerebrum." Sirius gave a sigh of
relief and performed the same spell on Harry. Somehow it just didn't
work as
well when one did it on oneself. Heads cleared and pain gone, Harry
headed for
the shower while Sirius made coffee.
Despite
the fact
that his hangover was gone, Harry was still incredibly tired and
sluggish. It
took him forever to do the simplest things. He couldn't even be
bothered to
properly get dressed, just throwing on a pair of jeans. He was also
starving.
He went down to the kitchen, thinking of toast. Sirius was there,
sipping
coffee, his eyes unfocused. "All yours," Harry said, pouring himself
a cup.
Sirius
stood up
with a grunt. "I would have made breakfast, but we still haven't got
any
food."
"Ah, shite. My fault. I guess we'll have to go to the
store."
"I
don't
think I'd be able to wait that long. Why don't you floo
Remus and look really cute and see if he'll feed us."
"Mmmm, food." His energy bolstered by the thought
of
actual breakfast, he tossed some floo
powder into the
kitchen fire. "Remus Lupin!"
Remus
appeared,
looking amused. "Good morning, Harry. Or should I say good
afternoon?"
"Hey
Remus,
what's up?"
"Oh,
not
much. Am I to assume that since you're flooing
me on
a Sunday afternoon with the look of just having gotten up, this means
you're
yet again out of food and want to come over for breakfast?"
"Well...."
Harry tried to look sweet and charming.
"I
thought as
much. I was going to invite you guys anyway, I'm making waffles. Come
on over
whenever you're ready."
"Thanks,
Remus! See you soon." Remus disappeared. "SIRIUS! WAFFLES!"
Harry shouted up the stairs.
Sirius
was down in
record time and they were soon in Remus' kitchen. Remus laughed when he
saw
them. "Well, I see you didn't bother to waste time getting dressed,"
he said, looking from one shirtless man to the other.
"Sorry,
we
were hungry."
"How
do you
guys always manage to run out of food at such inconvenient times?"
"Because
my
dolt of a godson is too lazy to go to the store on his day off," Sirius
said, punching him in the arm.
Harry
had the
grace to look sheepish. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Hey,
don't
worry about it, it got us waffles," Sirius said with a grin.
"Speaking of which..."
"It's
all
ready," Remus said.
They
sat down and
he served them each a waffle, topped with a huge scoop of cinnamon ice
cream
and chopped bananas. Harry and Sirius demolished two each within a
matter of
minutes, along with a fairly massive quantity of tea. At some point
Sirius
excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving Harry with Remus.
"So,
what
exactly did you two do last night?"
"Well,
it
started out as just dinner since we didn't have any food, but then we
decided
we might as well make a night of it. So we went to a bar, then another
bar,
then the club."
"And?"
"And...what?" Harry was genuinely confused.
"You
were
both drunk, right?"
"Dead
right,
I don't think I've been that pissed since....well, okay, so New Years
wasn't
that long ago, but still. So 'and' what? What are you getting at
anyway?"
Remus
shrugged.
"Clubs, drunkenness, thing happen."
"Okay,
so I
kissed a blond, but that was really it. What, were you thinking we woke
up next
to mysterious strangers or something?"
"Well,
not
exactly, but---" he heard the bathroom door open. "Oh, never
mind."
"Never
mind
what?" Sirius asked, coming into the room.
"That's
what
I'd like to know," Harry said. "Remus is being cryptic again."
Sirius
glared at
his friend, who now had an angelic smile plastered on his face. "Me?
Cryptic? But Sirius, may is the grub of the
pitchforks
of goon."
Sirius
squinted at
him and then just shook his head.
Through
the rest
of the afternoon, Harry racked his brain trying to figure out what
Remus had
been trying to say. Other than the pitchforks bit, that is, which he
was pretty sure was just rubbish. The best he could work out, somewhere
between the
frozen
food section and the checkout of the supermarket,
was
that Remus wanted to know if something happened between him and Sirius.
But why
would it? As much as Harry would love it, he just couldn't see Sirius
feeling
that way about him. Especially with his constant references to the fact
that
Harry was his godson-- it seemed like he was trying to remind him or
something,
trying to subtly tell him it was off-limits. He really needed to find a
new
fixation. Maybe he should have spent a little more time with that blond.
As
Wednesday drew
closer, Harry became increasingly antsy. Taking off work to practise
was the
easy part. The hard part was making up an excuse about where he was
going and
why Sirius couldn't come. The key was making it so that Sirius wouldn't
want to
come. So what wouldn't Sirius want to do? Something really boring.
Something
really boring at night. The opera. Perfect. Wait, Harry didn't like the
opera.
Therefore, there had to be someone forcing him to go. Who would force
him to go
to the opera? Hermione. Of course. She'd lie for him, wouldn't she? Oh,
bugger,
he'd have to tell her why. Or maybe not. Sometimes she knew enough not
to ask
questions. He had to try anyway. Monday morning he called her and made
a lunch
date for that afternoon.
He was
twitchy and
nervous throughout the meal. While they were waiting for their dessert
she
pursed her lips. "Okay, Harry, spill it. What's the matter?"
"The
matter?
Nothing's the matter. I'm fine."
"Yeah,
right.
You've been acting like a mental case for the last hour. Now what is
it?"
Harry
sighed.
"Fact is, I need a favour."
"Ah-hah!
I
should have known. So what is it?"
"Well....
what are you doing Wednesday night?"
"Ummm, nothing that I know of, why?"
"Well,
see,
there's this thing I need to do, but I need Sirius not to know I'm
doing it, so
I need him not to go with me and I need to make up something I'm doing
that he
wouldn't want to do because I can't tell him what I'm really doing
because I
don't want him to know about it, because---" Harry had a moment of
inspiration, "---it's supposed to be a surprise, and Wednesday night is
the only time I can do it."
Hermione
blinked,
processing the information. "In simple terms, you're doing something
you
don't want Sirius to know you're doing, so you need to say you're doing
something with me, and you need me not to say you weren't."
"Precisely!"
"Just
out of
curiosity, what is this all-important surprise?"
Ah,
shit. He
hadn't thought of that. "I'd rather not say,
it's
kind of embarrassing."
Hermione
smiled,
obviously getting something Harry really didn't. "Oh, that's so sweet!
Of
course I'll help you. Now what are you going to say we're doing?"
It
really wasn't
supposed to be that easy. Sweet? Why was everybody getting all weird on
him this
week? "Well, I was thinking the opera."
"Harry,
you
hate opera."
"I know, I was going to say you begged me to go with you
because
Ron wouldn't appreciate it or something."
She
snorted.
"Well, that's certainly true. Last time I took him he fell asleep ten
minutes into the first act. So what opera?"
"I...."
"You
hadn't
thought of that, had you? If you're going to cover your arse, your
story needs
to be watertight. Like what you saw and what it was about. You're
lucky,
though, I happen to know that Carmen is on right now, and you've
actually seen
that."
"Was
that the
one with the elephants or the one with the gypsy?"
"Gypsy."
"Okay.
What
was the one with the elephants?"
"Aida."
"Right.
So
you don't really have to lie to anybody, just don't say that wasn't
where we
were."
"I can
do
that. I was thinking of going anyway, so maybe I actually will."
"Hermione,
you are the greatest. I owe you one. No, I owe you like, ten. In fact
I'll buy
your lunch."
Hermione
giggled.
"I can't wait to hear what the surprise is."
Oh,
hell. That
meant there actually had to be a surprise. Oh well, he could probably
arrange
one. He'd think about that later. The important thing was that he had a
perfect
excuse and an alibi. He could even nip into the theatre on the way to
Connexion
and pick up a programme to make it look like he'd really been there.
Well, all
right, it wasn't exactly on the way, but the extra trip would be worth
it if he
wanted to avoid questions.
He
practised all
day Tuesday until he was sure he had everything down. He made sure to
clean up
in plenty of time and carefully got together all the things he would
need and
reduced them into a pocket-sized package which he put next to the keys
to his
office so he wouldn't forget it. It certainly wouldn't do to go to the
"opera" with a giant duffle bag. What on earth would he have done if
he hadn't been a wizard? He went downstairs and got dinner started. By
the time
Sirius arrived home, the food was almost ready and Harry had managed to
calm
down.
"Mmm, is that food I smell?" Sirius said when he
walked
in the door.
"Yeah,
I
decided to make up for my uselessness the last time I had a day off."
"Why
did you
have today off anyway? You usually work Tuesdays."
"Oh,
I... had
some stuff to do."
"What
kind of
stuff?"
"Just...
stuff. You'll find out soon enough." Great, now there REALLY had to be
a
surprise. "Oh, by the way, bad news. I have to go to the opera tomorrow
night."
Sirius
wrinkled
his nose. "Whatever for?"
"Hermione
begged me, and I owe her a favour."
"I'm
not
going, am I?"
"No,
of
course not. Unless you want to?"
"Ha,
no
thanks. I think I'll stay home and watch the Osbournes
marathon."
"Sirius,
we
don't have cable."
Sirius
shrugged.
"Then
how are
you--- Sirius, are we magically stealing cable?"
"Yeah,
so
what? No one's going to know, least of all the cable company."
"I
suppose
you have a point. Anyway, back to tomorrow, I'm going to meet Hermione
at the
University and then we'll probably go straight over there, so I doubt
I'll be
back here at all till late. Bloody opera probably goes on forever."
Sirius
melodramatically pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. "O,
alas,
woe is me, left all on my own for an entire evening! No, Harry, you
mustn't, I
won't know what to do!" He exclaimed, falling down and grabbing Harry's
kneecaps.
Harry
snickered
and poked him in the forehead. "Oh, my poor damsel," he deadpanned.
"I would never leave you, my darling." But he couldn't help thinking
how much he liked seeing Sirius on his knees in front of him.
They
ate dinner,
and Harry was mostly at ease. The first part of his plan was going off
without
a hitch. Now he just needed to be in the bloody show.
Wednesday
at the
Ministry was pure torture for Harry. He was nervous, he was excited,
and the
time was dragging by. To top that off, the day was full of minor but
extremely
annoying mishaps. First the magical field blocker that allowed the
Ministry's
new computer system to work gave out, and stayed out all day, meaning
that
Harry couldn't access half of his files. Seamus accidentally blew up a
teapot
(all over Harry's desk) and Draco was having a bad hair day, which
meant he was
inordinately snappish and grouchy, and he actually tried to hex Harry
for
telling him it didn't look that bad (because it actually looked exactly
the
same as always). Ron went home sick after a couple of hours due to
constant
nasty bouts of puking, and of course his calls got sent to Harry. When
he went
to lunch, the waiter brought him the wrong thing twice, and when he
finally got
it right the damn thing was burned. And just as Harry was getting ready
to
leave, an irate old witch with a particularly stubborn biting teacup
attached
to her earlobe stormed into his office, refusing for nearly three
quarters of
an hour to recognise that her concern needed to be directed to the
Department
of Magical Mishaps and not to the Boy Who Lived, who could not, in
fact, fix
everything and who did not, in fact, even have the means to file the
necessary
paperwork due to the fact that a, he did not have the forms, and b, his
computer still was not working. Then it took another half an hour to
explain to
her how to get to the Department of Magical Mishaps, which was, by that
time,
actually closed, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
At
last he was
alone in his office. None of the day's annoyances boded well for this
evening.
Harry had never been much for omens, since they usually predicted his
impending
death, but these were hard to ignore. Perhaps nothing else could go
wrong. Or
perhaps everything else could go wrong. He slipped out of the building
and
wizarding London and got on the tube to
Islington. He
half-expected the thing to break down or explode, but he arrived
without
incident. He looked at his watch. Half-six. The man he'd spoken to at
the club
(at least the Ministry's phones had been working) told him that the
performers
didn't need to be there till eight. He had ages. He sighed and got back
on the
tube to get the opera program. That didn't kill as much time as he
thought, as
the tube yet again failed to explode. He was back to Islington by seven
fifteen.
He grabbed a sandwich and ate it, which
took all of fifteen minutes, as the man who made it got it right the
first
time. Well, alcohol probably wouldn't hurt. He stopped into a pub and
ordered a
pint of Guinness, knowing it would take him a while to finish it. He
drummed
his finger on the bar nervously, looked around, looked at the clock,
took a sip
of beer, drummed his fingers. He walked
over to the
cigarette machine and stared at it. He hadn't smoked in a long time.
Not that
he'd ever smoked that much, just off and on in 6th and 7th year. He
dropped
four pounds seventy into the slot and was rewarded with a pack of
Marlboros. He
hated Marlboros, but he hated Silk Cut more, and he'd never heard of
any of the
other brands. He also wondered what he was going to do with all those
cigarettes. One or two really would have sufficed. He'd probably have
done
better to just beg one off someone else rather than spending five quid,
but oh
well. It was for a good cause, he reasoned. And maybe he'd need them
later.
At
last it was
five to eight. He enlarged his duffel bag in the men's room and he made
his way
out of the bar and down to the club. To his astonishment, there were
nearly
fifty people there. The man running the thing explained to them that
they would
all have to do one minute of their routines for him to determine which
twenty-five of them would actually be permitted to go on. Harry hadn't
known
about that catch.
"Basically
they have to cut out the extra twenty-five people doing 'Dancing Queen'
to
avoid boring the customers to death," explained the bloke next to him.
Harry was damned glad he at least had something semi-original. They
were
instructed to put on their costumes but not their makeup and then write
down
their names and their songs. Harry dressed carefully, extremely
self-conscious
doing so in the presence of so many people.
"First
time?" asked someone at the mirror next to him, obviously sensing his
nervousness.
"Is it
that
obvious?"
"You
look
nervous."
"I am."
"It's
no big
deal, really. Don't worry if you don't get in the first time, you can
always
come back. I had to try three times before I actually got in. But once
you've
performed here you're basically guaranteed an in."
He had
to get in,
he just had to. He walked up to the promoter, trying to look confident.
Next to
"Name" he filled in Lola Profane. Next to "Song" he filled
in Joan Jett - Do You Wanna Touch. The
promoter
looked at the sheet quizzically. "I'm sorry,
I
don't think we've got that. Have you got another song you can do?"
"Umm,
no... but I do have the CD with me, will
that work?"
"Oh,
sure,
that's fine."
Harry
handed it to
him. "Track five," he said.
Harry
sat through
loads of little snippets, most of them not even lasting a minute, and
most of
them being "Dancing Queen" just like the bloke had said. Some of the
people seemed really talented. Others were perfectly awful. Finally it
was his
turn. He did it perfectly if he did say so himself. He was nervous at
first,
but after a couple of seconds he realised he just had to imagine he was
home in
the living room. After that it was easy. And he was even allowed to go
the full
minute. There were only a few people after him. Then the promoter and
his
assistant compared notes for a few minutes-- more like an eternity. At
last he
stood up.
"Okay
girls,
this is how it goes. If I read off your name, you're in the show
tonight. If I
don't, sorry, come back next month. Right, here we go. Dixie Cream, Lolly
Malone, Tabatha Shaggs......"
Harry
tuned out the list for a while, fretting, and then he heard "Lola
Profane." It was all he could do to keep himself from cheering.
They
were told
they had ten minutes' break, then they were to get into makeup and go
for a
light check by 9:30. Harry took that opportunity to smoke two
more
cigarettes and talk with some of the other performers. They all seemed
really
nice, very funny. As it turned out, he was one of only three
first-timers
there. Both were impressed that he'd gotten in on his first try.
"But I
saw
your routine," said one of them, "How could they not let you
in?"
"Wow,
thanks," said Harry, blushing a little.
Break over, Harry began to put on his makeup. *You're
home in your
room* he told himself over and over to keep his hands from shaking.
Thank
Merlin he'd learned to put on makeup the muggle way or he'd have been
in real
trouble. The light check was fine, he
didn't need to
fix anything like a lot of the others did. So maybe the bad stuff that
had been
happening all day didn't mean anything.
The
final briefing
before the show had an adrenaline-charged atmosphere. "Here's how it
works," the promoter said. "You've each got a list of the order in
which you're performing, make sure you
don't miss your
cue. I call your name, you walk out and do your stuff, you take your
bows, you go back in. First prize is fifty
pounds and a spot in
the Saturday show. Second prize is twenty pounds and a CD. Third prize
is ten
pounds and a CD. Everyone gets a t-shirt and two free cocktails just
for coming.
You're only allowed one before you go on, can't have you drunk. I'd
suggest
going for them right after this if you don't want to spoil any
surprises. Any
questions?" A few hands went up. "Yes... with the bananas."
"Is
the spot
in the Saturday show a permanent one or
just a
one-time?" A few people laughed and the rest of the hands went down.
"Remains
to
be seen. Depends on how they like you, so we don't say one way or the
other.
Anyone else? No? Good. Merde to all of
you. Go get
your cocktails now if you want."
Harry
followed the
bustle of high heels and the swishing of chiffon out to the bar. He
noticed
that almost everyone was ordering the same drink he was, a Long Island. He wondered if it was because
of the
alcohol or because it was a queen drink. Situated on a stool with his
drink and
yet another cigarette, Harry had a look at the list. "Merlin's balls,
I'm
last!" he exclaimed.
"What
was
that?" asked the person next to him (the one with the bananas).
"Oh, I
was
just surprised. I'm going on last."
"Wow,
and
it's your first time, right? They must really think you're good. You're
pretty
much guaranteed a prize if you're last."
"Yeah?"
Harry didn't dare to dream of a spot in the Saturday show. That would
create
all kinds of new problems. He'd honestly be happy with the ten quid.
The
show started.
He watched from the wings, sipping his drink and chain smoking. Yeah,
they were
all pretty good. Though there was an awful lot of Abba. There was some
original
stuff, though. The bloke with the bananas actually did a Spanish song.
Of
course there were the staples like "Son of a Preacher Man" and
"I Will Survive." A queen decked out in leather and metal did
"Oh Bondage Up Yours" and one in a plaid
skirt did "Hit Me Baby One More Time," which caused most of the
people backstage to roll their eyes and make gross-out faces. After the
hillbilly queen named Dixie Cream did a particularly good rendition of
"Goodbye Earl," it was Harry's turn.
"And
now,
last but definitely not least, it's her first time here and she's
lovely,
please welcome Miss Lola Profane!" There was applause. *Oh god, they're
clapping for me. Breathe. You're in the living room. You're in the
living
room.* He strutted out and did his routine. He didn't even screw up
once and it
was over before he knew it. There were loud cheers and someone actually
threw a
rose onto the stage at his feet. He picked it up, blew a kiss to the
audience
just like he'd practised, bowed, and strutted backstage again. The
other
performers congratulated him, telling him he'd been really good.
Everyone came
back out onto the stage for a company bow and collected their t-shirts.
"It's
time to
award the prizes! Third prize goes to Miss Tabatha
Shaggs, for "These Boots are Made
for Walkin'!" Tabatha
smiled, bowed, and collected her prize. "Second prize goes to Jenny
Rotten
for "Oh Bondage Up Yours!'" Jenny smiled,
bowed, and collected her prize. "And now, what we've all been waiting
for,
first prize! It was her first time here tonight, and you'll be seeing
her again
next Saturday in the regular show, Miss Lola Profane for 'Do You Wanna Touch!'" Loud cheers broke out and Harry's
song
played over the PA as he collected his fifty pounds, along with a
bouquet of
roses. The other performers were cheering him on too, even the ones
who'd
obviously expected to win. There were a few closing pleasantries, but
Harry was
deaf to it all. Good god, he had won. He fucking bloody won. Oh shit,
he'd won.
He had to find some way to go back and do this again.
As he
was heading
off the stage, Jenny and Tabatha each
caught one of
his arms. "We've got a bit of a tradition round here," said Jenny.
"You won, therefore we must do our damndest to get you shitfaced,"
she said, grinning.
Despite
the fact
that he had work in the morning, Harry was never one to turn down free
drinks,
so the three of them joined the other queens at the bar. Tabatha
and Jenny each bought him two drinks, and a few of the other performers
bought
him one as well. They were all lovely people, funny and friendly. Harry
couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. The excitement
was added
to by the thrill of being out in public in his costume. He should have
done
this a long time ago.
Suddenly
Harry
heard a familiar voice behind him. "Can I buy you a drink, Miss
Profane?" *Oh fuck. Sirius. Does he know it's me? Of course he knows
it's
me! What's he doing here anyway? Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit, I'm doomed!*
"Sirius,"
Harry said, blushing furiously beneath his makeup. "I'm--- I--- that
is---"
"Not a
hard
question. Can I buy you a drink, yes or no?"
"Okay,"
Harry squeaked. This was one of the few times when he couldn't read
Sirius'
emotions on his face. He had no idea what the man was feeling. Was he
angry?
Did he think he was weird? And what was he doing here anyway?
Sirius
put a drink
into his hand. "That was a good show you put on," he said. "I
knew you were talented, but not in that area."
"Sirius,
I---
I mean, I can explain, I was just---"
Sirius
smiled at
last, but it was a strange smile. "You don't have to explain anything,"
he said softly.
"I
don't?"
"No,
you
don't. Although I'm a little hurt that you didn't think you could tell
me, I
understand. You were afraid I'd think you were strange and a freak and
all
that."
"I'm
sorry, I
was just so afraid you'd hate me."
"Hate
you?
Harry, you idiot, I love you. A little bit of eyeliner and a skirt
aren't going
to change that."
"You
love
me?" *Probably not the way I want.*
Sirius
gave an
exasperated sigh. "Inhale too much hairspray or something? You don't
live
with someone and take care of them and have them take care of you for
four
years without growing to love them."
*Nope,
not the way
I want.* "You're right, sorry. And really, I'm sorry I lied to you."
"Don't
be
sorry, I understand. And I'm prepared to forgive you on one condition."
Harry
gulped.
"What's that?"
Sirius
smiled.
"Can I come see your show next Saturday?"
"You
mean
it?" asked Harry, beaming.
"Course
I
mean it. You're really great. I loved watching you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
On an
impulse
Harry threw his arms around Sirius. "Thanks," he whispered.
Sirius
pulled back
a little after a moment, but didn't let go of him entirely. "You look
amazing like that, you know. I mean, you're amazing anyway, but....."
He
faltered and blushed. *Oh lord, Sirius Black is blushing! Hell must
freeze over
right now!* "I have to confess, I've always wanted to see you like
that.
It's not everyone who can be a beautiful man and a beautiful woman."
Harry's
head was
spinning, and not entirely due to the alcohol. He desperately tried to
process
what Sirius had just said to him. Wanted to see him like that?
Beautiful? What?
And he was also becoming increasingly aware of the arms that were still
around
his waist. Sirius leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against
Harry's.
Just that feather-light touch sent a wave of heat through Harry's
entire body
that threatened to knock him over. "Sirius..." he half-moaned,
half-whispered and captured Sirius' lips again in a deep, searing kiss.
When
they parted Harry pulled Sirius along behind him and they stumbled
backstage.
Harry collected his belongings quickly, somehow still kissing Sirius in
between, and they Apparated home.
Once
in the living
room, Harry dropped his bag and Sirius pushed him back onto the sofa,
kissing
him frantically, his hands roaming up and down Harry's chest and back.
Like a
man gone mad, he pinned Harry's hands up above his head and bent to
kiss his
neck and shoulders, sliding his other hand under Harry's skirt. Harry
didn't
fight the restraint, he just lay there and
moaned,
revelling in the surreal joy of what was happening to him. Then it
happened.
Just like in his daydreams, Sirius ripped the lacing of his corset open
with
his teeth, growling as he pushed the garment apart. He sucked Harry's
nipples
hard, catching them between his teeth and licking them until Harry
thought he
was going to come just from that. Sirius kissed and bit every inch of
Harry's
chest, all the while teasing his cock with his free hand.
"God,
Harry,
you're so hot like this," Sirius murmured, biting his earlobe. Harry
gasped and struggled to free his hands. He needed to touch him, wanted
to touch
every bit of him. Sirius just laughed and tightened his grip on Harry's
wrists.
"Sirius,
please, suck me, I need you to suck me," Harry managed to gasp out.
Sirius
pushed up
his skirt and pulled down the lacy black underwear Harry was wearing.
He
flicked his tongue teasingly over Harry's balls and up his throbbing
shaft, then buried the whole length in his
mouth. Harry moaned and
flung his left leg over the back of the sofa, ripping his underwear in
the
process. Sirius rubbed him and sucked him with long, swift strokes, and
then
Harry felt him gently push a finger inside of him to graze his
prostate. Harry
moaned loudly and bucked his hips, fucking Sirius' mouth. He wanted
Sirius
inside him. All the way inside him. "OgodSiriusIloveyoufuckmefuckmeplease,"
he breathed incoherently, still thrusting into the hot mouth on his
cock.
Suddenly
the mouth
was gone and Harry felt his hands released. He opened his eyes. Sirius
took his
hands and brought them to his belt. Harry undid it and pulled down
Sirius'
jeans. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. His cock sprang free,
long and
erect. "Suck," Sirius instructed hoarsely. Harry did as he was told
and swallowed Sirius' length, tasting him. After a few seconds Sirius
withdrew
from his mouth and then turned to bury himself inside of Harry in one
swift
motion.
It
hurt for a
moment, and Harry cried out. Sirius paused for a second and then began
to pound
into him, hitting his prostate with every stroke. Harry locked his legs
around
Sirius' back, screaming and moaning profane incoherencies. Sirius slid
his hand
between them to touch Harry's cock. Realising his hands were still
free, Harry
moved one to Sirius' chest to rub his nipples and brought the other
around
behind him to massage his balls. He was close, so close.... Sirius
crushed his
mouth down on Harry's, chasing his tongue and biting his lips. And then
they
both came in a flash of white hot ecstasy that nearly caused Harry to
pass out.
Sirius
collapsed
on top of him, out of breath. Harry lifted his head and kissed him.
This kiss
wasn't like the others. There was no seduction or desperation behind
it, only
love. Harry sighed contentedly and they both fell asleep for a while.
They woke
up a couple of hours later, sore from the positions they'd slept in and
rather
sticky.
"Hi,"
Harry murmured into Sirius' hair.
"Hi,
yourself." Sirius half-sat up. "Harry, about tonight..."
*Oh
no, he's going
to say it was a mistake.* "What about tonight?" Harry asked, trying
in vain to keep his voice from trembling.
"I
didn't
hurt you, did I?"
Harry
breathed a
sigh of relief. "No, I loved every second of it. I've wanted you to do
that to me for ages."
"You
should
have said something."
"Well,
if I'd
known seeing me dressed up like this was going to get you all hot and
bothered,
I would have."
Sirius
laughed.
"Come on, let's go get a shower."
They
made their
way upstairs and slowly undressed each other. They got in the shower
and Sirius
gently washed off what remained of Harry's makeup and then they washed
each
other's bodies. Both were too exhausted for actual arousal, but they
caressed
every inch of each other just the same. They dried off and Harry
crawled into
bed with Sirius, still in complete awe that his dream had come true.
"I
love you," Sirius whispered
before falling asleep.
"I
love you
too," Harry said, feeling tears come to his eyes.
----the end-----
(but
not really....)
A/N:
Don't go to
Islington looking for the Connexion. I made it up to suit my purposes.
It's
actually modelled after two real clubs, but neither is really that
great on its
own, so I wouldn't bother. They're not in London anyway. Oh, and no stealing the
stage
names. They're all friends of mine.
Feedback: Yes, please! Send comments to deirdre @ muse-wanted . com
(remove spaces)
The
above is an
original derivative work, ©2003-2004 by Deirdre Riordan
