Disclaimer: Not mine, JKRís.

Author's Note: Third in the Obsession series.

Warnings: Mention (briefly) of rape, parental abuse, and other nasty things. These boys are a little fucked up.

Murder of Love

Part 5 - Discovery

By Rhys


I think the heat first started when we were all walking out of the Great Hall after dinner. It danced at the edge of perception at first, just a faint tingling in my toes, a strange tickle in the bottom of my stomach. It wasnít noticeable enough for me to think anything of it, and I chatted amiably with James as we headed up to our room to work on an assignment for Transfiguration. I was trying not to think of the detention later in the evening; Filch was having me harvest moon lichen for one of the professors on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Moon lichen looked pretty much like regular moss, except it glowed brightly from midnight until three in the morning. And it smelled.

But that heat turned into something else entirely. Or maybe just something more. I canít keep my eyes off him, my beautiful James, lying obliviously on my bed and biting his lower lip in deep concentration. His eyes, such an amazing deep brown, like dark chocolate, so rich you could drown in them happily. I find my hand creeping out to divest him of his glasses, that hide so much of his face from me. I snatch it back guiltily as he looks up and smiles quizzically.

"Alright, Sirius?" he asks, gazing up at me, and is it my imagination that paints the blooming flush in his cheeks? It must be, but still Iím entranced at the way his tongue darts out, licks the curl of his upper lip, oh so delicately.

"UhÖfine," I manage to sputter out, nothing like my usual easy banter. "Why?"

Oh, and now heís studying me with those incredible eyes, looking at me from under thick, short lashes. I force my eyes away from his face briefly, trying to gain a bit of control. I hope desperately he doesnít notice how hard I am, how utterly arousing I find every little gesture, every word. "Well, you look a littleÖuncomfortable," he answers me slowly, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Against my will, my eyes are pulled back to that open, lovely face, tracking over the untidy mop of black threaded through with dark walnut. His lips are half parted as he stares back at me, and I feel my heart trip hammer in my chest. //Oh, it would be so easy to just lean forwardÖlean forward and kiss him, take those lips, those perfect, moist, soft lipsÖwhat harm will it do?//

Itís been well over a minute since he last spoke, and still I havenít answered him. But he says nothing about this, simply stares up at me with that curious blush on his cheeks, as though waiting for something. He canítÖhe canít be waiting for me to kiss him, can he? No, of course not, our James is as straight as the day is long, but stillÖagain, the voice in my head urges me on.

//He wants you to, look at him, when have you ever seen someone so ready? And heís all youíve ever wanted, really, the whole of your existence since you saw him first seven years ago. Take him, when are you ever going to get this opportunity again? Heís like a ripe fucking peach, so sweet, so amazingly sweet and soft and juicy and perfect and begging and //

I stop myself. I have to. My hands clench in the bed covers as I try to say something, anything. "James, IÖ"

"Yes?" Heís so fucking rapt, //God, donít do this to me!//

"IÖ" //I canít, I canít. Itíll all fall apart, heíll hate me in the morning, somethingís wrong, somethingís wrong, you canít fuck this up, Black, you canít, youíll lose the best friend you ever had, donít.// I push myself off the bed, bolt out of the room and down the hall, rounding a corner and stopping, panting. //My god, whatís happening to me? Itís never been this badÖ// And try to forget the hurt look in those dark eyes when I ran for the door.

I lean back against the cool stone of the wall, fluttering my eyes closed, trying to catch ahold of myself. Things are only getting worse, though, and the pressure in my groin is becoming painful. But a small noise distracts meĖthe dry slither of paper on stone, falling gently to the floor. I look down, see the folded note. //What the hell is that?//

I pick it up and unfold it, noting the familiar careful script. //Remus.// The note is vague, unspecific, but my heart leaps in my chest. An answer, an answer to this terrible searing heat that threatens to undo me. A small voice that has yet to be heard tonight reminds me of something I donít want to hear. //Is it any less likely that Remus will regret this in the morning? Less of a chance you might lose a friend? Or do you just not care quite so much for him?// I snarl angrily, smack my head back against the wall before studying the note once more.


Meet me in the old Geomancy classroom on the third floor. Come alone. We need to talk. Iíve been doing a lot of thinking about our relationship.


Thereís really no need to think, though, my bodyís done it for me as I push away from the wall, head down the stairs and out the portrait hole, hurrying through the endless corridors to the boy waiting for me. And when I finally get to the door, the door like so many others leading to yet another unused classroom, I stop, take a deep breath, try to think. But that burning is still there, flushed through my entire system by my wicked heart; my blood is boiling, pounding too loudly to ignore. I step through the door.

And there he is, every bit as beautiful as James. That face, those eyes, that brilliant hair like bronze glimmering in the light of his wand. He looksÖconfused. Did he not expect me to show up? I canít stand that look on his face, and before I know it Iím stalking across the floor, wrapping my arms around him, and heís so precious, so warm, so deliciously here and I donít care what gets ruined tonight, I canít hold back any longer.

For one terrifying moment his lips are slack under mine, his body stiff. But sudden he opens and I dip my tongue into his mouth, drinking in his warmth, taking it into me and adding it to the fire in my veins. He tastes faintly of cinnamon, something he must have drank, and I feel him melt into me as his tongue plays demandingly with mine. And that voice, the voice of caution, I canít hear it anymore. All that matters is Remus, here in my arms, and why did I never do this before?

I slide my hands inside his robe, and I hear his throaty moan. His broad hands scrabble ineffectively at my chest, and I pull back to smile wolfishly down at him. Heís so needy, and it opens him up in ways I never imagined. Everything, everything is forgiven, forgotten, I donít care, I just know that I need to feel his skin, feel him under me, anything. I divest him of his robes impatiently, and heís not looking away, just watching me do it as his teeth scrape lightly over his full lower lip.

I slip his t-shirt over his head, and pull off my own as well, having left my robes behind in the dorm. And then Iím free to press up against him, feel the heated slide of flesh over flesh, sweat prickling at my hairline from the furnace roaring inside me, rolling off me in waves, and answered by his body. Heís feverish as I claim his lips again, kissing madly. I press into his smaller body, feel the length of him under his jeans, firm and ready. I grind my hips into him, and the heat becomes briefly overwhelming, flaring up through me with impossible-to-sate ardor.

The moan comes from me this time, and I fall to my knees in front of him, shoving him back into the desk behind. I have to see him, I have to taste that hardness, and Iím never more grateful for my nimble fingers as now, as I pop the buttons of his jeans, slide them down his hips. His hands fist in my hair, and I look up at him, and see my own desire mirrored there, clouding his eyes a beautiful gold, wolf amber. I continue to watch as I dart out my tongue to taste the tip of his erection, a brilliant ruby, straining towards my mouth. He shoves his hips forward, groaning loudly, lets his head fall backwards.

Heís mumbling, muttering, all I can catch is "please", but itís enough for me. I slowly ease my lips over the head of his cock, watching his face, so ecstatic. Why did I wait, why did I ever wait? This is heaven, watching him shudder above me, the delicate salty taste of him, the perfect way he feels in my mouth, his thick length pushing against my tongue.

I bob my head, trying to take him all in, to completely engulf him in my mouth. I canít quite, my gag reflex kicks in, but itís worth it, to choke on him, to smell his sweat and arousal so close, to wrap my arms around his thighs, hold him in place while I ravage his cock with delirious abandon. All coherency is leaving me, but I can take brief pleasure is noting that it left him several minute ago. My beautiful, beautiful Remus. Mine.


It seems as though that little potion is working exactly as advertised. Black canít keep his hands off Lupin, and the younger boy, while taking a less active role than I would like, is certainly not objecting to be sucked down like a ice lolly on a summer day. I have to admit, the show is quite titillating, but not why Iím here. It isnít difficult to creep back to the door with all the noise theyíre making, and I slip back out into the hall, cracking the door just enough to let their cries and moans seep into the quiet, dead air of the third floor corridor.

Severus is due in twenty minutes or so, but knowing him, heíll be early. Heís been too impatient to talk to that boy not to be. So I settle in for what should be a short wait, and Iím rightÖnot five minutes later, here he comes, black robes swishing in his wake as he hurries across the stone floor. There are spots of high color in his cheeks, and while he isnít smiling, he certainly looksÖeager.

I can pinpoint the exact second he hears them. He slows abruptly, and a hint of a frown knits his heavy brows together. But only irritation; he obviously thinks someone else is using the classroom. I see him let out a soft sigh, and he moves forward again, this time more quietly. Yes, annoyance is now announcing itself loudly in those elegant features. I ghost around the door, angling myself so I can see his face when he looks in, but not so close that Iíll give myself away with any noise.

He pulls out his wand, holding it loosely in those long fingers, and nears the door. He tilts his head to the side, peering inÖ

Iím sorry I did it. For one shining moment, Iím so, so sorry. Severus has never been a particularly expressive person. He gets across everything he needs to with little quirks of his lips, arches of eyebrow. But nowÖoh, his face cracks violently open, wide and glaring and raw, and Iíve never seen such pain, such shock, like an open wound. There is surge of terrible, terrible regret and with it comes the numbing wash of power. //I did that. I did it, I made him feel that.//

Iíve never seen Severus cry. Not even when he was a 1st year. I remember an incident when he was in his 2nd year; some 4th year Gryffindors got him up against a wall after a Quidditch match and just started pounding him. I never knew why, he wouldnít tell me, but as I watched they punched him over and over in the stomach, until he vomited. Never touched his face, just his stomach. There was blood on his lips when he finished heaving and gagging. But not one tear stood in his eyes. As they moved away from him, he fell to his knees, hands landing in the mess in his feet. But those black eyes stayed dry as he watched them walk away. He marked them. And two years later, he made them pay.

But now, those tears spring to life in his eyes, glittering moisture pooling radiantly and slipping free. His mouth is open in silent shock, and I can hear that heís not breathing, just frozen, sedated by agony. Itís fascinating to watch him, all the secrets heís ever held flashing across those eyes, every slight, every unkind word, every blow glistening there in the darkness on his cheeks, running down his chin, dropping silently to disappear into the depthless black of his robes.

His wand clatters noisily to the floor, and I tear myself away from his face to peer past the door myself. Black obviously hasnít heard, as heís still working busily on his friend, but Lupinís eyes track over to the crack in the door. It takes him a few moments, as he blinks slowly, just staring. He mouths, "Severus?" as he watches the stone form that is his lover, confusion knitting his brows, crossing his prettily flushed face.

He suddenly shoves Black away, sending the taller boy back onto his arse. Lupinís face mirrors Severusí, shock and panic and pain all combined into one horrified mess. He looks down at Black, whoís staring up at him in consternation, his lips red and swollen from his previous position. Then he looks back to his lover, who is no longer there.

Severus runs down the hall, away from me, away from everything. I donít know where heíll go tonight. I have a strong feeling it wonít be back to the Slytherin dorms. But wherever it is, Lupin wonít catch him. I glance back into the classroom, see Lupin reaching for his robes, trying to pull away, but Black has him by the leg, is pleading with him about something. I smile in satisfaction. No one takes whatís mine. No one.

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