Title: The Evolution of Fear
Warnings: Chan, non-con, potions use, coercion
Word count: 622
Summary: Harry knows that Sirius loves him—the only thing keeping them apart now is fear.
Notes: Written for the HP anonymous kinks meme over at karmicsunshine. Prompt: harry/sirius: dub/non-con, harry using a love potion on sirius. make it dark; obsessive, messed-up harry a plus. Thanks to nolagal for the beta!
This was very, very heavily inspired (to the point near-plagiarism, now that I look at it) by One Truth by accioscar. So yeah. Just go read that fic. You won't regret it. Link on my profile page.
In this life there are some things so powerful, so strong and true, that they just don't need saying. That Sirius Black loved Harry Potter was one of them—he'd never said it out loud, of course, but Harry knew it like he knew his own name. How could saying it make it any stronger? He'd broken out of Azkaban for him, trekked across the country and starved and eaten rats and lived as a dog for him. He'd lived in a cave for him, just to be near him.
Love like that? It didn't need saying out loud to make it true. So Harry didn't say it back, because it would ruin it, see? Cheapen it to something made out of mere words, like those exchanged in anxious bursts over cups of tea at Madam Puddifoot's, and Harry couldn't do that. Love like theirs was shown; it was etched into their bodies in indelible marks of give and take.
There was only one thing: Sirius didn't think Harry loved him back, even though he did. More even, but he had no prisons to break out of (only a school to sneak away from) no rats to eat or caves to sleep in, and when he looked into Sirius's wrecked beauty of a face Sirius refused nobly to see his adoration. That was the other thing—Sirius was scared to love Harry properly, to really show him. Maybe he thought Harry was too young, or wouldn't understand, or wouldn't want him, and Harry didn't blame him for it because he was supposed to be a noble Gryffindor, right? That was one of the things Harry admired most in him, that and his control, which was maybe the same thing as his fear but couldn't be, because all those times Harry had sneaked away just to sit in his presence and gaze at him in adoration Sirius had sat there in silent torment, never putting so much as a finger on Harry.
Harry could deal with fear. He had the antidote in his pocket now, glimmering crimson in its tiny glass phial, just waiting to play its part to bring down the last barrier left between them.
Sirius wolfed down his sandwiches without looking to see what extra glittering crimson layers they may contain, just as Harry knew he would.
When he turned on Harry, the lust in his eyes was laid bare, no longer shielded by fear or misplaced noblesse, and Harry had never seen him look more beautiful.
When he clutched at Harry and buried his face in his neck and sobbed Stop me, Harry, stop me, I don't know what I'm doing, Harry gentled him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, It's ok, you can let go now, you want this, you want this. Sirius growled and bit his neck, unable to hold back any longer.
When Sirius ripped off Harry's clothes, Harry did the same, making sure to memorize every scar and tattoo and hair, even though he could hardly see through the lust clouding his vision. He was sure it was the same for Sirius, more so even because he'd been denying himself so long, and Harry guided Sirius's hands over his own body—over chest with the hair just starting to come in, over the sensitive nipples, down his sides and over his hips and to the small roundness of his arse.
When Sirius filled Harry, Harry cried out; he hadn't expected it to hurt, but then didn't it make sense that love as strong as theirs would hurt? Harry wrapped his legs around Sirius's back and pulled him closer, said faster, because now, oh now, Sirius would be sure Harry loved him. There was no going back.