traintracks: (Sirius Harry Hug)
[personal profile] traintracks
Title: Out of the Cave
Author: [personal profile] traintracks
Pairing: Sirius/Harry (UST)
Rating: R
Challenge Prompt: [community profile] harry100's "Shock".
Words: 100x7
Summary: Harry visits Sirius at the cave.
Warnings: Underage Harry (14), godfather/godson UST.






He had looked bad before, but the shock of Harry seeing him now – ragged, unwashed, surrounded by decomposing rat carcasses – is almost too much to stomach.

“Harry…” Sirius sighs upon seeing him in the mouth of the cave.

Harry swallows against the smell, his eyes watering. He enters the cave. Sirius reaches for him then retracts his hand as if he remembers only now what he looks like, what this place has done to him.

“Don’t come any closer,” he says, coughing.

Harry’s body aches with compassion. He takes another step. And then another. Sirius turns his head away, ashamed.



“Let’s get this place cleaned up,” Harry says gently.

Sirius nods, but he’s in no shape to help. He’s been here too long, transforming too often. His animal self is too easily felt.

Harry doesn’t use magic, doesn’t want to draw any attention with it. He uses his hands, and he clears the cave of rats and trash. Sirius is quietly crying in the corner, his mouth set angry against his own uselessness.

“That’s better,” Harry breathes.

Sirius nods, still unable to look at him.

“Is there water nearby? A stream?”

Sirius nods.

“Let’s go then.” Harry offers his hand.



They go slowly, Harry holding Sirius’s rough hand. It’s strangely beautiful, electric. They’ve always conducted a force between them, something strong and barely containable, and it feels like electricity. Their magics collide silently.

Harry leads his godfather to the stream. “It’s going to be cold,” he says.

Sirius nods, already shivering. He strips off his tattered shirt. Harry uses it as a cloth, wetting it and sliding it over Sirius’s neck and face, down his arms, his tattooed chest, under his arms.

Harry’s breathing is shallow. Sirius watches him work, the dirt coming off of him, some power slowly returning.



“Can you conjure more clothes?”

Sirius nods. “Feeling better.”

“Good. That’s good, Sirius.”

Harry watches him strip down to nothing. Sirius’s body is war-torn and gorgeous. Harry knows he shouldn’t be looking – that he’s too young and it’s wrong – but he can’t look away.

Sirius’s lean hips. The thatch of sandy-brown hair around his quiescent cock. The strength of his legs. Sirius washes himself quickly in the cold creek. When he dips the shirt into the water and then scrubs between his legs, Harry finally has the sense to turn around. He is fourteen and his dick is getting hard.



Sirius magics himself some new pants and a plain white shirt. He scrubs his face one more time. He looks profoundly relieved.

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms to Harry.

Harry enters them, warms inside them, feels Sirius’s hard racing heart.

“Thank you, boy.” Sirius rocks him back and forth.

“It won’t be long, will it?” Harry asks him. He feels his own strength transferring to his godfather, himself growing small inside Sirius’s fast embrace.

“I’ll find a way. I always do,” Sirius tells him. His voice vibrates against Harry’s body. Harry aches anew.

“I miss you,” he says.



“I know.” Sirius holds him close in the cold. Harry breathes against his neck. He lets his lips rest against Sirius’s neck, not quite kissing him. Sirius rumbles his approval. He breathes, “Harry…” His hands drift down Harry’s body, his back, low, resting there, his pinky fingers touching the top of Harry’s arse.

Harry is so hard now, his dick feels like it’s crying.

“You need to go back,” Sirius tells him, his voice rough.

Harry wants to stay, to press his body closer, close enough to come.

“Go home. Not here. Please.”

The hands are now pushing him away.



Sirius stands and offers Harry his hand. Harry is embarrassed about his erection, but Sirius’s gaze is warm and accepting. Understanding. He kisses Harry’s forehead. Harry thinks he whispers, “Someday,” but it could be the rising wind.

They walk back to the cave.

“I brought you some food. And a book,” Harry says, remembering the bag he brought.

“You’re a miracle,” his godfather tells him.

They both know not to hug good-bye – where that might go. Must go.

Harry looks back at the cave-mouth.

“It won’t be long. Keep me here.” Sirius touches his chest.

Harry nods, yearning, and leaves.



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