Shag Me
November 2, 1981
She’s just gotten back from the ministry, from seeing Sirius, when she hears a knock at thedoor. She bites back the sob that has already threatened to erupt from herthroat and walks to the door, her cat running circles through her feet. Whenshe opens the door, just a crack, her eyes are heavy but controlled, her lipsthin.
It’s Remus. Selina swallows. She should have expected him.
“Why is my cat’s name Aquinas?” she asks him, their codedphrase still the same after three years.
Old habits die hard,after all.
“Because you grew up with Muggle religion and he’s a saint.”Selina nods and opens the door wider, welcoming him in as she looks at him, amask of emotions on her face. He walks like a man who has the weight of theworld on his shoulders and Selina has to stop herself from pulling him into anembrace. They are the last of theirfriends left.
Except they aren’t. Because Sirius is being held and eventhough Selina does not know the whole truth, she knows deep within her heartthat there is no way on God’s green earth that he would betray those he lovedthe most. Sirius would have died first. He probably wishes he had.
She wants to scream at Remus, wants to ask him how the fuck he could abandon his bestfriend. But then she sees the haunted look in his eyes and decides that shecan save fighting with him until tomorrow. Or maybe even the next day. Shewalks past him, shutting the door and grabbing a bottle of whiskey. She pours ahealthy splash into a glass and hands it to him before taking a sip from thebottle. When he finishes the glass, it goes on the table and they passthe bottle back and forth.
They say nothing as they drink, Selina collapsing onto thesofa. Remus follows a couple of minutes later and she cuddles in,instinctively. She is not afraid ofphysical affection, not with people she cares for. And even ifshe’s irritated at him, she would still live and die for him. His arm tightens around her shoulders and hiseyes close as he rests his head on top of hers.
“Fuck, Selina,” he whispers. “I just…they’re gone.” She runs her hand though hishair, wishing she could offer him more than her presence, more than hercomfort, more than pretty words wrapped up with a bow that will help no one. “Iknow,” she whispers as she presses a kiss to his temple and holds him tighter.
Because he is the lastof his friends and she is the last of hers and she knows that she will end up leaving him, too. Mary needs her more. Because she knows Remus willsurvive. She isn’t sure if Mary will.
They sit like that for hours, leaning into each other,offering comfort, finishing the first bottle of whiskey before moving into thesecond. They don’t talk much, only stopping to utter memories or a few wordsthat they hope the other will understand.
She has just set the bottle down on the table in front ofthem and has lifted her head to his. “Remus,” she whispers. She is his only remaining link to life, toreality. His eyes are barely open and her lips are parted and he reactsinstinctively, as if his body is moving of its own accord. And then his lipsare on hers and her arms are around his neck, fingernails digging into hisscalp, and in her haze of alcohol and lust, Selina does not even stop to wonderif this is a good idea.
Because right now, it is just the two of them. Mary hasfled, James is dead, Sirius is in prison, and they want to feel alive. They needthis.
Remus’ lips move down over her throat as her fingersunbutton the shirt that has come untucked from his pants. He presses kisses toevery expanse of skin he can find and she looks at him like she’s seeing himfor the first time. Her breath hitches in her throat as he pulls her shirt upover her head and unhooks her bra.
Her clothes fall on the floor and his fall over the couch.
He kisses the inside of her thighs and Selina runs her handsthrough his hair before pulling him back up to kiss him, tongues slowlytangling as he enters her. Her legs drape over the back of his thighs as herhips rise to meet his.
It is not fast, not the frenzy of lust that many a drunkencouple has fallen into. It is slow, eyes meeting each other’s as lips pull outmoans and whimpers and her legs tighten around his waist. He touches her likeshe is made out of china, reverent and attentive, and she has no idea that he has never been with a woman before.
They might not be inlove, but they are making loveall the same. This means more, becausethey are all that is left. They tethereach other to life.
His pace is steady, lips moving over her collarbone, as herfingers graze down his back, down his spine, fingernails light on his skin. Hemoans when her hand reaches his ass and she presses a kiss to the corner of hismouth that he returns. She arches her back as she finishes, legs tighteningaround his waist as he presses a kiss to her forehead and follows.
When it is over, he collapses on top of her, his head on herbreasts and her fingers tightening in his hair. She presses a kiss to his foreheadas his arms tighten around her waist.
They fall asleep this way and start the morning off the sameway they left the night before. They do not talk about it, but the next nightfinds him in her bed again.
This will continue. Lifegoes on.
In a month, they will fight about Sirius, she will leave forAmerica with no plan to return, and he will be alone again. But for now, they haveeach other.
And it’s better than being alone.
