Title: Swimming Lessons
Author: Kimagure
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: R
Short description: A different explanation for the Shrieking Shack.
Author's Note: Yeah, my mind goes in dumb places. I'm strange and disagreeable that way.

And this assumes that the pureblood families really are as intermarried as Sirius makes them out to be in OotP.

*****
Written for the RL/JP Ficfest: http: // fallen. ryoshuu. com/  (just remove the spaces)

Challenge: James can't swim. Remus teaches him how.

*****

"Don't lie to me, James."

"I'm not," James gasped greedily before Remus shoved his head back under the surface. This was the absolute last time he ignored his intuition, he swore. He should have known something was up when Remus came to him, laughing at how Sirius and Peter had managed to drink themselves silly. He should have politely, but firmly, turned down Remus's offer to go take a dip out in the lake.

But it had been almost unbearably hot in the tower. Summer had come early this year, and a dip in the lake had sounded wonderful. Sirius and Peter were fine, sleeping the liquor off.

It had been almost two months since the whole thing had happened. James hadn't seen this coming.

But he should have.

He could see that now as Remus pulled his head out of the water. "I'm not stupid," Remus stated coldly. His entire face indecipherable. Emotionless. Frankly, it scared James more to see him like this then it would have if Remus had flown into a fury.

"What makes you think I'm lying?" he tried. Careful now, because it was obvious that he was treading on shaky ground.

"You smell guilty," Remus returned carelessly before dunking him hard and fast once more. If they kept this up, James knew he was going to pass out. Fingers tugging painfully at his hair helped his head break the surface. "I want the truth."

"Sirius sent Snape-" He barely had the words out before he found himself scrambling for air underneath the surface once more. He could feel the breath slowly leak out of him. He could scream here and no one would know. No one would hear him. No one would help.

Fitting, that.

Remus jerked his head up again, and blearily, James regarded him. "I sent Snape," he gasped.

"I know," Remus said calmly. "Sirius is a lot of things. Murderer might even be one of them. But he knows firsthand the price of acceptance." There was a glint in Remus's eyes right before James head was shoved back under the water, giving him time to think on that last statement.

Sirius did know firsthand the price of acceptance, he could acknowledge. James knew how hard Sirius had struggled to throw off the reputation he'd garnered from his family name. He knew how hard his friend had fought that first year to make a place for himself in Gryffindor. James now knew firsthand himself, given the previous summer, how much Sirius valued that acceptance because it was the only place that Sirius had ever truly belonged.

Remus drew him above the surface once more before the black splotches at the corners of his eyes could take over completely. "He follows you blindly."

"I know," James croaked, trying to get his breath back. "He never even protested."

"Why would he?" Remus pressed. "It was your house he ran to, and it was your debt he sees himself in. It doesn't take a genius to see that he thinks he owes you this." The contempt was in Remus's voice, and James almost sighed in relief at it. Because it was an emotion, any emotion that cut through the cold shell Remus had presented so far.

"I-" James started.

"I'm not done yet," Remus bit out, shoving him under for half a second for good measure. "Sirius isn't the one with the grudge. None of us have the grudge you do, nor do we understand it. But you're our mate, our pack member if you want to be quaint about it, so we support you in your endeavors. We trust that you have good reasons. You do have a good reason, do you not?"

"Remus," it sounded pitiful even to his own ears. It was the truth, he could see that plainly.

"What Sirius does and claims for you is his business. I'll corroborate your story, because that seems to be what he wants." Remus's fingers curled tighter in his hair, and James could feel his eyes watering. "You and I, though, are going to have to come to an understanding. Don't get me wrong, I think it's disgusting that you could use Sirius that way, but it was his decision to go along with the farce you created. It was not, however, my choice to go along with it."

James found his head under the water again, and for half a second, he found himself wishing that Remus would just keep it there. Just give him an excuse to forget everything. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. He'd never really intended to drag his friends into all of this, if just because he didn't want to have to confess the truth behind any of it. It wasn't their business. It was no one's business.

It was business best forgotten.

Except he couldn't. It was always there. He fucking saw it every time Snape looked at him. He was reintroduced to it at virtually every family gathering from Christmas to Easter to summertime get-togethers. Ironic that he spent so much of his time feeling the way he did at this very moment. Trapped, panicked, out-of-air, and sick with knowledge.

He could feel the tightness gathering in his chest. He could barely see a foot in front of him since it was darker under the water than it was topside with the moon shining down, but even then he could tell that his vision was blurring out. Finally, he just let everything fade to black as Remus pulled his head above the surface.

*****

He hated Christmas. Because no matter how hard he tried, he never could get a step ahead. He couldn't catch that one break. He'd tried begging his parents to let him stay at Hogwarts.

They hadn't understood. They'd invited his friends instead for part of the holiday. He'd lived in an almost constant state of terror, fearing that they'd learn his secret. Or worse, that they'd be incited to participate. But, in past years, they'd left long before the rest of the extended family showed up for the traditional dinner.

Except, this year, Sirius was here. Sirius was here to see what he'd spent so long trying to ignore. Sirius was seeing what he'd tried so hard to forget.

Hands slid up his thighs, and a voice commanded him to unbutton his shirt.

He'd been trying, rather fruitlessly, to disobey the Voice for years. But Unforgivables were Unforgivable for a reason. The tiny part of his brain that wanted to throw the hand off and run from the room was overpowered by the Voice.

The Voice that he was made to want to obey. The hands that felt good, even when he felt dirty.

He didn't want to like what was happening to him. He didn't want to smile stupidly up at the man as the Voice commanded him to, and he didn't want his hands to reach out and touch his tormentor the same way his tormentor touched him. It was wrong. He was wrong.

A part of him reeled back in revulsion and wanted to coil into the corner like his cousin did every single goddamned time. A part of him wished that their positions were reversed, if just so that he didn't have to play center stage. If just so that he didn't have to be the one under Imperious. If just so that he wasn't the pet on display in a room full of pets.

He wanted the Hands to hurt him. Because if they hurt, then he could feel justified.

But they felt good. It felt good. The Hands on his thighs didn't hurt. The fingers stripping off his clothes were gentle. The teeth at his lips nipped, but never bit. The intrusions into his backside were uncomfortable, but never more than he could handle. Physically, it never hurt at all. In fact, it felt good. Too good.

And it made him want to scour his skin off. He'd even tried to do just that a few times.

He was vaguely aware, under the Imperious, of the Oblivate spell that was cast on Sirius. He was thankful for it at the same time that he wanted to rip it away. His secret was safe once more. Except now it wasn't just his secret. It was Sirius's dirty secret too.

Not that Sirius would ever remember it now.

He could see, despite the haze of the dark spell he himself was under, his cousin glaring at them both from his huddled position at the opposite side of the room. The position he never left no matter what happened or what James's uncle did.

James hated him.

It was easier to hate him. Because he was there. He saw everything. Every humiliating position. Every dirty detail. Every forced orgasm. His cousin knew exactly what happened in this room three times a year. His cousin made excuses. Better excuses than even James could think of himself, to cover the filthy little secret meetings.

Snape never participated in his father's sordid games. He just watched. And knew.

Even if he wanted to forget about the whole thing, James knew Snape would never let him. His presence alone was a painful enough reminder.

*****

"James, wake up." The words were accentuated with a none too gentle slap to the face, and starting, James sat up abruptly, coughing. They were on dry land. That was something at least. Fuzzily, he wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes and looked up at Remus.

It was hard to tell what kind of an expression was on Remus's face since it was in the shadows. "I'm sorry, Remus," he whispered quietly, shamefully even.

They sat quietly for a moment, before James scrambled abruptly to his feet and moved to the closest cluster of bushes to retch. It was hard to tell if he was just trying to get rid of some excess lake water he'd swallowed or if he were trying to purge himself of the poisons in his soul.

Either way, even as Remus took off his glasses and pulled back his fringe about the same time he reached the dry heaves, it wasn't working.

"I didn't mean to use you," he finally managed softly as his stomach calmed long enough to give him the breath to say it. "You have every right to be angry."

"I know," Remus's voice was as calm as ever, and James couldn't quite keep one hysterical chuckle from escaping. "Why did you use us? Why do you hate Snape?" The voice was soothing, and the hand at his back that guided him to sit back down on the sand was gentle. He could feel the heat of Remus's body next to him, and his stomach curled once more as Remus rested a hand on James's wet trouser-clad leg.

Was there an answer he could give to those questions? What would he say? 'I used you because I've been used myself, and I think it's just the way the world works.' It was the truth. People only wanted to appearance of normality. They didn't care if there was anything under the surface or not. Why did he hate Snape? As if he could say anything. 'He watches while his father fucks me silly during the hols.' James would kill himself first.

"James?" Remus's questioning voice pulled his attention to Remus's face. Remus wasn't a half bad looking bloke. And his body was responding to the hand on his leg, just as his uncle had patiently trained it to.

"I hate the dark arts," James managed disjointedly before shoving Remus's hand off and running back to the castle. There were some things a bloke could share with friends. There were some things that a person could tell anyone and everyone.

And then there were some things that were just meant to forever be secret. There were some things a bloke never told anyone, not even his best mates.

"Where've you been?" Sirius questioned him drunkenly as he stumbled into their dorm room. James stepped back and took a hard look at his friend. Sirius would never remember that James had seen him naked. Sirius would never know that James had watched the boy suck him off. Sirius would never know that both Snape and his uncle had watched on the entire time.

If there had been anything left in his stomach, James knew he would have lost it.

"Remus was teaching me how to swim," he returned softly, not caring that Sirius had passed out before receiving the answer.

He was sinking still. He could feel it in the tightness of his chest. The revulsion he felt at the person in the mirror. But maybe Remus's lesson tonight would be enough to keep him afloat.

Or at the very least, maybe it would be enough to keep him from pulling his mates down with him.