Fic: A Handful of Hollow (Harry/Remus, R)
Disclaimer: no claims of ownership implied.
Author's Note: Written for the HP Flashficathon Harry/Remus post-Hogwarts request. Very vaguely inspired by "The Little Red Riding Hood" fairy-tale as told by Charles Perrault.
- A Handful of Hollow -
It was the first day of the rest of his life, and Harry supposed he should be celebrating. Maybe he should feel different, somehow, being eighteen. Of age to get as drunk as humanly possible. That was a good thing, wasn't it?
Harry could almost see the headlines: "The Boy Who Lived Again, seen stumbling drunkenly through Diagon Alley! Has his new flame left him? Has he lost his direction in life? Is he looking for his lost childhood? Is the world ready for an adult Harry Potter at large? Read and find out!"
Still, he was of age to never have to look at his dreadful blood relatives' faces for the rest of his adult life. Of age not to care what anyone thought, except that would be fooling himself. He was of age to know better.
Harry tugged his red hood further over his forehead in what had become a nervous gesture, even though he scar had faded almost to blend with his normal skin. He really was "just Harry" now, though the thought wasn't as much comfort as it should have been. Complete freedom to go where he pleased, and in the end he just wanted to go home again.
So here he was. As close to home as Harry Potter had these days, even though Remus had never actually gotten around to adopting him-- not that Harry would have allowed it, most likely. He wasn't ready. He'd had that particular conversation with Remus in his own head any number of times: he appreciated the gesture, but it was all right. He didn't have to. It was good enough. He would keep it in mind. He didn't need a piece of paper. He wanted his freedom to walk where his eyes took him. He didn't want any more parental figures. He's had enough.
Harry had as many excuses as he had sleepless nights to make them in, though Remus had never asked.
And now, he supposed there was nothing to be done for it. It was Grimmauld Place or some hotel, most likely, not too far away, in some reasonably priced part of Muggle London. Harry didn't want to stay in a hotel on his birthday.
He'd wanted to get away from the public eye for awhile, that much was certainly true-- just not abandon everyone and everything he was still lucky enough to have, in the process. There weren't a whole lot of options, and all the galleons in the world didn't change that. He couldn't bear to be around Mrs. Weasley right now, not with the looks she'd been giving him since Percy died, even though she kept trying to reassure Harry that she didn't blame him. And Ron-- Ron needed time.
They all needed time, Harry supposed, which was rather convenient since now, time was pretty much what they had. Time and more past they knew what to do with, along with a future neither bright nor dark. It was just there, and so were they.
Harry could see the churning of time no matter whose eyes he looked into. He couldn't seem to actually see his friends anymore-- not as they were. He'd even looked into Malfoy's eyes in sheer frustration, their last day at Hogwarts. He hadn't been expecting anything, or at least that's what he'd told himself, but he certainly didn't find it, either.
Malfoy's eyes had the most unnerving, unseeing stare to them, like he saw right through Harry. Not even Malfoy had remained the same, though Harry supposed he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.
"Move along, Potter," Malfoy had said, his voice flat. Apparently, Harry had been staring too long. Taking up space too long, even in Malfoy's world-- perhaps in Malfoy's especially.
Remus was different. He had the same calm glance, giving Harry a once-over and nodding briskly. Harry let out a breath, somehow relieved even though he hadn't realized how much he'd been dreading this moment. An empty house, echoing with Sirius. Sirius sitting between them at breakfast, Sirius' laughter drifting down the stairs at odd times, Sirius' relatives staring down at them from the empty slots where their portraits used to be. It could've been a tomb and his stay there, an extended wake.
~~
Instead, it was just Remus with a cup of tea still steaming in a gloved hand, leaning casually against the doorframe. He was smiling softly and quirking an eyebrow at Harry's old canvas backpack slung over one shoulder and the ever-conspicuous red hood worn under a Tower Bridge baseball cap. Harry Potter: Muggle Tourist. There were worse things to be.
Remus didn't say anything for a while, just looking at him with those too-knowing eyes of his, somehow making it seem much more like a greeting than an interrogation. When the pause began to seem almost awkward, Harry stretched out a hand sheepishly, and Remus took it. Remus' hand felt very warm and dry, probably from having held the steaming mug. Harry was reminded of the fact that he was standing in front of the only person he felt comfortable being silent with these days. Harry didn't fight the beginnings of a rueful smile.
"Go ahead, Professor. You can say it."
Remus chuckled softly, his eyes warmer than Harry remembered them, though the shadows around them remained deep as ever. "Come on in, Harry. Unless this is just part of your prolonged London tour...?"
"So you've heard," he said, breaking into a grin at the other's eloquently lifted eyebrow.
Harry caught himself noticing the loosened set of other man's shoulders, the knots of discomfort below his own neck easing just a fraction in response. He stepped across the threshold with a small laugh.
"Yeah, not bloody likely," he muttered. "Now, Paris, on the other hand--" Harry's grin broadened.
"I could tell you some things about Paris, Harry. Make your hair stand on end."
"It does that already, Mr. Lupin."
"Ah," Remus said wisely. "Care for a spot of tea while you tell me your itinerary then, Mr. Potter?"
~~~~
He asked of her whither she was going: The poor child, who did not know how dangerous a thing it is to stay and hear a Wolfe talk. . .
They were both heading towards the kitchen by unspoken agreement already, and it made Harry's mood even lighter to realize that he didn't really need to talk to Remus, and he'd be easily understood in some day-to-day basic way. This was how they'd all learned to exist, lately, so it was just as well. Day by day and hour by hour and look to look to reassure them.
With Remus, the looks just carried more weight, that's all.
"Yeah," Harry said unnecessarily. "I'd like that."
He thought he could feel Remus' smile even with the other's back turned. "Good," he said. "There's only so much tea a body could drink by himself before the situation turns drastic, you understand."
Unexpectedly, Harry's eyes prickled a bit. This was almost too easy; too bloody comfortable, and he didn't quite know how to handle it all at once. The sheer relief....
"I understand," he said softly, and waited before he was seated at the long table before speaking again. Remus didn't mind silence, which is something Harry appreciated more now than he might have previously. "It's going to be all right, isn't it, Remus?" And that wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.
Remus turned from where he'd stood with his back turned to Harry and looked him in the eye, acting as if Muggle-style water heating was an everyday thing at Grimmauld Place. It probably was-- if anything, it would piss off Mrs. Black. A corner of his mouth lifted as he regarded Harry steadily.
"That it is, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I'm going to Bulgaria first, I think."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Harry said, finding that he was almost looking forward to it, which was a nice sort of surprise. "Hermione wouldn't listen to reason, you know. She had to do what she had to do, and this time it was some sort of tour of Eastern Europe. She said she'll be in Romania next." Harry laughed. "I suspect it's all a cover-up since she's still got some sort of... thing going on with Krum. But don't tell her I said that. Officially, it's all for 'research' for some sort of Ministry internship. Kind of shady if you ask me."
Remus chuckled. "She's never listened to reason before, so why start now?" They shared a long-suffering look. "Don't worry, Harry. My lips are sealed, should I have the pleasure of Miss Granger's company in the near future."
Harry sighed, startled yet again by that strong sense of relief he felt, just being here.
The house was perpetually cool and damp as if it were always raining hard outside, except where Remus was. He seemed to bring an oasis of dry warmth with him, not overwhelming or even very obvious. It was just there, a part of Remus.
Harry inhaled deeply, trying to place the strange aroma rising off the mug Remus had handed him. "What is that?" he asked at last, sipping with all due caution. His tongue still burned, but Harry found he didn't mind.
Remus grinned rakishly, and Harry's chest gave a pang. Sometimes there was just something in the smile, or the way Remus moved. Something about the body-language that wasn't quite entirely his. Harry wondered if he'd held on to those tidbits of him on purpose or if it was something he couldn't control or was even unaware of. Harry cocked his head, making no secret of watching.
"Uh-uh, not so easy, Harry. A good cook keeps his secrets, does he not?"
"Cook?" Harry repeated incredulously. He couldn't hide the smile completely, but then, he didn't want to.
Remus made a small show of being affronted. "Yes. Cook. And a very good one, too, if I do say so myself."
Harry bit his lip, pretending to consider all the serious ramifications gamely. "All right. So what will it take then, Remus. To know one of your secrets, I mean?"
Remus grew still, blowing carefully at the edge of his own cup. Harry shifted restlessly, watching him, eyes lingering momentarily on the light sheen of moisture condensing on Remus' upper lip.
He hadn't quite meant to ask it like that, but the tea was pleasantly hot and he was too relaxed to for apprehension. Harry's eyes unfocused, the tea seeming to sing along his nerves in a soothing way.
"Every secret has a different price, I believe," Remus said slowly. "This one... well, I'd say it would be roughly equal to you making dinner." Was that a smirk he was unsuccessfully concealing?
Harry started, and his smile was quick and sharp. "I could do that," he said easily.
"For a week, say," Remus added, rubbing his chin. "Give or take, that is."
"You drive a hard bargain, Professor."
"I intend to."
Harry felt something within him unknot yet another notch. "Well, it's working. You've got a deal. This had better be worth it, too." What were they talking about, again? He couldn't remember precisely, not while Remus smiled so widely. Harry shook himself. This wasn't on. Remus couldn't be allowed to run circles around him that easily-- although it was quite clear to Harry by now that Remus could run circles around anyone he chose to. "So pay up."
Remus' look was pure false innocence. "As you wish, Harry." Whatever the reason he gave, it won't be enough to cover his symptoms, Harry thought. "I brew my tea with a slight tonic potion, that's all."
"A tonic potion, Professor?"
Harry's former professor appeared to find the tabletop extremely interesting, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth looked suspiciously like mischief. "That's what I said, yes."
"Are you admitting to having drugged me, Remus?"
"Oh no, nothing of the sort, Harry." Remus took a judicious sip from his own cup. "If I wanted to drug you, you'd have little enough room for doubt I'd imagine. This just makes you feel a bit better." The little twitch of the mouth disappeared as quickly as it came, and Remus' look was completely serious. "Do you?"
Harry didn't take long to think. "Yeah."
"Jolly good," Remus said, the intensity fading as if it had never been. "Almost time for dinner then, don't you think?"
"It's barely past noon," Harry protested.
"Well then, I suppose that means you have enough time to get out of this moldy old house, eh?"
~~~~
Well, said the Wolfe, and I'll go and see her too; I'll go this way, and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.. . .
And quite suddenly, Harry realized that he had nowhere he'd rather be. He looked at Remus' tired face and saw one of the only true friends he'd had. "I don't know," Harry said finally. "I might get lost out there."
Remus looked startled for a moment. "Not with me to point you home."
"I don't need a chaperone anymore, Remus."
"Who said anything about a chaperone?" Remus didn't sound offended at all, to Harry's surprise. Rather nice not to be taken too seriously. "I don't suppose you've found all the good places to get smashingly drunk around here by now, have you?"
"You don't mean-- some sort of-- celebration...?" Harry said suspiciously.
"Not at all. I mean an old-fashioned outing. Do you still have those these days? It's a good day outside, I believe."
"Let me put away my bag first," Harry said, poking his modest backpack with a foot and laughing a bit to himself.
"Take your time, Harry," Remus said, not looking up as Harry got up to find his old room upstairs. "And happy birthday, by the way. When would you like your cake?"
There was the smallest of pauses. "Now is good," Harry said seriously.
Remus nodded. "Now is always good when it comes to cake, isn't it? I'll let you in on another little secret, though."
"Oh?"
"I can't bake. We'll have to go get it. Do you think you're up for that, Harry?"
"A cakewalk, you mean?" Harry snorted. He was still no good at being deadpan. Not like Remus was.
"You catch on fast, my boy."
"Just let me pull on my cunning disguise--" Harry snickered, putting his hooded red cloak back on. "How do I look? Are you fooled yet?"
Remus shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, Harry Potter?"
"I don't mind surprises," Harry said lightly, following Remus out into the London summer afternoon.
~~~~
The little red Riding-Hood, who hearing the big voice of the Wolfe, was at first afraid. . .
The third night Harry woke up screaming again, the sheets clinging wetly to his back, gasping for air, Remus was there. A warm hand was clutching at his shoulder, shaking him gently awake.
"Harry-- Harry!"
Harry groaned, falling back onto the rumpled pillow. This was just what he needed-- for Remus to think he was still some high-strung unstable teenager in need of care. "Remus?" he croaked groggily, then tried again. "What-- what happened?"
Remus kept holding on to his forearm, and Harry could see his eyes glinting brightly at him even in the cloaking dark of the room. "I don't know, Harry. You tell me."
It was the old voice. The no-nonsense professor voice.
Harry sighed silently, feeling the beginnings of a splitting headache approaching fast. "I don't think I remember," he said, licking at his dry mouth, and it was halfway true, even. He never quite remembered, but it was always the bloody same anyway. Just what he needed, too. More concerned faces when he woke up.
"Are you taking the potions for this?"
Harry blinked up owlishly at the fuzzy dark form hovering above him, hands scrabbling for his glasses at the bedside table. "N-no," he muttered, slipping them on and wincing. It wasn't dawn yet, and Remus was sure to have questions now.
"Fine, we'll deal with that later. Do you think you can go back to sleep, or do you need to talk about it?"
He couldn't see Remus' features even with the flickering light from the hallway, but he thought the other man was looking even more tense and haggard than Harry felt, nightmare or no. "I'm okay, Remus." He tried to project complete certainty, even if in vain.
"That, I doubt. Go to sleep now. I'll sit by you," Remus said, and his voice brooked no argument. There was no chair by Harry's bed, and Remus was already perched at the edge of it and didn't need to move. Harry breathed in deeply. He supposed it could be worse.
Experimentally, Harry rolled over onto his belly, burying his face in the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. If he concentrated, he could hear more suspicious creaks and mutters than he'd have thought possible, after all this time. He must have drifted off, though, because it was startling to realize that there was something resting on his back, and it was-- nice. Very nice.
More than nice.
~~~~
The Wolfe seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the clothes. Put the custard, and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come into bed with me.. . .
Remus' hand felt so hot through the thin cotton of Harry's pajama-top, yet Harry had to repress a shiver. He wasn't moving his hand at all-- it was just resting there, on Harry's back, sending random shots of electricity to his extremities. Harry's breathing speeded up; he just couldn't help it, and he tensed. Now Remus knew he was awake... or did he?
Unable to remain still, Harry groaned in sincere sleepiness and started to move. Almost immediately, the hand disappeared, and Harry had to swallow a disappointed sigh. He turned all the way onto his back, since he was more comfortable that way anyway, being careful to keep his breathing deep and even.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the hand still hadn't returned, and Harry was starting to buzz in nearly painful anticipation.
Harry risked cracking one eye open, and gasped. Remus was looking right back at him, eyes dark and hooded, but still glowing dimly in the dark.
They stared silently for endless moments, the only clearly visible parts of each other being two brilliant pairs of eyes. Harry was breathing heavily through his mouth, and Remus still hadn't moved, though Harry thought he could actually feel the weight of that gaze. Right down to his crotch.
Harry's breath was now coming through his open mouth in little gasps. He knew that gaze was moving-- from his mouth down to the hollow of his neck and from his neck down to his nipples (which turned rigid), and finally to his cock (heavy and thick against his stomach).
The longer that look lasted, the harder Harry got, and he knew they both knew. He thought he might burst from the sheer blinding tension if Remus didn't touch him. Right now. And yet he still couldn't move, as helpless as if under a binding spell.
He shut his eyes, pressing his thighs together desperately, though that didn't help at all. If Remus didn't do something, he wished he would just leave, because Harry couldn't watch anymore.
"Remus," he hissed at last, and to his pure shock, Remus moaned.
Before he knew what was happening, there was a scorching rush of heat right where he needed it most. Right where he craved it. Skin against skin.
It took Harry a shuddering, incredible moment to realize that this was Remus' hand. Wrapped around him.
Harry whimpered piteously, sounding almost scared.
"It's all right, Harry," Remus said, a bit breathless. He started to remove his hand from Harry's pajama bottom with a painful sort of care. "I understand you're--" Remus' eyes were shut tight and his breath hitched when Harry's hand closed firmly over his, interrupting.
"Shhh...." Harry fought yet another shiver. Remus' hand was just so warm. Harry's toes curled. He couldn't help it, even though some distant part of him couldn't believe he was acting this way. "No," he whispered roughly. "No, you really don't. But that's okay, see. I'll show you."
He pressed up slightly, pushing himself further into Remus' firm, dry grasp. Remus' eyes snapped open, wide and almost amber in the light of the nearly full moon. Harry reached with his free hand, pulling Remus' neck down with a reckless force borne of desperation. Remus wound up half sprawled across Harry's chest, arm trapped between them.
For an interminable moment, Harry thought that Remus was going to push himself free. Their mouths were a hair's-breadth away and the distance seemed infinite, because it just hit him that this was Remus Lupin and what he was doing was completely unreal. Harry's mouth had dried up and his will deserted him, looking into those eyes at pointblank range.
Harry's mouth opened, though he didn't have a clue what he could possibly say, but all that came out was a tiny moan.
Remus' eyes burned into his with bruising force, his chest rumbling deeply against Harry's, who was starting to function in a state of mild shock. His eyes were open as far as they would go, and his whole body shook like it would never stop.
Neither one could tell which of them actually did it. Something just snapped, and the next thing they knew, their tongues were in each other's mouths.
Both their eyes were open, and Harry was breathing the soft, warm air from Remus' mouth. Remus' tongue was rough and velvety, completely alien against Harry's, but it was unmistakably there. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head and he whimpered incoherently.
Harry pushed against the palm still wrapped around him, his hips thrusting in an erratic rhythm as Remus shuddered gently, groaning low in his throat. They were both moaning into the kiss, but Remus was still holding back. Harry growled, biting at Remus' lower lip and licking across it, feeling a rising sense of heady power when Remus pulled faster.
That was gone before he'd ever had the chance to get used to it, however.
It didn't take much-- just a few more quick, almost uncomfortably tight jerks, and Harry gasped loudly, tearing his mouth away as his balls started to let go. It was over before he'd quite realized it began. With another small, fierce whimper, his hips pumping shallowly.
"Yeah-- yeah-- oh yeah-- fffuh-- nnngh--" Harry swallowed a drawn-out wail by sheer habit and spilled himself in several silent, hot bursts across Remus' fist and his own stomach.
Remus remained silent, those feral eyes wide and unblinking as his hand continued to move mercilessly hard over Harry's softening erection. He would've seemed unmoved if not for the way his lips had pulled back over his teeth, his gaze unwavering and none too gentle.
After a minute of breathless panting, his head thrown back against the pillows and his eyes fixed unseeingly upon the ceiling, Harry moved, half-hoping to return the favor, half afraid.
He didn't know whether it was relief he felt, finding that Remus had already gone, or if that was some starker emotion already coiling within his stomach.
Right before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, Harry thought he had to feel that rush again, and next time he wasn't going to let him go until he was the one to come undone.
~~~~
And upon saying these words, this wicked Wolfe fell upon the little Red Riding-Hood, and eat her up.. . .
There was a full moon that night, and Remus was unusually quiet at breakfast, though of course this wasn't the only reason. He passed Harry the butter without the customary smile and hadn't looked up when Harry came in. It had been two days already, and the strangeness was apparently here to stay, only getting worse with time.
In retrospect, Harry thought he should've known better, about this as about other things. Nothing came without a price there says, not even this. Whatever 'this' was, and Harry was certainly not giving 'this' a name while Remus was-- Remus wasn't-- Remus--
"Aargh! I give up, Remus! If you want me to leave, just say so, all right? I can't bloody take it anymore, not from you too, sod it all to hell!"
Remus blinked at him slowly, as if waking up, and then equally slowly, almost painfully, his mouth began to move, though for a moment or two it made no sound. He ducked his head, muttering softly under his breath, his words not really intended for an audience.
"I'll learn one of these days, Harry. I know I will," he said, sipping almost clumsily at the ever-present mug in his hands. Remus wore the cut-off gloves even in the morning. Harry never actually saw him without them during the day, and he was starting to become entirely consumed with wanting know what sort of awful mark must lay underneath.
Harry took a deep breath, letting it out carefully as he gave Remus a wary look. "I won't wait around forever, Remus," Harry began, but Remus cut him off, laughing softly, much to Harry's consternation.
"Oh no, I'd never ask you to, dear god!" Remus' eyes were sparkling softly when they met Harry's own. "No, I'm just a crusty old man, Harry, holding onto things just a trifle too long. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." He sighed briefly. "And I've been too much of a coward to ask you for the forgiveness I don't deserve. All I can ask is that you don't doubt I wish you--"
"Remus!" Harry cried, completely exasperated. "You know that's not what I wanted, I--"
"Of course you didn't, Harry, but nonetheless you deserve--"
"I-- you're-- you're-- god, I can't say it right." Harry bit down on his lower lip, trying to project his need with his eyes alone. Remus wasn't looking at him, and he felt like if he didn't get it out now, it would be too late, somehow. "I'm no good at this, but-- god-- I just-- want you." Harry flushed. "There, I said it."
Remus' head snapped up, and he stared at Harry mutely, apparently struck speechless. Harry didn't know whether to be encouraged or even more mortified. His face was flaming worse than well-- ever. Still, he couldn't seem to stop, come what may.
Harry's voice turned throaty, almost unrecognizable in its sudden thickness. "You're so-- Remus, please-- don't-- aaagh--"
He sat down heavily in the chair next to Remus', dragging it even closer, so their thighs bumped together. Harry found he enjoyed seeing that look on Remus' face almost a little too much-- suddenly open and caught and kind of flustered about it, too. He liked being the one to make Remus Lupin fluster, even if it was fleeting. He could get rather used to the feeling, Harry thought wildly.
A single finger trailed lingeringly up the other man's thigh, pausing right next to Remus' crotch. Remus exhaled tremulously, looking both somewhat scandalized and clearly aroused.
"You have a one-track mind, you know that?" he breathed, but he didn't pull away.
"I'm eighteen and I'm really bloody horny, what can I say?" Harry laughed weakly. "What about you?"
Remus' eyes turned slitted, and Harry thought that any moment, he'd bare his teeth again. The thought gave him a sharp, almost painful tingle that ran straight down, filling his cock with blood.
"I'm starving," the wolf said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: Written for the HP Flashficathon Harry/Remus post-Hogwarts request. Very vaguely inspired by "The Little Red Riding Hood" fairy-tale as told by Charles Perrault.
- A Handful of Hollow -
It was the first day of the rest of his life, and Harry supposed he should be celebrating. Maybe he should feel different, somehow, being eighteen. Of age to get as drunk as humanly possible. That was a good thing, wasn't it?
Harry could almost see the headlines: "The Boy Who Lived Again, seen stumbling drunkenly through Diagon Alley! Has his new flame left him? Has he lost his direction in life? Is he looking for his lost childhood? Is the world ready for an adult Harry Potter at large? Read and find out!"
Still, he was of age to never have to look at his dreadful blood relatives' faces for the rest of his adult life. Of age not to care what anyone thought, except that would be fooling himself. He was of age to know better.
Harry tugged his red hood further over his forehead in what had become a nervous gesture, even though he scar had faded almost to blend with his normal skin. He really was "just Harry" now, though the thought wasn't as much comfort as it should have been. Complete freedom to go where he pleased, and in the end he just wanted to go home again.
So here he was. As close to home as Harry Potter had these days, even though Remus had never actually gotten around to adopting him-- not that Harry would have allowed it, most likely. He wasn't ready. He'd had that particular conversation with Remus in his own head any number of times: he appreciated the gesture, but it was all right. He didn't have to. It was good enough. He would keep it in mind. He didn't need a piece of paper. He wanted his freedom to walk where his eyes took him. He didn't want any more parental figures. He's had enough.
Harry had as many excuses as he had sleepless nights to make them in, though Remus had never asked.
And now, he supposed there was nothing to be done for it. It was Grimmauld Place or some hotel, most likely, not too far away, in some reasonably priced part of Muggle London. Harry didn't want to stay in a hotel on his birthday.
He'd wanted to get away from the public eye for awhile, that much was certainly true-- just not abandon everyone and everything he was still lucky enough to have, in the process. There weren't a whole lot of options, and all the galleons in the world didn't change that. He couldn't bear to be around Mrs. Weasley right now, not with the looks she'd been giving him since Percy died, even though she kept trying to reassure Harry that she didn't blame him. And Ron-- Ron needed time.
They all needed time, Harry supposed, which was rather convenient since now, time was pretty much what they had. Time and more past they knew what to do with, along with a future neither bright nor dark. It was just there, and so were they.
Harry could see the churning of time no matter whose eyes he looked into. He couldn't seem to actually see his friends anymore-- not as they were. He'd even looked into Malfoy's eyes in sheer frustration, their last day at Hogwarts. He hadn't been expecting anything, or at least that's what he'd told himself, but he certainly didn't find it, either.
Malfoy's eyes had the most unnerving, unseeing stare to them, like he saw right through Harry. Not even Malfoy had remained the same, though Harry supposed he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.
"Move along, Potter," Malfoy had said, his voice flat. Apparently, Harry had been staring too long. Taking up space too long, even in Malfoy's world-- perhaps in Malfoy's especially.
Remus was different. He had the same calm glance, giving Harry a once-over and nodding briskly. Harry let out a breath, somehow relieved even though he hadn't realized how much he'd been dreading this moment. An empty house, echoing with Sirius. Sirius sitting between them at breakfast, Sirius' laughter drifting down the stairs at odd times, Sirius' relatives staring down at them from the empty slots where their portraits used to be. It could've been a tomb and his stay there, an extended wake.
~~
Instead, it was just Remus with a cup of tea still steaming in a gloved hand, leaning casually against the doorframe. He was smiling softly and quirking an eyebrow at Harry's old canvas backpack slung over one shoulder and the ever-conspicuous red hood worn under a Tower Bridge baseball cap. Harry Potter: Muggle Tourist. There were worse things to be.
Remus didn't say anything for a while, just looking at him with those too-knowing eyes of his, somehow making it seem much more like a greeting than an interrogation. When the pause began to seem almost awkward, Harry stretched out a hand sheepishly, and Remus took it. Remus' hand felt very warm and dry, probably from having held the steaming mug. Harry was reminded of the fact that he was standing in front of the only person he felt comfortable being silent with these days. Harry didn't fight the beginnings of a rueful smile.
"Go ahead, Professor. You can say it."
Remus chuckled softly, his eyes warmer than Harry remembered them, though the shadows around them remained deep as ever. "Come on in, Harry. Unless this is just part of your prolonged London tour...?"
"So you've heard," he said, breaking into a grin at the other's eloquently lifted eyebrow.
Harry caught himself noticing the loosened set of other man's shoulders, the knots of discomfort below his own neck easing just a fraction in response. He stepped across the threshold with a small laugh.
"Yeah, not bloody likely," he muttered. "Now, Paris, on the other hand--" Harry's grin broadened.
"I could tell you some things about Paris, Harry. Make your hair stand on end."
"It does that already, Mr. Lupin."
"Ah," Remus said wisely. "Care for a spot of tea while you tell me your itinerary then, Mr. Potter?"
~~~~
He asked of her whither she was going: The poor child, who did not know how dangerous a thing it is to stay and hear a Wolfe talk. . .
They were both heading towards the kitchen by unspoken agreement already, and it made Harry's mood even lighter to realize that he didn't really need to talk to Remus, and he'd be easily understood in some day-to-day basic way. This was how they'd all learned to exist, lately, so it was just as well. Day by day and hour by hour and look to look to reassure them.
With Remus, the looks just carried more weight, that's all.
"Yeah," Harry said unnecessarily. "I'd like that."
He thought he could feel Remus' smile even with the other's back turned. "Good," he said. "There's only so much tea a body could drink by himself before the situation turns drastic, you understand."
Unexpectedly, Harry's eyes prickled a bit. This was almost too easy; too bloody comfortable, and he didn't quite know how to handle it all at once. The sheer relief....
"I understand," he said softly, and waited before he was seated at the long table before speaking again. Remus didn't mind silence, which is something Harry appreciated more now than he might have previously. "It's going to be all right, isn't it, Remus?" And that wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.
Remus turned from where he'd stood with his back turned to Harry and looked him in the eye, acting as if Muggle-style water heating was an everyday thing at Grimmauld Place. It probably was-- if anything, it would piss off Mrs. Black. A corner of his mouth lifted as he regarded Harry steadily.
"That it is, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I'm going to Bulgaria first, I think."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Harry said, finding that he was almost looking forward to it, which was a nice sort of surprise. "Hermione wouldn't listen to reason, you know. She had to do what she had to do, and this time it was some sort of tour of Eastern Europe. She said she'll be in Romania next." Harry laughed. "I suspect it's all a cover-up since she's still got some sort of... thing going on with Krum. But don't tell her I said that. Officially, it's all for 'research' for some sort of Ministry internship. Kind of shady if you ask me."
Remus chuckled. "She's never listened to reason before, so why start now?" They shared a long-suffering look. "Don't worry, Harry. My lips are sealed, should I have the pleasure of Miss Granger's company in the near future."
Harry sighed, startled yet again by that strong sense of relief he felt, just being here.
The house was perpetually cool and damp as if it were always raining hard outside, except where Remus was. He seemed to bring an oasis of dry warmth with him, not overwhelming or even very obvious. It was just there, a part of Remus.
Harry inhaled deeply, trying to place the strange aroma rising off the mug Remus had handed him. "What is that?" he asked at last, sipping with all due caution. His tongue still burned, but Harry found he didn't mind.
Remus grinned rakishly, and Harry's chest gave a pang. Sometimes there was just something in the smile, or the way Remus moved. Something about the body-language that wasn't quite entirely his. Harry wondered if he'd held on to those tidbits of him on purpose or if it was something he couldn't control or was even unaware of. Harry cocked his head, making no secret of watching.
"Uh-uh, not so easy, Harry. A good cook keeps his secrets, does he not?"
"Cook?" Harry repeated incredulously. He couldn't hide the smile completely, but then, he didn't want to.
Remus made a small show of being affronted. "Yes. Cook. And a very good one, too, if I do say so myself."
Harry bit his lip, pretending to consider all the serious ramifications gamely. "All right. So what will it take then, Remus. To know one of your secrets, I mean?"
Remus grew still, blowing carefully at the edge of his own cup. Harry shifted restlessly, watching him, eyes lingering momentarily on the light sheen of moisture condensing on Remus' upper lip.
He hadn't quite meant to ask it like that, but the tea was pleasantly hot and he was too relaxed to for apprehension. Harry's eyes unfocused, the tea seeming to sing along his nerves in a soothing way.
"Every secret has a different price, I believe," Remus said slowly. "This one... well, I'd say it would be roughly equal to you making dinner." Was that a smirk he was unsuccessfully concealing?
Harry started, and his smile was quick and sharp. "I could do that," he said easily.
"For a week, say," Remus added, rubbing his chin. "Give or take, that is."
"You drive a hard bargain, Professor."
"I intend to."
Harry felt something within him unknot yet another notch. "Well, it's working. You've got a deal. This had better be worth it, too." What were they talking about, again? He couldn't remember precisely, not while Remus smiled so widely. Harry shook himself. This wasn't on. Remus couldn't be allowed to run circles around him that easily-- although it was quite clear to Harry by now that Remus could run circles around anyone he chose to. "So pay up."
Remus' look was pure false innocence. "As you wish, Harry." Whatever the reason he gave, it won't be enough to cover his symptoms, Harry thought. "I brew my tea with a slight tonic potion, that's all."
"A tonic potion, Professor?"
Harry's former professor appeared to find the tabletop extremely interesting, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth looked suspiciously like mischief. "That's what I said, yes."
"Are you admitting to having drugged me, Remus?"
"Oh no, nothing of the sort, Harry." Remus took a judicious sip from his own cup. "If I wanted to drug you, you'd have little enough room for doubt I'd imagine. This just makes you feel a bit better." The little twitch of the mouth disappeared as quickly as it came, and Remus' look was completely serious. "Do you?"
Harry didn't take long to think. "Yeah."
"Jolly good," Remus said, the intensity fading as if it had never been. "Almost time for dinner then, don't you think?"
"It's barely past noon," Harry protested.
"Well then, I suppose that means you have enough time to get out of this moldy old house, eh?"
~~~~
Well, said the Wolfe, and I'll go and see her too; I'll go this way, and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.. . .
And quite suddenly, Harry realized that he had nowhere he'd rather be. He looked at Remus' tired face and saw one of the only true friends he'd had. "I don't know," Harry said finally. "I might get lost out there."
Remus looked startled for a moment. "Not with me to point you home."
"I don't need a chaperone anymore, Remus."
"Who said anything about a chaperone?" Remus didn't sound offended at all, to Harry's surprise. Rather nice not to be taken too seriously. "I don't suppose you've found all the good places to get smashingly drunk around here by now, have you?"
"You don't mean-- some sort of-- celebration...?" Harry said suspiciously.
"Not at all. I mean an old-fashioned outing. Do you still have those these days? It's a good day outside, I believe."
"Let me put away my bag first," Harry said, poking his modest backpack with a foot and laughing a bit to himself.
"Take your time, Harry," Remus said, not looking up as Harry got up to find his old room upstairs. "And happy birthday, by the way. When would you like your cake?"
There was the smallest of pauses. "Now is good," Harry said seriously.
Remus nodded. "Now is always good when it comes to cake, isn't it? I'll let you in on another little secret, though."
"Oh?"
"I can't bake. We'll have to go get it. Do you think you're up for that, Harry?"
"A cakewalk, you mean?" Harry snorted. He was still no good at being deadpan. Not like Remus was.
"You catch on fast, my boy."
"Just let me pull on my cunning disguise--" Harry snickered, putting his hooded red cloak back on. "How do I look? Are you fooled yet?"
Remus shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, Harry Potter?"
"I don't mind surprises," Harry said lightly, following Remus out into the London summer afternoon.
~~~~
The little red Riding-Hood, who hearing the big voice of the Wolfe, was at first afraid. . .
The third night Harry woke up screaming again, the sheets clinging wetly to his back, gasping for air, Remus was there. A warm hand was clutching at his shoulder, shaking him gently awake.
"Harry-- Harry!"
Harry groaned, falling back onto the rumpled pillow. This was just what he needed-- for Remus to think he was still some high-strung unstable teenager in need of care. "Remus?" he croaked groggily, then tried again. "What-- what happened?"
Remus kept holding on to his forearm, and Harry could see his eyes glinting brightly at him even in the cloaking dark of the room. "I don't know, Harry. You tell me."
It was the old voice. The no-nonsense professor voice.
Harry sighed silently, feeling the beginnings of a splitting headache approaching fast. "I don't think I remember," he said, licking at his dry mouth, and it was halfway true, even. He never quite remembered, but it was always the bloody same anyway. Just what he needed, too. More concerned faces when he woke up.
"Are you taking the potions for this?"
Harry blinked up owlishly at the fuzzy dark form hovering above him, hands scrabbling for his glasses at the bedside table. "N-no," he muttered, slipping them on and wincing. It wasn't dawn yet, and Remus was sure to have questions now.
"Fine, we'll deal with that later. Do you think you can go back to sleep, or do you need to talk about it?"
He couldn't see Remus' features even with the flickering light from the hallway, but he thought the other man was looking even more tense and haggard than Harry felt, nightmare or no. "I'm okay, Remus." He tried to project complete certainty, even if in vain.
"That, I doubt. Go to sleep now. I'll sit by you," Remus said, and his voice brooked no argument. There was no chair by Harry's bed, and Remus was already perched at the edge of it and didn't need to move. Harry breathed in deeply. He supposed it could be worse.
Experimentally, Harry rolled over onto his belly, burying his face in the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. If he concentrated, he could hear more suspicious creaks and mutters than he'd have thought possible, after all this time. He must have drifted off, though, because it was startling to realize that there was something resting on his back, and it was-- nice. Very nice.
More than nice.
~~~~
The Wolfe seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the clothes. Put the custard, and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come into bed with me.. . .
Remus' hand felt so hot through the thin cotton of Harry's pajama-top, yet Harry had to repress a shiver. He wasn't moving his hand at all-- it was just resting there, on Harry's back, sending random shots of electricity to his extremities. Harry's breathing speeded up; he just couldn't help it, and he tensed. Now Remus knew he was awake... or did he?
Unable to remain still, Harry groaned in sincere sleepiness and started to move. Almost immediately, the hand disappeared, and Harry had to swallow a disappointed sigh. He turned all the way onto his back, since he was more comfortable that way anyway, being careful to keep his breathing deep and even.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the hand still hadn't returned, and Harry was starting to buzz in nearly painful anticipation.
Harry risked cracking one eye open, and gasped. Remus was looking right back at him, eyes dark and hooded, but still glowing dimly in the dark.
They stared silently for endless moments, the only clearly visible parts of each other being two brilliant pairs of eyes. Harry was breathing heavily through his mouth, and Remus still hadn't moved, though Harry thought he could actually feel the weight of that gaze. Right down to his crotch.
Harry's breath was now coming through his open mouth in little gasps. He knew that gaze was moving-- from his mouth down to the hollow of his neck and from his neck down to his nipples (which turned rigid), and finally to his cock (heavy and thick against his stomach).
The longer that look lasted, the harder Harry got, and he knew they both knew. He thought he might burst from the sheer blinding tension if Remus didn't touch him. Right now. And yet he still couldn't move, as helpless as if under a binding spell.
He shut his eyes, pressing his thighs together desperately, though that didn't help at all. If Remus didn't do something, he wished he would just leave, because Harry couldn't watch anymore.
"Remus," he hissed at last, and to his pure shock, Remus moaned.
Before he knew what was happening, there was a scorching rush of heat right where he needed it most. Right where he craved it. Skin against skin.
It took Harry a shuddering, incredible moment to realize that this was Remus' hand. Wrapped around him.
Harry whimpered piteously, sounding almost scared.
"It's all right, Harry," Remus said, a bit breathless. He started to remove his hand from Harry's pajama bottom with a painful sort of care. "I understand you're--" Remus' eyes were shut tight and his breath hitched when Harry's hand closed firmly over his, interrupting.
"Shhh...." Harry fought yet another shiver. Remus' hand was just so warm. Harry's toes curled. He couldn't help it, even though some distant part of him couldn't believe he was acting this way. "No," he whispered roughly. "No, you really don't. But that's okay, see. I'll show you."
He pressed up slightly, pushing himself further into Remus' firm, dry grasp. Remus' eyes snapped open, wide and almost amber in the light of the nearly full moon. Harry reached with his free hand, pulling Remus' neck down with a reckless force borne of desperation. Remus wound up half sprawled across Harry's chest, arm trapped between them.
For an interminable moment, Harry thought that Remus was going to push himself free. Their mouths were a hair's-breadth away and the distance seemed infinite, because it just hit him that this was Remus Lupin and what he was doing was completely unreal. Harry's mouth had dried up and his will deserted him, looking into those eyes at pointblank range.
Harry's mouth opened, though he didn't have a clue what he could possibly say, but all that came out was a tiny moan.
Remus' eyes burned into his with bruising force, his chest rumbling deeply against Harry's, who was starting to function in a state of mild shock. His eyes were open as far as they would go, and his whole body shook like it would never stop.
Neither one could tell which of them actually did it. Something just snapped, and the next thing they knew, their tongues were in each other's mouths.
Both their eyes were open, and Harry was breathing the soft, warm air from Remus' mouth. Remus' tongue was rough and velvety, completely alien against Harry's, but it was unmistakably there. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head and he whimpered incoherently.
Harry pushed against the palm still wrapped around him, his hips thrusting in an erratic rhythm as Remus shuddered gently, groaning low in his throat. They were both moaning into the kiss, but Remus was still holding back. Harry growled, biting at Remus' lower lip and licking across it, feeling a rising sense of heady power when Remus pulled faster.
That was gone before he'd ever had the chance to get used to it, however.
It didn't take much-- just a few more quick, almost uncomfortably tight jerks, and Harry gasped loudly, tearing his mouth away as his balls started to let go. It was over before he'd quite realized it began. With another small, fierce whimper, his hips pumping shallowly.
"Yeah-- yeah-- oh yeah-- fffuh-- nnngh--" Harry swallowed a drawn-out wail by sheer habit and spilled himself in several silent, hot bursts across Remus' fist and his own stomach.
Remus remained silent, those feral eyes wide and unblinking as his hand continued to move mercilessly hard over Harry's softening erection. He would've seemed unmoved if not for the way his lips had pulled back over his teeth, his gaze unwavering and none too gentle.
After a minute of breathless panting, his head thrown back against the pillows and his eyes fixed unseeingly upon the ceiling, Harry moved, half-hoping to return the favor, half afraid.
He didn't know whether it was relief he felt, finding that Remus had already gone, or if that was some starker emotion already coiling within his stomach.
Right before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, Harry thought he had to feel that rush again, and next time he wasn't going to let him go until he was the one to come undone.
~~~~
And upon saying these words, this wicked Wolfe fell upon the little Red Riding-Hood, and eat her up.. . .
There was a full moon that night, and Remus was unusually quiet at breakfast, though of course this wasn't the only reason. He passed Harry the butter without the customary smile and hadn't looked up when Harry came in. It had been two days already, and the strangeness was apparently here to stay, only getting worse with time.
In retrospect, Harry thought he should've known better, about this as about other things. Nothing came without a price there says, not even this. Whatever 'this' was, and Harry was certainly not giving 'this' a name while Remus was-- Remus wasn't-- Remus--
"Aargh! I give up, Remus! If you want me to leave, just say so, all right? I can't bloody take it anymore, not from you too, sod it all to hell!"
Remus blinked at him slowly, as if waking up, and then equally slowly, almost painfully, his mouth began to move, though for a moment or two it made no sound. He ducked his head, muttering softly under his breath, his words not really intended for an audience.
"I'll learn one of these days, Harry. I know I will," he said, sipping almost clumsily at the ever-present mug in his hands. Remus wore the cut-off gloves even in the morning. Harry never actually saw him without them during the day, and he was starting to become entirely consumed with wanting know what sort of awful mark must lay underneath.
Harry took a deep breath, letting it out carefully as he gave Remus a wary look. "I won't wait around forever, Remus," Harry began, but Remus cut him off, laughing softly, much to Harry's consternation.
"Oh no, I'd never ask you to, dear god!" Remus' eyes were sparkling softly when they met Harry's own. "No, I'm just a crusty old man, Harry, holding onto things just a trifle too long. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." He sighed briefly. "And I've been too much of a coward to ask you for the forgiveness I don't deserve. All I can ask is that you don't doubt I wish you--"
"Remus!" Harry cried, completely exasperated. "You know that's not what I wanted, I--"
"Of course you didn't, Harry, but nonetheless you deserve--"
"I-- you're-- you're-- god, I can't say it right." Harry bit down on his lower lip, trying to project his need with his eyes alone. Remus wasn't looking at him, and he felt like if he didn't get it out now, it would be too late, somehow. "I'm no good at this, but-- god-- I just-- want you." Harry flushed. "There, I said it."
Remus' head snapped up, and he stared at Harry mutely, apparently struck speechless. Harry didn't know whether to be encouraged or even more mortified. His face was flaming worse than well-- ever. Still, he couldn't seem to stop, come what may.
Harry's voice turned throaty, almost unrecognizable in its sudden thickness. "You're so-- Remus, please-- don't-- aaagh--"
He sat down heavily in the chair next to Remus', dragging it even closer, so their thighs bumped together. Harry found he enjoyed seeing that look on Remus' face almost a little too much-- suddenly open and caught and kind of flustered about it, too. He liked being the one to make Remus Lupin fluster, even if it was fleeting. He could get rather used to the feeling, Harry thought wildly.
A single finger trailed lingeringly up the other man's thigh, pausing right next to Remus' crotch. Remus exhaled tremulously, looking both somewhat scandalized and clearly aroused.
"You have a one-track mind, you know that?" he breathed, but he didn't pull away.
"I'm eighteen and I'm really bloody horny, what can I say?" Harry laughed weakly. "What about you?"
Remus' eyes turned slitted, and Harry thought that any moment, he'd bare his teeth again. The thought gave him a sharp, almost painful tingle that ran straight down, filling his cock with blood.
"I'm starving," the wolf said.
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