The Madder Side

Let's Drink

Let me taste your madder side and let's see who I become. Sirius and Harry's bonding time got a little out of hand. And now the press were camped outside, Molly Weasley wanted Sirius dead and the rest of the house wanted to know their every detail. Damn. SBHP, SLASH.

"And, and, and then I said to the giraffe," Sirius said in between bouts of hysterical laughter, "That he could go get fucked because I'm not in to that kind of shit!" He laughed again, and wiped tears from his eyes.

Next to him, Harry was slumped down over the table, his whole body shaking.

It was long past midnight; the only people left in the Hog's Head were the drunks. Which tonight included Harry and Sirius.

Aberforth Dumbledore watched them from behind the bar, cleaning filthy glasses with an equally filthy rag. His eyes twinkled madly as he watched the pair.

"That, was the funniest thing I have ever heard," Harry said when he had regained the ability to breathe. "I've never been to a costume party. I want a costume party."

Sirius stared back at his godson for a second, trying to listen to that tiny, faint voice in the back of his head that said 'This is a bad idea'. His angelic side cheered when he listened to the voice. But it was just for a second. Then he ignored it completely.

"I've been to one or two." Sirius giggled. "One or two. Have you heard of the Alley Cat?"

Harry shook his head.

"It's a costume bar. You have to dress in costume to get in."

He raised an eyebrow in return. "Where are we going to get costumes now? It's late," Harry pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius pulled his wand out of his pocket and smiled a sloppy grin. "Wizard," he said to his godson as he tried to twirl it in the air, instead only managing to drop it and send Harry into another fit of laughter.

The pair lurched to their feet a minute later and stumbled out the door, using each other as support.

The loud sound of a motor echoed in the empty London street. Sirius Black's huge motorbike roared down the road, the person on the back holding on for dear life.

"Merlin's balls Sirius! Slow down!" Harry screamed. Sirius laughed maniacally.

"Doesn't it feel great Harry? The wind in your face?" he shouted back.

"Slow down!" his godson yelled again, bordering on hysterics. He'd survived a hundred and one plots to assassinate him, only to be killed by a drunken madman driving an over sized motorbike named Isabella.

Three sharp corners and one near miss later, Sirius pulled up outside a trendy looking shop with a large sign reading 'Al's Costume Shop'.

Grinning ridiculously as the sounds of the motor died away, Sirius raised a finger to his lips, telling Harry to be quiet.

"Shh," he said in a loud whisper. "We don't want to let them know we're here!" He slid off Isabelle's seat and stepped onto the sidewalk, motioning for the other man to follow. Harry, still shivering from the ride over, stared in amazement at his godfather, who started an uncoordinated army roll to the glass doors. Shaking his head, Harry slid off the bike and followed his friend into the shop.

"This is illegal," Harry pointed out as he looked around.

"Really? I thought everybody broke into shops in the middle of the night. That's what alohomora was invented for," Sirius replied sarcastically, starting to search through the nearest rack of clothes.

"I thought you said-" Harry whispered, pausing to curse as he stubbed his toe on a conveniently placed trunk. "I thought you said that you were a Wizard anyway. Why didn't you just conjure clothes?"

"I am a wizard. And I can't conjure clothes. It's too hard," Sirius whispered back, being as quiet as he could. Considering their state, this wasn't saying anything.

The pair crept through the long room, searching through the racks for appropriate costumes.

"Hey, what about this?" Sirius held up a purple spangle dress, long enough to drag on the floor.

Harry made a face. "Purple isn't my colour. What about something green? Hermione always tells me to wear green. It goes with my eyes," he finished seriously, nodding his head.

Sirius turned back towards the racks of clothes and started searching for something to match his godson's eyes, careful not to spill the bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand.

A few minutes later he held up a dark green tailcoat, an even darker pair of striped trousers, and the same coloured top hat.

"What about a shirt? I can't go without a shirt," Harry whined in reply.

"You can."

"I can't."

"You can."

"I can't."

"No, you can't."

"I can too!" Harry snapped. He took a few seconds to work it out. "Oh shit. I've been out foxed by a dog. Who isn't even a fox. And is dumb."

Sirius chuckled as he stared at his godson. He wasn't quite as drunk as Harry was, having had much more experience. But he was still pretty slaughtered.

"Okay..." he said slowly. "Well if I'm a dog that is dumb, then you're a stag that is twice as dumb. And castrated."

Harry winced. "It's hunting season isn't it?" he asked sadly as he tried to pull on his trousers without falling over.

"Yep," said Sirius nodding. "January to December is open season on all Harry Potterses."

"I thought so. My name is Harry Potterses isn't it?"

Sirius nodded again.

"I thought so," he said again. Harry looked mournful. He sounded mournful too.

Sirius decided to ignore him. It seemed the best solution. He scanned the room, looking for anything that he could wear. Preferably something that made him look sinful. Sinful suited him.

"Gasp!" he exclaimed. "I've found sinful!"

Harry, who obviously couldn't read Sirius' thoughts, had no idea what he was talking about. "What?" he asked stupidly.

"Keep up, keep up old boy! I found a sinful costume!" Sirius said excitedly.

His godson looked suspicious. "It's not something with the bum cut out is it? Because Remus said you had some, but I didn't want to believe him," he said slowly.

"There! Right there! It's all my sinfulness put into one costume!"

In the corner of the room was a mannequin, dressed to look like Captain Jack Sparrow. There were a pair of grey coloured leather pants, a raggedy white shirt with a grey blue vest and a brown belt over a pinkish white sash around the mannequin's middle. On top of its head was a wig of dreadlocks, complete with beading and a red bandanna. There were no boots or hat, and the coat had gone missing.

Harry studied the costume for a few moments. "There are no boots," he said helpfully.

"I know."

"You need boots. That's why I said there aren't any," he replied, stating the obvious. Which obviously needed to be said.

"No I don't."

"You do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't!"

"Do!"

"I do!"

"No you don't!"

Sirius grinned smugly, and went to pull his costume off of the dummy, only wobbling slightly. Obviously the castrated stag who is also dumb, is much dumber than the supposedly dumb dog. Or whatever.

The Alley Cat was not only a costume bar. Sirius had neglected to mention that it happened to be one of the hottest clubs in the Wizarding world at the moment. Meaning it was THE place to be seen for the rich and the famous, along with their paparazzo stalkers.

"Lot of people here," Harry stated as they walked to the front of the line, ignoring the grumblings of the irritated people in the line. Being the Boy Who Lived and an infamous, sexy ex-con had its privileges. And didn't they know it.

Sirius didn't answer, instead made a show of bowing to the complaining crowd as the guards let them through the door.

"I love being famous," he said, smirking sexily.

Inside the club was packed, drunken witches and wizards rubbing up against each other in time to the music. The lights flickered constantly, flashes of bright mixed with almost total darkness. To the left was the dance floor, a large area made up of squares that changed colour constantly. The bar on the bottom floor was a half circle, lined with sleek black spin chairs that were mostly occupied. Along either side of the massive dance floor were small round tables, and more black spin chairs. At the front of the room on a raised platform was the DJ, seeming to be the only person in the entire club not dressed in costume. Either side of him were two young witches, dressed as sexy cowgirls, dancing in tall cages. It was impossible to see what was happening upstairs, a mass of people blocking the view. Everyone was dressed in costume. Sitting down by the bar was a Viking and a princess, and shaking their thing on the dance floor was a witch dressed as a nurse.

There was barely any room on the dance floor, not that it bothered the pair as they headed straight to the bar. What else would a self-respecting Marauder do?

"What'll it be, boys?" asked the bar attendant without looking up. She was young, with the blond hair and big boobs that Sirius had come to associate with people working in the Alley.

"Two Firewhiskeys. Thanks, love," Sirius slurred.

The woman looked him up and down, smiling flirtatiously when she realised who and how good looking he actually was. Magazines didn't do him justice.

"Sure honey," she replied, turning around to get the bottle, sticking out her arse more than she needed to as she bent over.

Sirius noticed, winking at Harry who rolled his eyes in reply.

The witch poured them both a shot and left the bottle, adding the cost to Black's tab.

"If there's anything else you need, gentlemen," she purred, and walked away, with a lot of arse shaking. The pair shared a look, and downed their shots.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, before reaching for the bottle and pouring them both another shot.

Just as Sirius reached for the bottle to refill their glasses a third time, the manager of the club swooped down like an angry bat (reminiscent of Snivellus), and stole it away from him, ignoring their outraged protests that they weren't drunk (enough).

"What should we do now?" asked Harry after a moment of silence. Drinking had been their plan for the night.

"Well... what do you usually do in a club?" Sirius asked in reply.

Harry stared. "I drink," he said, counting on one hand. "And... I dance." He counted another finger. "But I dance with girls. And you. Aren't. A girl," he finished accusingly.

Sirius considered this for a moment.

"Well... I could be. You don't know for sure that I'm not." Both of them looked down at his groin.

"Are you?" Harry asked cautiously.

Sirius smirked. "Would you like to check?" he asked sweetly.

Harry looked down again. "I would need to be very much more drunker."

His godfather feigned a hurt expression for a few seconds. "Fine then."

Nobody said anything for a few minutes, both content to watch the strangely dressed people around them. Over by the stairs stood four young women dressed as angels, complete with feathery wings. All of them, Sirius noticed, were staring at him. Well... they might have been staring at Harry too, but mostly him.

"Oi," Sirius said to his less-good-looking-than-him godson. "See those chicks over there?" he asked, gesturing toward them.

"Yeah," Harry replied suspiciously.

"They like me. And I'm pretty sure I could persuade them to like you too," he said with a self assured smile. "How about we go visit?"

Harry stared. "They don't like me?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Well... not as much as me. Come on," Sirius replied, and pushed off of the bar, nearly overbalancing as he did so. He turned to give Harry a questioning look. "Well let's go!"

Harry watched his godfather saunter across the room, smirk in place, only occasionally needing to grab someone to hold himself up. He sighed. He didn't really want to meet people who didn't like him.

Weaving through the crowd in some sort of weird, six person conga line, Sirius lead Harry and his bimbo friends to the most crowded part of the dance floor. Anywhere else and no one would be able to see them strut their stuff.

Sirius started to move as they reached their destination, only looking slightly uncoordinated. One of the women started grinding against him, while a couple others danced with each other. Harry just stared at them. So maybe he had lied when he said that he danced. He wasn't really much of a dancer.

"What about you, honey?" asked one of the women flirtatiously as she moved next to him. "Aren't you going to dance too?"

"Umm... yeah," Harry replied awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. The woman, whose name he couldn't quite remember, began to grind up against him. Gracelessly Harry tried to mimic Sirius' movements, trying in vain to keep in time with his partner.

When the woman realised that he wasn't going to improve any time soon, she moved on to a man behind him dressed as a soldier. All the other angels had left, except for one attached to Sirius by the lips. Harry sighed, and made his way over to them.

"Uh, excuse me," he said, tapping Sirius on the shoulder. "Excuse me." The woman pulled away from his godfather with a disgruntled look.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her face slightly flushed.

"It's okay, love," Sirius soothed, swaying drunkenly on the spot. "I'll meet you at the bar in a second, honey. It's my godson you see, I can't really leave him."

The woman huffed, flicking her hair back and stalking off the floor. Sirius just grinned, before turning to a confused Harry.

"She's hot," he said instantly.

His godfather smirked. "I'm hot too. We go together."

Someone from behind pushed into Harry and he stumbled forward, falling into Sirius.

"Get out of my way, arsehole!" said the soldier Harry had seen earlier, the blond bimbo in his arms.

"This song is called 'Be Bad' by the band Lowrider. Hope you enjoy it," announced the DJ, cutting off any retort from either men.

"Well," began Sirius as the music started. "I didn't know you were this keen to dance with me, since I'm not a girl."

Harry tried to roll his eyes. "I'm not, I'm just-" he was cut off as someone else fell into him, pushing him firmly against his godfather's chest. Their lips touched, just barely but enough.

Both of them froze. Harry looked up and their eyes locked, and suddenly neither of them could look away. Or breathe. Or move.

Neither could tell who started it. Harry would say it was Sirius, and Sirius would say it was Harry. Maybe it was both of them, maybe neither. But their faces were inching closer together, until they were only millimeters apart. And then their lips were pressing gently against each others, and hands tentatively moving.

Harry's hands wrapped around the older man's neck, and Sirius pulled him against his body. They were grinding against each other, in time to the music that echoed in their heads. Harry's top hat was knocked off as the kisses became more heated, and they stumbled backwards.

Harry could feel his waist coat being coaxed from his shoulders, and he pulled back to shrug it off himself as the music stopped. And the spell was broken.

People around them started cheering, applauding the DJ's choice of music. And in the middle of all of that, was Sirius and Harry. They were staring at each other in horror.

Harry was shuffling his feet nervously, and dragged his gaze away from his godfather. His godfather. A man. The one he had been kissing. The one who was supposed to look after him like a father.

Sirius didn't notice any of this. He was staring at a point three feet to the left of his godson. His godson. The one he had been kissing. The one he was supposed to think of as a son.

Oh fuck. This was going to be awkward.

So I may have just written over a thousand words of absolute shit, but you love it and are dying to let me know about it. Right? This idea occurred to me while listening to the song 'Be Bad' by the band Lowrider. It's a really good song, you should check it out. Anyway, this fic will have six chapters, following Harry and Sirius and their growing relationship.

Reviewers get cake.

Lady Sarai Black