Sirius glared angrily at the figure standing on the opposite side of the gold, gilded room. All around him were the sounds of tinkering laughter, clinking glasses, and imported fabric dresses swishing. Yet, all he could focus on was the anomaly of a man that had not looked at him once since entering.
Remus Lupin stood silent and straight-backed, his handsome, punchable face blank as he nodded along to the group of senators and business tycoons that surrounded him. His tawny, and as Sirius knew from personal testimony, soft hair sparkled in the warm lighting of the entrance to the White House’s Red Room. His perfectly acceptable suit was pressed to perfection, his hands were laced behind his back and, his amber eyes, framed by thick lashes, were downturned and sad.
Sirius wanted to shake him. Sirius wanted to kiss him.
Sirius leaned against the horribly gold wallpaper, his delicate china glass between his fingers, a perfect picture of arrogance. The President’s son. The darling of America. He chuckled to himself, wondering if his thoughts of kissing the British prince dizzy would decrease the country’s love of him.
At his mother’s quick, yet scalding look, he made himself stand taller, his broad shoulders and longer, yet neat, hair, projecting confidence. The genius playboy yet also a charming young man. He knew his part in his mother’s presidency, and he played it well.
The soft drawl of Lupin’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Shooting one more, angry and definitely not at all longing, look at the man, he stood tall to his full height and strutted towards his personal security, Alastor Moody.
“I need your help,” Sirius said curtly to the man, keeping his voice low.
Alastor immediately reached for the gun that Sirius knew was hidden in the lapels of his coat, his one eye rapidly whizzing around the room.
“Where’s the threat?!” he snapped at Sirius.
Sirius shook his head, “No, I need your help Moody. I need five minutes alone with the prince.”
Moody froze, staring blankly at Sirius. “I don’t care to know why, boy. Regardless, there’s no way that no one wouldn’t notice the prince gone.”
Sirius did not bother to shoot his most charming grin, with Moody being the one person in the world it didn’t work on. It even occasionally softened his stubborn mother. His mother, the very first female president of the United States of America. She was both a formidable leader and an even more formidable mother.
Sirius leaned in closer to Moody’s space. “Please, Alastor,” he started, urgently. “I need to speak to him.”
Moody glared at him for a minute before sighing, “I can get you one minute. Not a second more.”
Sirius huffed out a laugh, his hands pressing together over his aristocratic, perfectly straight nose in relief.
Though it was hard, with who he was, Sirius quietly and efficiently weaved through the crowd of people and opening the ornate door, quietly slipped into the Red Room.
Avoiding his eyes from the ghastly portrait of Kreacher, a presidential dog, on the wall, his mind went back to the New Year’s Party a few months previous, the last time he had seen Remus Lupin.
He remembered how he had danced with him, surrounded in glitter and champagne, drunk off of pricy liquor and Remus’s heady, warm scent.
He remembered how he had followed Remus out of the White House, down to the snow capped gardens. So beautiful yet less picturesque than Remus.
He had stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He remembered how Remus had asked him gently in the quiet night, “Do you ever wonder who you would be, if you were an anonymous person in the world?”
“I’d be a writer.” Remus had admitted to him softly.
Sirius had simply stood quietly, understanding that Remus needed to ramble.
He had been unable to remain silent though ,when Remus had uttered in a strange voice, “I would certainly date more, I can’t, uh-, date people who actually interest me.”
Sirius had laughed, probably louder than necessarily, and probably a bit more drunk than socially acceptable, “I don’t understand, you can date whoever you want. You're a prince.”
Remus had let out that long suffering sigh that Sirius had been acquitted with recently over late night calls before grumbling out, “Christ! You’re thick.”
The next thing Sirius knew, Remus had pressed his soft lips to his, and Sirius had felt his world fall into place yet simultaneously fall apart.
Before Sirius could think or breathe or reciprocate, Remus had pulled away, his lips swollen and his eyes panicked.
“I’m sorry,” he had breathed out before fleeing into the night, leaving Sirius stranded, cold, alone and very, very confused.
This night, though, Sirius intended for a very different outcome.
Sirius snapped his head forward as the door clicked open, Alastor’s voice ringing out, “Yes, just in here.”
Remus froze as he saw Sirius leaning against the wall. When he turned back, Sirius was more than prepared to tackle him, International Relations be damned, but Remus simply froze upon seeing the closed door.
He turned back around, his face contorted with an expression that Sirius could not place.
“Look,” Remus started, his head leaning forward “I know that I owe you an explanation. I don’t know what to say, except that I’m so, so sorr-“
Walking forward, Sirius cut him off with a curt, “Shut up,” before tugging him closer by his collar and kissing him so hard that their noses bumped together.
Remus kissed back for a moment before jumping back.
Understanding flooded his half-lidded, searching eyes, “What? Huh! Wait, okay.”
Sirius’s whole body shuddered as Remus threw himself at him, pressing his open lips to his and tangling his hands in Sirius’s dark hair.
Slipping his tongue into the man’s mouth, Sirius walked backwards, pressing Remus into the wall.
Though his head thudded against that damned portrait, Remus did not break the kiss. Instead, he deepened the kiss even more, his heat overwhelming Sirius.
Remus gasped, the sound mingling with the telltale click of the door opening, as Sirius ground their hips together.
They sprang apart so fast that it was physically painfully at the same moment that Moody’s voice rang out, “Ok, times up.”
The end of his sentence ended in a garble, before he turned his head away harshly, closing his one eye.
Remus on the other hand, had started pointing randomly at the bookshelf, muttering under his breath, “Great Expectations, Emma, Jesus Christ, yes! Of course, of course.”
Sirius started up at the painting of Kreacher the dog, attempting to calm the lava flowing through his bloodstream, heading downwards.
He repeated the names of past presidents to the portrait, “James Madison, Andrew Jackson, Franklin Pierce...”
The portrait simply glared back at him.
A few minutes later, the two men walked side by side back to the gala. Sirius had parted his hair as neatly at possible, and Remus had thankfully stopped having a conversation with the bookshelf.
Sirius sniggered as he grabbed two champagne flutes off a server’s tray, passing one to Remus.
“How are you feeling, Your Royal Hardness? Big Ben?”
Remus glared at him, his eyes scanning to make sure no one had heard the comment.
At that exact moment that Remus opened his chapped lips, Sirius’s mother and the Prime Minister appeared in front of them.
“How lovely to see the two of you getting along,” the Prime Minister said sweetly to them once introductions had been politely made.
“Yes,” the president started, her dark eyes focused on Sirius’s face, “Hopefully, no scandals. Isn’t that right, Sirius?”
“Well,” Sirius smirked at his mother, “the night is still young.”
President Black pursed her lips before ushering the Minister away.
“Ok,” Sirius turned towards Remus.
Remus raised his eyebrows before repeating, “Ok?”
“This is what is going to happen” Sirius started.
“You’re going to stay five hundred feet away from me for the rest of party.”
“Of course, I am,” Remus agreed smoothly, though the blush working its way up his neck gave him away.
“Then.. afterwards, you’re going to come up to my room on the second floor,” Sirius paused, before lowering his voice even further, “and I am going to do very bad things to you.”
Remus hummed, agreeing, his plump lower lip pulled between his teeth.
He turned away, strutting in the other direction, but not before shooting Sirius one more smouldering look over his shoulder.
This was so indulgent to write as someone who loves both Wolfstar and Firstprince. I really struggled to decide who to make the president's son and who to make the prince. Family wise, Sirius would be prince Henry more but I just could not see Remus as Alex.
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