
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1551638.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Regulus_Black/Bartemius_Crouch_Jr., Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin_-
      Background, Rodolphus_Lestrange/Rabastan_Lestrange/Evan_Rosier_-
      background
  Character:
      Regulus_Black, Bartemius_Crouch_Jr.
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Public_Sex, Pagan_Festivals
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Sabbats
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-01 Words: 670
****** Beltane (Sacred and Profane) ******
by Evandar
Summary
     Dumbledore doesn’t approve of rituals being held on school grounds,
     so they meet outside of it. All of them left who practise the Old
     Ways... Regulus makes Barty's first Beltane ritual a night to
     remember.
Notes
     Written for the 'Festivals of the Quarter' prompt on my GenPrompt
     Bingo table.
Dumbledore doesn’t approve of rituals being held on school grounds, so they
meet outside of it. All of them left who practise the Old Ways (even the blood
traitors; no one bats an eyelid at Sirius Black, not here, because here they’re
united whatever their politics) gathered in a grove in the Forbidden Forest.
Regulus nods at his brother when they meet at the hawthorn tree. Its thorny
branches are dripping in sick-smelling white flowers and decorated with bells
and shells and ribbons of all colours. They tie their decorations on in silence
and part, heading in different directions. Regulus joins his friends, lets
Barty slip an arm around his waist and draw him possessively close to kiss;
Sirius stands on the edge of things, staring at the fire pit.
Once lit, they come together as One. They dance about the flames, firelight
burning madness and magic into their skin, and they take turns to leap the
flames – singing hair and cloaks and gaining blessings, their magic spiralling
up to the sky with the smoke. They feast on oat cakes drenched with honey, and
chunks of roasted spring lamb that drips grease over their hands; Regulus licks
fruit juice from Barty’s fingers and suckles honey from his tongue, pressing
decadently into his side.
This is Barty’s first ritual. He’s new to the Old Ways – placing Regulus’
traditions before his father’s beliefs – but he takes to the ancient magic with
ease. The dancing too. Regulus drags him into it, and once he’s stumbled
through his first steps he leaps and twists as well as the rest of them,
laughing madly.
The power is a rush, and Regulus laughs, breathless and panting as Barty pulls
him from the circle and presses him back against a tree. He spreads his legs
eagerly when Barty’s hands quest beneath his robes and find his cock – he’s
naked beneath his robes; achingly hard and dripping – and his moans are lost in
the noise of the ritual and the crackling of fire. A familiar spell is
whispered between them and Barty sinks home, panting into his ear as Reg clings
to him, hooking his legs around his waist.
They aren’t the only ones. All about the clearing, couples are pairing off –
driven wild by the magic of changing seasons, renewal and fertility. Over
Barty’s shoulder, he glimpses Rabastan leaning back into his brother’s hold,
kissing him desperately while Rodolphus holds his legs open for Rosier. He sees
Sirius, eyes reflecting green – oddly animal and utterly alien – slipping off
into the trees, no doubt in search of Lupin.
He’s pulled back to himself by a nip to his throat. “Good view?” he asks, and
Regulus feels the curve of a wicked grin pressing against his skin.
He laughs and tips his head back against the tree. “Harder,” he begs. He
tightens his arms around Barty’s neck, pulling him closer and bites down
lightly on his ear. “Fuck me,” he says.
He doesn’t last. He comes, screaming wordlessly with his head thrown back and
Barty kissing his throat, scraping at him with blunt teeth and digging bruises
into Reg’s thighs with grasping hands.
His second orgasm is gentler, triggered by Barty’s own, and he moans softly
into his boyfriend’s ear. “I love you,” he breathes, turning his head and
pressing sloppy kisses to his mouth.
Barty’s hips keep moving, working his come deeper in, until he softens and
slips out. He lowers Regulus carefully to the ground, but leans against him,
pressing him against the tree and returning his kisses.
The fire is dying. Regulus studies Barty’s face and the glint in his eyes and
grins. Barty is alive with magic and elation. The lingering power of the ritual
and the afterglow of their lovemaking combined with the red glow of the fire
makes him look almost inhuman. Primal and beautiful; young and ancient.
Sacred and profane.
He pulls Barty back to him, whispering his love between kisses as Barty tangles
his fingers into his hair and whispers back.
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