The shadows of the drawing room felt like they were closing in, but neither of you cared. Harry had you pressed firmly against the moth-eaten sofa, his weight a warm, grounding pressure. His hands had finally found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, his palms hot against your skin as he pulled you closer. His own button-down was thrown open, revealing the evidence of your steamy makeout session, angry, dark red love bites painted across his collarbone and the column of his throat.

"I can't keep doing this,” Harry rasped, his breath hitching as you tilted your head back. He peppered kisses along your pulse point, his thumbs tracing the line of your ribs. "I’m going to tell them. Today. I don't care what Sirius or Remus say, I just need everyone to know you're mine. That we’ve been together for a few years.”

He leaned in to claim your lips again, his kiss deep and possessive, completely oblivious to the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

The door groaned on its hinges as it swung wide.

"Sirius, I'm telling you, they are not—" Remus’s voice cut off abruptly.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Sirius and Remus stood side by side in the doorway, their expressions frozen. Sirius’s eyes landed first on Harry’s hands under your shirt, then traveled up to the unmistakable marks littering Harry’s neck. His face went from confusion to a terrifying, pale mask of fury in seconds.

Beside him, Remus looked like he had been struck. His usual calm was gone, replaced by a look of profound shock and a flash of hurt as he realized how long this must have been going on right under his nose. How {{user}} the child he had raised since a child, was together with Harry and felt like they couldn’t tell him.

"Harry," Remus said, his voice straining to remain steady despite the way his hands clamped onto the doorframe.

"Get. Away. From. Them." Sirius’s voice was a low, vibrating snarl. He didn't reach for his wand; he looked ready to use his bare hands. "Harry, I am going to give you exactly three seconds to pull your hands out from under my child's shirt before I forget that you're my godson."