Please note, this story contains homosexual content and discusses themes of child abuse and rape of a minor. If this disturbs you, please do not read any further, your decision to do so is taken in full awareness and is your own liability.
The Harry Potter series of novels and the characters therein belong solely to JK Rowling, this is a separate piece of work with no bearing on the original stories.
Innocence Lost.
Do you remember the loss of your innocence? The moment you first realized the world was one big awful place that simply wanted to screw you over and leave you to bleed your heart out? I do. How could I forget?
I was 16-years-old and trust me; even then I wasn't naive. I knew the world wasn't a nice place. Even still, I didn't realize how cruel it truly could be.
This incident couldn't have come at a worse time. I had just returned home after my Fifth year at Hogwarts, with my three closest friends; Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. Over the previous five years we'd been together, these three boys had helped me more that I thought possible for the Heir to the Most Noble House of Black. They taught me love, they brought the real Sirius Black out. At Hogwarts, I ruled. I was not the thing my parents believed I was, a nasty, stupid little boy, a scapegoat for their anger and frustration. I was a real person, a brilliant person. A Gryffindor. I was proud and confident for the first time in my life. I was happy and I felt loved.
Upon returning home I was thrust cruelly back into the realities of my life, the reality of being the scapegoat bastard of Aletha and Cyrrus Black. Once again I was hated on the principle of my existence, and despite my struggles to remember my friends, to remember that I was loved, that I was worthy of love, I found myself falling back to old habits and the mindset of the abused. It was to this boy that Lucius Malfoy happened.
My parents had decided to open the Black Mansion to their closest friends and relatives (in the world of Purebloods, everyone is a relative). They were hosting their annual Summer gala, a party to which their most loathed heir was not welcomed. Grimise Malfoy, his wife and their only son, Lucius, however, were invited. I knew Lucius fairly well; he had left Hogwarts that year. Always sleazy, Lucius appeared to have only worsened since his introduction to the adult world. Truthfully, I had never been particularly concerned with my chubby pretty-boy relative. He had always seemed your typical gormless Slytherin, and I had actually dared to laugh when I discovered his engagement to my cousin Narcissa. It was for this slight, I presume, that he set upon his course of action.
I had been in my room long enough to grow bored with most activity. I had written to my friends, a long discourse on the unfairness of them having a party and my being locked in my room from where I could do no damage. I had read my latest edition of Quidditch Weekly, most noted because it was actually delivered bi-weekly (Does even better that it promises!) and had fallen to he contemplation of the state of my room. This was an activity I was particularly good at because I had so much practice, to the extent that I was certain I was soon going to develop telekinesis, having spent so much time imagining it tidy. I was almost bored enough to begin actually tidying it, an event that had not happened since I was eight and thought it would be a good idea in apology for breaking my mother's ornament. The only good to actually come from it appeared in the form of the House Elf, who, in horror of my actually tidying it refused to ever step foot in my room again. Perhaps if I did the shock of it this time would be enough to send mother into hysteria?
Despite it being only ten, and my having so much to do, or not as the case may be (I contemplated the contemplation of homework before recoiling in horror of doing it before the very last week of the holiday) I had laid down to sleep. I sometimes wonder, had I been tidying my room, or working, would I have been less vulnerable at that moment. I had no wand, so it was no real matter, however I am not wholly convinced that Lucius' actions against me weren't informed by the sudden vision of me lying in bed. Whatever the cause or the possibilities, it was in that moment that I was lying in my bed clad only in my nightshirt when I heard my door open. Presuming at first that it was my mother, I pretended to be asleep. I did not realise my folly until I heard the unmistakeable drawl of Lucius Malfoy intoning a binding charm on me. Helpless, I was forced to watch as his contemplation of me lead to a cruel smirk, and the gut-wrenching terror of him removing his trousers. The binding spell was good, for all of my teasing that the older boy only passed his NEWTs on the benefit of family.
Once his lower half was bared, Lucius eagerly fell on top of me, hastily shoving my shirt up and flipping me over. The binding spell was broken by the movement, but magical freedom did nothing to aid me now, and I was easily pinned and penetrated.
It was in that moment, as I felt him thrust violently into me, tearing the delicate lining of my anus and causing it to bleed, and me to scream out in agony, that I believe I lost my innocence. Not because of what this man was doing to me, but because I was being screwed over again, especially by family. I swore in that moment to never let anyone ever do that to me again.
My friends noticed the change in me, but must have put it down to puberty. Only Remus really noticed and worried over the changes. He spent weeks after our return trying to get me to tell him what happened, but I couldn't bring myself to. The only thing I could bring myself to do was be ruthless.
Our rivalry with the Slytherins was nearly legendary, but it exploded that summer into a vendetta, me against every Slytherin that crossed my path. Snape, especially, became an enemy, although I knew he probably knew how I felt, what I'd gone through. That's probably why I hated him so much, his knowing looks, and the idea that I sympathised with Snivellus Snape of all people.
Part of my changes, part of my rebellion against what had happened to me was to welcome it. I hadn't ever been with a man, before, but now I was willing to take any man that offered, trying to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid of it. I became a flirt, and I never shied away from any chance to be with someone. In one term I bedded more than most people do in seven years. Part of it was my reputation for no strings. Man or woman, we'd have one or two nice little liaisons then they were gone. If they got clingy I got nasty. If they got dominant I was gone. I was never going to make myself that vulnerable again.
The only person in the world who knew all of the people I bedded, as well as my unusual dominance in bed, was Remus. Sweet, innocent Remus. He paid more attention to me than anyone else, including the numerous people I bedded. He knew me inside and out. When, after several months, I began to trust people a bit more, I opened up to him in ways I never imagined. He knew everything there was to know about me, save one thing. I could never, no matter how much he put me off guard, made me trust him, bring myself to tell him what happened to me. Not just because of how weak it made me seem, but also because I felt that he could never look at me the same if he knew what I was like. How dirty I was.
It came as no surprise to me when I realized I was in love with him. He was such a wonderful person and when I began to realise my feelings for him, they began to deepen. I began to look at him much differently. I would watch him, sometimes for hours, delighting at the things that he did, each little movement, each expression, with such reverence it was shocking. I would stay up for hours watching him sleep. I loved it when he had nightmares, as awful as it is to admit, because I could climb onto the bed beside him, hold him until he stopped crying and fell into a peaceful sleep.
I rarely slept; my dreams consisted of two things, neither of which I particularly wanted. Either I was forced to relive Lucius' actions, the torment of than night repeating behind my eyelids whenever they fell shut. Sometimes I'd have a reprieve, and I would instead dream of Remus. He was much kinder and gentler than Lucius. In my dreams he would touch me and hold me and bring me to ecstasy with such love and tenderness that it made me want to cry. Makes me want to cry. I often would cry when I woke up and saw him and realized I would only ever have that in my dreams. Those dreams tore my heart to shreds every time I had one. I never went to anyone about them though. I often considered it, Remus was often awake when I woke from them. I could go to him and tell him I had a nightmare. He, being the loving friend he was, would comfort me in much the same way I did him. The only problem was he would ask me what the dreams were about and I know that in such a vulnerable state, I would tell him. I couldn't tell him, though, so I stayed quiet about them and hoped he also had a nightmare, because laying there, with him crying himself to sleep in my arms was heaven. I could always fall back to sleep then.
Another change that came about was one he didn't appreciate at all. I began to avoid him slightly. I wouldn't tell him as much. He noticed this when James began joking about someone I had slept with and Remus, for the very first time, did not know who it was, or that I'd slept with him. The truth was that, although I still slept with people, I was ashamed to tell him about it. I felt a little like I'd betrayed him and that I ruined my chances further with him every time I told him about someone. I thought that he'd think I was some user that couldn't keep his dick in his pants for more than two seconds when faced with the prospect of a cute arse. The truth wasn't very far from this perception, but I didn't want him to think that because I knew he'd think that in relation to him, if I ever got the courage to try it.
He'd come to me after that one incident, sat me down on my bed in the deserted dorm, and simply said "Sirius, we need to talk."
I knew in that second that I wasn't getting away with any excuses. I felt helpless, unable to prevent or influence anything that happened from there on out. I was reminded of the incident with Lucius again, that same overwhelming feeling of vulnerability and helplessness. This time however was different. All I had to do was look up into his sweet, beautiful amber eyes and my fear melted. I trusted him. It was about time he knew the truth, so if he wanted it, I'd give it to him. He'd never intentionally hurt me.
"No bullshit, Sirius, no 'I can't tell you', no excuses. Just tell me the truth. What happened during the Summer, Sirius? What changed you so much?" For a second, I hesitated, the fear that had prevented me from confessing it all the first time resurfaced, but I pushed it away. There was a determined look in his eyes that told me he'd find out anyway. What cinched it, however, was the love in his eyes, he was only asking because he cared. And because he cared, because I cared, I'd tell him."I... was raped. By Lucius Malfoy, during one of my parent's parties." I hated the fear and pain still evident in my voice, even now. I hated more the pain evident in his eyes, though. For a second he sat there, not moving, not reacting at all to this information, before he whispered, "Oh, Sirius." And pulled me into his arms. We sat there crying for hours, or that's what it felt like. When we finally calmed down enough to talk, he asked me another awkward question.
"I guess that's why you have those... strange sleeping habits. But, why... why did you stop telling me things? I mean, just recently, you've begun to avoid me again. Did he do it again?" He asked gently, whispering the last bit as though it was dirty.
"No, no, Remus, I..." I took a deep breath. How on earth was I supposed to explain to this innocent boy how I felt? "Remus, you... I, umm... Remus, I think... I think I love you." I managed to get out. I realized I was crying, harsh, pain filled tears ran down my face. He slowly reached out and wiped them away.
"And you had to ignore me for that?" He whispered softly. I nodded, sniffling.
"I... felt dirty. I thought you would think I was dirty. For... what Lucius did, for what I do... with other people." I trailed off. This had made a lot more sense in my head. When I said it out loud, the argument sounded weak and pathetic. Who in their right mind would blame me for what happened with Lucius? Certainly not Remus, in any case.
"Why did you feel dirty. What Lucius did to you was not your fault!" He cried fiercely, angrily.
"No, but what I do with other people is. Remus, I... I am dirty. I'm not worthy of you. What I do, it's nasty, I know it is. I use people, lots of people! I didn't want you to think, if I ever worked up the courage to ask you out, that I was just seducing you for a one night stand. I love you, I really, truly do."
"Sirius." He murmered, eyes downcast. Suddenly he looked up at me, eyes full of passion. He leaned forward and kissed me, passionately. "I love you too." He whispered softly against my lips.
That night, Remus and I stayed up all night, kissing softly. The next day, we went to James and Peter in the common room. We knew they knew about us, we shared a Dorm after all, but Remus had insisted we tell them what Lucius had done. He took charge of the conversation, holding me tightly as though protecting me from the very words of the confession. It felt better when my friends knew, and in true Marauder fashion they rallied round to help me, protect me even from myself.
The subject of sex wasn't even raised, let alone acted on for several more weeks. Halloween night, I came back to the common room from the feast to find that Remus was nowhere to be found. Having just come from the feast, I knew he wasn't there, so I went to the next logical place, the Dorms. There was a scent in the half-lit room, musky and delicious. I couldn't place what it was but, me being part canine and lead by scent, it was turning me on.
I moved slowly into the room and spotted him. Remus was laying out on my bed, looking so innocent and desirable. I walked softly over to him, treading carefully. I'll admit, I was slightly nervous.
"James and Peter are unfortunately otherwise engaged, both will be absent from the dorm tonight. So, what do you suggest we do to pass the time." He smiled, a half-smile that told me he already knew the answer.
"I think you've already made the suggestion, Remus. Are you sure about this?" I asked, sitting on the side of the bed, leaning over him. He reached up and kissed me softly.
"Yes."
We didn't sleep apart for the next eight years. It was on the 8th anniversary of our first time that we last slept together. Our final Halloween. I left the bed at quarter to midnight, because Peter hadn't checked in with me. I knew something was wrong. I softly kissed Remus on the mouth, told him not to worry, go back to sleep, and I left him there. I wouldn't see him again for twelve years.