One down, six to go...
Nyah, I finished my first piece for 7spells. It's the longest piece of fanfiction (except for one multi-chaptered one I did for another fandom a few years ago) that I've written to date, and I'm somewhat excited and nervous at the same time about positing it. But... here we go!
Title: What's Right
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Remus
Prompt: 7. Sleepwalk
Warnings: Angst, Character death previous to story (neither of the characters in pairing)
Word Count: 4,646
What's Right
“I hate this damn house,” Harry announced for the fifth time that morning, depositing one of the couch cushions rather violently on the floor.
“As do I,” Remus sighed. “But if we don’t keep it, it’ll go to Tonks.” He gritted his teeth. “We both know that she can’t handle it, especially with the baby on the way.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Today had been assigned as cleaning day, since no one except for highly trained magic inspectors had been inside the house for almost two years, and there was quite a bit of dust to be done away with, among other things. The war with Voldemort was over, it had been for nearly half a year, and Remus’s relationship with Tonks had unexpectedly gone with it. Towards the end of the war when he’d still been working to keep the werewolves who weren’t personal friends of Greyback’s at bay, she’d been extremely lonely and paired up with Kingsley on her assignments. After the chaos of the final battle was over and Voldemort had been confirmed deceased, she’d sat Remus down and told him that though she was very sorry, she was still pregnant with Shacklebolt’s child. Remus had talked to her all of twice since. The first time she’d begged him to take the house since he was Sirius’s friend and she really couldn’t, even though the Ministry had deemed her entitled to it. The second time was to announce that that she was doing the paperwork so that it’d half belong to Harry, considering Harry was Sirius’s godson. Remus’d insisted that she just give Harry the entire bloody thing, but apparently she thought it’d be good for both men to have some company, since they’d both been rather reserved lately. Remus’d snorted at her owl, but sent back a message of consent all the same. Such things weren’t very important.
Harry sighed in response to Remus’s retort, but didn’t reply, proceeding instead to take the remaining two cushions off the couch. A moment later he cringed backwards in disgust. “There’s some… dead thing that nested in the couch, I think,” Harry said.
Remus sighed. Sometimes, he had no luck at all.
***
“You’re not a bad cook, you know,” Harry told Remus at dinner that night. “This stew’s really nice.”
“Hmm,” was all Remus replied with.
“Really, it’s quite good,” Harry ventured again.
“Mmm.”
“Pass the salt, please?”
Remus did it wordlessly, staring into his soup.
“Remus, what’s the matter?” Harry asked.
Remus’s head snapped back up. “Are you really going to ask me that?” he inquired, voice low. He stood up, shoving his stew aside. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, and slunk off in the direction of his new bedroom.
***
“You sound like Snape sometimes when you’re miserable, you know,” Harry said, walking into Remus’s bedroom an hour after supper, wanting to give the werewolf some time to himself.
Remus laughed dryly, closing his book and placing it next to him on the small table next to his bed. “I’m rather bitter, so I suppose I’m somewhat of a terrible house-mate. I’m sorry, Harry. Please forgive me if I’ve taken things out on you.”
“It’s… all right,” Harry replied, sitting himself down on the duvet at the foot of Remus’s bed. “But it doesn’t improve anyone’s mood. We’ve both been through it hell, you know. So I can understand that.”
“… I’m sorry, Harry.”
“There’s no need to be sorry,” Harry said, glancing down at his trainers, “But we’ve got to cheer up. Sirius and McGonagall and Dumbledore and Ron would’ve wanted it, you know.” Harry fought to keep his emotions in; he’d mourned for them all enough already. And he didn’t want to break down in front of Remus - in front of anyone, for that matter. He had his grief, and he suffered with it, but he wouldn’t - he couldn’t - cry any more. “And we can’t let… failed things ruin us either.” Harry was full aware of what had happened between Remus and Tonks, and his relationship with Ginny hadn’t worked out how he’d hoped after the war either. It had turned them into different people, and Ginny needed someone that was a lot more stable for her than Harry was. They weren’t meant to be.
Remus shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Do you sleepwalk?” Remus asked him, abruptly changing the subject.
“No,” Harry replied automatically, deciding to drop the subject, at least for now. “Why?”
“I do. Have ever since… Sirius passed. Dunno why, but the regular potion doesn’t work to keep me in my bed. So if you hear something clunking about in the night…”
***
“Remus. Pst, Remus! Reeeeeeeeeeemus.”
“Mph?”
“Remus, are you awake?” Harry tiptoed into the bedroom and stood over him. He tipped his head down, inches from Remus’s face. “Remus?”
“Yagh!” Remus shouted, jumping up and bumping his head against Harry’s.
“Ow, that hurt!” Harry cried, rubbing his head as Remus searched blindly in the dark for the knob that would turn the light on. He found it and flicked it, gazing up to find Harry standing in front of him, clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.
“God, Harry, you scared me! What are you doing up?” Remus asked.
“I’m eighteen. What would I be doing sleeping at this hour of the night?” Harry grinned.
“What time is it?” Remus asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Just past one in the morning.”
Remus sighed. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing in here then?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry stated simply, nervously threading his hands through his sleep-mused hair.
Remus fixed him with a questioning stare, “I thought you said you didn’t sleep at this hour anyway,” he stated.
Harry shrugged.
“Do you want to talk?” Remus asked, baffled as to why the boy would come into his room for no reason.
“No, I don’t want to talk,” Harry said.
Remus chuckled. “That doesn’t make much sense.”
Harry moved up the bed and turned off Remus’s light, bathing the two in darkness.
“Why did y-?” Remus asked.
“Can I stay in here tonight?” Harry cut him off.
Remus frowned. “Why?” he asked.
“Nevermind. I’m just going to stay on the floor,” Harry said. He muttered something and Remus heard the sound of pillows hitting the floor. The boy must have conjured himself a sleeping bag.
***
Remus jerked awake in the middle of the night, not having a clue as to what could have woke him. His breathing was labored and his legs were swung to the side of the bed, as if he he’d been trying to get off it. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he began to calm down - until he realized that his legs were actually resting on someone else’s. He flailed for the lamp again, getting his torso half off the bed before having it pushed back down, gently but firmly, by someone’s hand.
“Shhh, Remus, it’s okay,” Harry soothed.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” Remus blurted out, heart pounding.
There was a brief silence. “Umm…” Harry stalled, seeming a bit flustered at the question. “You sort of stepped on me. I guess you were about to get started sleepwalking, but I didn’t want you to fall down the stairs or something, so I got up and pushed you back into bed. And you’re okay and awake now, so I’ll just…” Harry rolled himself down onto the floor. “G’night, Remus.”
Remus pulled the covers up around his neck and turned over, trying not to think.
***
At eleven o’ clock the next evening Remus padded over to the bookshelf and replaced the book he’d been reading, some disturbing thing that had been written by Phineas Nigellus and attempted to explain why it was good for purebloods to breed within their closer extended family. He set off for the stairs and went up them into his room, gently shutting the door behind him. He was so tired. Grimmauld Place had already started to take its toll on him. He yawned as he yanked open an old wardrobe where he was currently storing all the clothing he owned, and pulled his bathrobe out of it. Throwing it onto the bed, he pulled his pajamas out from where he’d shoved them behind his pillow and got to work undressing.
***
Harry stepped quietly down the hallway, trying not to make any noise. He’d just gotten in from the Muggle pub out in town, where he’d gone just to talk; see what the locals were like. It was a good distraction, an excuse not to answer the latest owl Hermione had sent him, all but begging him to come to dinner at the Weasley’s, just once. She’d been incredibly worried about him lately, but he couldn’t go see her and the Weasleys; they reminded him to much of Ron, of the utter lack of Ron.
He noticed the light coming out from under Remus’s door as he approached it, and stopped for a moment just in front of it. He held his breath, listening to the sound of clothes dropping and fabric moving over skin. Harry shook his head. What was he doing? He was about to move forward when he heard Remus step towards the door.
***
Remus had intended on having a relaxing cuppa mixed with a Dreamless Sleep Draught before finally getting to bed, but tea strayed from his mind as he opened the old wooden door to see Harry staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Er,” Harry said.
“Would you like some tea?” Remus asked, not even bothering to wonder why Harry was standing in his doorway; things that made no sense had become a rather regular occurrence in his house.
“No, thanks, I’m going to… be off to bed.” Harry nodded vigorously and all but ran down the hall to his room, leaving Remus standing in his doorway.
Remus blinked, sighed, and shuffled off downstairs for his tea.
***
Harry’s heart pounded as he locked his door behind him, throwing himself onto the bed. What had just happened?
Harry’d been so confused lately. In the months following the final fall of Voldemort, Harry had been proclaimed a hero, once again, and given an Order of Merlin, First Class, along with several other major honors. He’d been interviewed and photographed and goggled at like an animal in the zoo, and he’d hated it. Now that things had died down a bit… he missed the distraction it provided. Being too busy to think about the future was a very easy way of avoiding it. He had no idea what he was doing anymore, or why he did the things he did. In the quiet of Grimmauld Place, he was forced to wonder why, and he hated it.
He had no idea what he was going to do with his life, either. He couldn’t deal with thinking about that, most of the time. Whenever he did, he realized that his job, the one he’d always had, to defeat Voldemort, had been completed. What more was left for him? His one purpose had been fulfilled, hadn’t it? It didn’t matter that it was a purpose that others had given him, wasn’t that what everyone had considered him good for?
Harry wished he had an excuse not to think about it. Any excuse, any at all. He just needed something, something… soon. He flipped onto his stomach and shoved his face in his pillow.
***
Three nights later, Harry snuck into Remus’s room.
“Remus, are you awake?” he asked, a note of something in his voice.
Thanks to a recent bout of insomnia, Remus was, though he really didn’t want to ponder why Harry was coming to him again. “Yes, what it is, Harry?” he asked, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Harry switched on the light, and Remus sat up, shielding his eyes. “I think I need to talk,” Harry said. Remus paused, nodded, and motioned for Harry to sit on the end on the bed, pushing himself upright.
“What’s the matter?” Remus asked, staring at Harry, trying not to note the fact that Harry had changed pajamas; he was in boxers and another t-shirt; this time it was light blue.
“Do you ever miss it?” Harry asked.
“Miss what?” he replied.
“Before - before the war really got underway. When things were… before Sirius died?”
“Of course,” Remus said, trying to keep the upsurge of emotion that occurred at the mention of Sirius’s name out of his voice. He sent up a silent mental prayer that Harry wasn’t trying to discuss Sirius’s death. It was answered.
“I do, but then I feel guilty for it,” Harry told him, “People were still in danger then. Half of them didn’t even know it, but they were. I was. You were. But - I was going to kill Voldemort, or die trying. And then… then I did. And Remus, it feels like nothing matters anymore. Everyone was so fearful of him and what he could do to them. My entire purpose in life was to kill him. Now he’s dead - ” Harry paused.
“And?” Remus asked, softly.
“And it seems like - there’s nothing that matters anymore, because he’s gone. I don’t… Why am I still here?” Harry’s eyes were downcast, and he picked at the duvet under his fingers. “I’ve served my purpose.”
“No,” Remus told him, “You still have another purpose. You may not know what it is, but it’s still there. Killing Voldemort wasn’t your purpose; it’s what everyone needed from you. It’s not fair. But you still have your own purpose to find.”
“My whole life has been Voldemort, though.”
“He’s gone now, Harry.” Remus reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand absentmindedly, not knowing how to comfort him. A look of panic crossed Harry’s features, but it was gone almost as soon as it’d come. Harry trailed his fingers down Remus’s palm, then picked himself up off the bed and brandished his wand. “I’m sleeping in here, okay?” he said, staring straight into Remus’s eyes for the first time since he’d moved in.
Remus’s mirrored his look, and tried to ignore the burning in his hand. “Okay,” he said.
***
Harry slept in Remus’s room every night for a month and a half. They talked of insignificant things during the day, Remus read, Harry cleaned and tried out new spells, Remus went out and got a job at a Muggle bookshop, Harry learned to cook. Snape dropped in to bring Remus his Wolfsbane, and the night of the full moon was the only one Harry’d been locked out of Remus’s room.
Harry and Remus hadn’t touched, not even accidentally. They were careful. Remus was careful.
“You should get out more,” Remus suggested to Harry as the boy bedded down on the floor a week after the full moon. “It’s not good to get cooped up in here; it’ll drive you mad.”
Harry crawled into his sleeping bag gracelessly, and snorted. “Where should I go?”
“Anywhere you want. You can Apparate,” Remus told him.
“There’s no where I want to go, right now.”
“Mmm.”
“Goodnight, Remus.” Remus didn’t reply. Hardly tired, he stared up at the ceiling for hours before finally passing out.
***
“Fuck! Remus, are you all right?!” Remus came to slowly, gradually processing the image of Harry hovering over him. He was suddenly aware that he wasn’t in his bed, but instead on the floor near the foot of the stairs. He groaned as he tried to sit up, head spinning. He tried hard not to retch. Harry cringed and moved nearer to him. “It’s three AM, Remus. Can you hear me? You were sleepwalking again; you must’ve stepped around me this time. From the look of it, you only tripped down the last couple steps and hit your head, I already checked for damages.” During the war, Harry’d been taught a few basic healing spells for use in emergencies, and a few different ones used to check for broken bones and other bodily damage. He hadn’t had cause to use them in months. Thankfully, he’d learned them well, and could see that Remus had probably lost a few brain cells, but would otherwise be okay. As long as Harry checked on him a few times during the night and he didn’t start vomiting, there’d be no need to take him to St. Mungo’s.
Harry bent down and made to pick Remus up, but suddenly Remus found his voice. “Just levitate me back to bed, please,” he told Harry, voice strained.
“Right,” said Harry, dropping his hands quickly and performing the necessary spell. He got Remus back up to bed, and fell asleep soon after getting back into his sleeping bag, having cast a spell on himself that’d cause him to awaken once an hour to check on Remus.
Remus lay awake for a while longer, trying to make the thoughts swirling around in his head go away; he didn’t need to think about how close Harry had come to carrying him up to bed.
***
Harry was extremely careful around Remus for the next couple of days, insisting on performing the simplest tasks for him, not wanting him to exert himself.
“I’m not that old, you know,” Remus told him at the end of the third day of being treated as an invalid. “I’m perfectly capable of doing everything by myself; all I did was fall a few steps.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, “I just - ”
“I can take care of myself.”
Later that night, Harry told Remus with an unreadable expression that he’d be sleeping in his own room again. Remus tried to ignore the feeling of being vaguely empty. There were things he shouldn’t think about.
***
Harry woke up in the middle of the night, cuddling closer to his blankets. He grabbed them and pulled them towards himself, but they were stuck on something. Gradually, Harry realized that he wasn’t rested against the wall, as he’d thought, but was instead rested against a rather warm body, whose arms snaked around his waist as he began to panic. He yelped, waking Remus, who took a few moments to process where he was and then scrambled away from Harry as fast as possible. He wheezed as Harry found the light. “Remus?!” he asked.
“I - sleepwalking.” Remus brushed his hair off his forehead, hugging himself and hopping from foot to foot. If it wasn’t enough that the floors of Grimmauld Place were bloody cold, the temperature went down at night, and without the comfort of magically warmed sheets, one was very cold. He and Harry had both tried casting various spells to keep the house warm at night, but apparently, the Blacks were sadistic to the extent that the house was immune to any and all warming spells. It wanted to be cold at night, and it was going to, no matter what. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
Harry just stared at him - before throwing off his covers, walking across the room, and yanking Remus halfway across it to the bed. The simple touch seemed to scar Remus’s skin, and he fought not to touch the spot. “Sit,” Harry ordered, in a tone Remus had never heard him use. Remus sat.
“You sleepwalked into my room. Into my bed,” Harry said.
Remus didn’t know what to say.
“Why?” Harry demanded, looking faintly angry. Why was he so angry?
“I don’t know why I sleepwalk where I do,” Remus said, blankly.
“Well…” Harry appeared to be struggling with himself.
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Apparently, this was not the right thing to say.
“Damn it, Remus! You were in my bed!” Harry shouted.
Remus had no idea what the boy was getting at. “What?” he asked.
Harry grabbed his own hair and held it back from his face, pacing. “What? What?! I sit here every fucking day by myself and try not to touch you, try not to think about touching you because it’d be so wrong - and then you sleepwalk into my room, into my bed, and what the fuck am I supposed to do, Remus? Merlin - I don’t - ” He took his hands out of his hair and advanced towards Remus, inches away from his face.
This couldn’t mean anything that a part of Remus who he was desperately trying to ignore was hoping it did. It really, really couldn’t. He was old enough to be Harry’s father and his best friend was his godfather and -
Harry closed the space between them and pressed his lips to Remus’s, frantically, shoving him backwards and getting on top of him. Remus flailed, panicked. This wasn’t - No, it couldn’t - And that was when Harry pulled back, looking horrified.
“I - Merlin,” Harry said.
Remus panted, staring at Harry. “It’s wrong,” Remus said.
“I know,” Harry breathed.
“We shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
Remus got up. He took in a full view of Harry: black messy hair, brilliant green eyes, boxers, that damn light blue t-shirt that’d been laundered twice without magic since the night Remus touched Harry’s hand, because doing provided another distraction for Harry. “Remus,” Harry said. And it all went to hell.
In one swift motion, Remus had grabbed Harry and slammed him against the wall. Harry gazed up at him, shuddering. “We’re fucked,” Remus said, before assaulting Harry’s lips with his own.
Remus’s mind exploded. Kissing Harry felt painfully good. It was everything. It was his future, their future; opinions, society, and the shame of it be damned. It needed to be. It couldn’t be stopped; they’d both die if this could never happen again. This was nothing like it’d been with Tonks or Ginny, nothing like it had been with anyone before.
Harry moaned into his mouth, opening to allow Remus better access. He was almost sure he was hallucinating as Remus caressed his tongue, and his knees gave out; Remus slid them frantically to the floor and sat between Harry’s legs, pressing himself up against Harry. He was hardly a teenager, but he was hard already, and he thought he might just explode if -
Harry was fighting him back now, and one of his hands came out of absolutely no where and yanked down the waistband of Remus’s boxers. Remus hissed as the fabric caught on his erection, and then nearly screamed as Harry set him free with another hand, still pushing the boxers down to his knees. Nothing mattered anymore except their need for this now.
Remus’s hands were on Harry’s arse and he kissed him even harder before abandoning the boy’s mouth and nipping down his neck, out of control. Harry groaned and rubbed himself through his boxers, but Remus swatted his hands away as he latched onto the junction of Harry’s neck, careful not to bite. He pulled the boxers away from Harry’s waist so they wouldn’t snag, and then he shoved them down and off, maneuvering so that he could shed his own completely.
Remus paused after he managed to get his boxers off, pulling away slightly. He took in the sight before him - Harry James Potter, hair messier than usual, blushing, his cock nearly straight up against him stomach. He wasn’t going to think about how wrong that was. Remus grasped his own cock, reaching for Harry’s.
“Remus… ahh!” Harry’s head hit the wall as Remus grasped him, lining up their cocks and stroking them together. He licked up Harry’s chest as he jerked them both, reaching one hand under Harry’s balls to brush his hole.
Harry went rigid, finally realizing the extent of the situation he was in. “Remus?!” he asked, sounding half terrified. Remus looked up, meeting fearful green eyes. Shit.
“You don’t - ” Remus began.
Harry breathed, all motions stilled. “I haven’t - I’ve never - I can’t, Remus,” Harry told him, glancing down at the floor. “I’m too… I’ve done some things before but not that and I can’t, Remus - I just - ”
Remus let go of them both, placing his hand under Harry’s chin and bringing him in for a kiss. “It’s all right,” he said. “We don’t have to.”
“I’m sorry, I - ”
“Don’t be.” Remus kissed him again, as softly as he could manage, and pushed back up against him, hesitantly. “Is it all right… if we do just this? Or do you want me to stop completely?” Merlin’s balls, Remus was hard, and he hoped Harry didn’t want to end this completely, or he’d be wanking himself into oblivion until he’d permanently destroyed his own ability to get it up.
Harry leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. “No, I still want this,” he said, breathlessly, “but let me - ” He grabbed them both, and Remus wrapped his hand over Harry’s, teaching him how to pump them in unison. Together, they worked up a steady rhythm, working them both good enough for now. Harry’s eyes were half-lidded and Remus tried to memorize the look on his face. Harry whimpered and Remus moaned, gripping their cocks tighter and forcing Harry to increase the speed, needing more friction. He attacked Harry’s throat, sucking so hard it was sure to leave a bruise, and Harry writhed beneath him, pumping their cocks at a frantic pace, his prick so incredibly hard that it fucking hurt.
“Remus, Remus!” Harry cried, fighting to hold on. Two more minutes, please, just two! Remus thought, precome leaking liberally all over their hands.
“I - Oh fuck, please, Remus! I need to - ”
“Fifteen seconds, fifteen seconds and we can come together,” Remus pleaded. He was so close, so very - yes, yes! Oh bloody hell -
“Remus!” Harry begged desperately.
All he needed was two more jerks… “Let go, Harry!” he growled.
“REMUS!” Harry keened, exploding along with him, all over their hands and Remus’s stomach. Remus darted in and kissed him as he helped Harry milk their cocks dry, moaning in satisfaction.
Things were silent for a moment as they slowly came back down to Earth, kissing slowly, delicately. At long last, Remus forced himself to pull back. Harry glanced at him, timidly, and blushed. “Erm, can we move a bit? I’m sort of getting a cramp here,” Harry said. He was wedged up against the wall in a rather awkward position.
“Where do you want to move?” Remus asked, glad Harry wasn’t flipping out.
“Can you stay in my bed tonight?” Harry asked, blushing an even deeper shade of red. Remus fought the urge to laugh, considering what they’d just done.
“I’m not one for one offs, but if you don’t want this, for whatever reason - ” Remus began.
“Of course I do!” Harry replied, eyes wide. “Are you kidding me?!”
“I just wanted to make sure, Harry,” Remus smiled, reaching for Harry’s hand. It didn’t matter if it was wrong; it was too bad. If it made them happy, then they’d done enough to deserve it. Harry took the offered hand, and Remus led him over to the bed. “D’you mind if I spell us clean?”
“That’d be appreciated, actually.”
Remus grabbed his wand off the dresser and did so. He rolled down the covers, getting into bed, and pulled Harry down with him. He went towards Harry for another kiss, and wrapped his arms around him as he did so.
“Mmm, this is nice,” Harry said, snuggling closer to Remus. “And if you have any doubts about this tomorrow, I’ll be using an Unforgivable more than once in my life.”
“I wouldn’t, don’t worry,” Remus assured him.
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t…”
“There is nothing you need to be sorry for,” Remus told him.
“Thank you, Remus,” Harry replied.
“You’re welcome,” Remus replied. Remus smiled to himself and reaching over, turned out the light.
For the first time since Sirius’s death, Remus J. Lupin’s sleepwalking problem vanished. Permanently.
FIN
7spells fic 1 of 7
Title: What's Right
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Remus
Prompt: 7. Sleepwalk
Warnings: Angst, Character death previous to story (neither of the characters in pairing)
Word Count: 4,646
What's Right
“I hate this damn house,” Harry announced for the fifth time that morning, depositing one of the couch cushions rather violently on the floor.
“As do I,” Remus sighed. “But if we don’t keep it, it’ll go to Tonks.” He gritted his teeth. “We both know that she can’t handle it, especially with the baby on the way.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Today had been assigned as cleaning day, since no one except for highly trained magic inspectors had been inside the house for almost two years, and there was quite a bit of dust to be done away with, among other things. The war with Voldemort was over, it had been for nearly half a year, and Remus’s relationship with Tonks had unexpectedly gone with it. Towards the end of the war when he’d still been working to keep the werewolves who weren’t personal friends of Greyback’s at bay, she’d been extremely lonely and paired up with Kingsley on her assignments. After the chaos of the final battle was over and Voldemort had been confirmed deceased, she’d sat Remus down and told him that though she was very sorry, she was still pregnant with Shacklebolt’s child. Remus had talked to her all of twice since. The first time she’d begged him to take the house since he was Sirius’s friend and she really couldn’t, even though the Ministry had deemed her entitled to it. The second time was to announce that that she was doing the paperwork so that it’d half belong to Harry, considering Harry was Sirius’s godson. Remus’d insisted that she just give Harry the entire bloody thing, but apparently she thought it’d be good for both men to have some company, since they’d both been rather reserved lately. Remus’d snorted at her owl, but sent back a message of consent all the same. Such things weren’t very important.
Harry sighed in response to Remus’s retort, but didn’t reply, proceeding instead to take the remaining two cushions off the couch. A moment later he cringed backwards in disgust. “There’s some… dead thing that nested in the couch, I think,” Harry said.
Remus sighed. Sometimes, he had no luck at all.
***
“You’re not a bad cook, you know,” Harry told Remus at dinner that night. “This stew’s really nice.”
“Hmm,” was all Remus replied with.
“Really, it’s quite good,” Harry ventured again.
“Mmm.”
“Pass the salt, please?”
Remus did it wordlessly, staring into his soup.
“Remus, what’s the matter?” Harry asked.
Remus’s head snapped back up. “Are you really going to ask me that?” he inquired, voice low. He stood up, shoving his stew aside. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, and slunk off in the direction of his new bedroom.
***
“You sound like Snape sometimes when you’re miserable, you know,” Harry said, walking into Remus’s bedroom an hour after supper, wanting to give the werewolf some time to himself.
Remus laughed dryly, closing his book and placing it next to him on the small table next to his bed. “I’m rather bitter, so I suppose I’m somewhat of a terrible house-mate. I’m sorry, Harry. Please forgive me if I’ve taken things out on you.”
“It’s… all right,” Harry replied, sitting himself down on the duvet at the foot of Remus’s bed. “But it doesn’t improve anyone’s mood. We’ve both been through it hell, you know. So I can understand that.”
“… I’m sorry, Harry.”
“There’s no need to be sorry,” Harry said, glancing down at his trainers, “But we’ve got to cheer up. Sirius and McGonagall and Dumbledore and Ron would’ve wanted it, you know.” Harry fought to keep his emotions in; he’d mourned for them all enough already. And he didn’t want to break down in front of Remus - in front of anyone, for that matter. He had his grief, and he suffered with it, but he wouldn’t - he couldn’t - cry any more. “And we can’t let… failed things ruin us either.” Harry was full aware of what had happened between Remus and Tonks, and his relationship with Ginny hadn’t worked out how he’d hoped after the war either. It had turned them into different people, and Ginny needed someone that was a lot more stable for her than Harry was. They weren’t meant to be.
Remus shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Do you sleepwalk?” Remus asked him, abruptly changing the subject.
“No,” Harry replied automatically, deciding to drop the subject, at least for now. “Why?”
“I do. Have ever since… Sirius passed. Dunno why, but the regular potion doesn’t work to keep me in my bed. So if you hear something clunking about in the night…”
***
“Remus. Pst, Remus! Reeeeeeeeeeemus.”
“Mph?”
“Remus, are you awake?” Harry tiptoed into the bedroom and stood over him. He tipped his head down, inches from Remus’s face. “Remus?”
“Yagh!” Remus shouted, jumping up and bumping his head against Harry’s.
“Ow, that hurt!” Harry cried, rubbing his head as Remus searched blindly in the dark for the knob that would turn the light on. He found it and flicked it, gazing up to find Harry standing in front of him, clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.
“God, Harry, you scared me! What are you doing up?” Remus asked.
“I’m eighteen. What would I be doing sleeping at this hour of the night?” Harry grinned.
“What time is it?” Remus asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Just past one in the morning.”
Remus sighed. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing in here then?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry stated simply, nervously threading his hands through his sleep-mused hair.
Remus fixed him with a questioning stare, “I thought you said you didn’t sleep at this hour anyway,” he stated.
Harry shrugged.
“Do you want to talk?” Remus asked, baffled as to why the boy would come into his room for no reason.
“No, I don’t want to talk,” Harry said.
Remus chuckled. “That doesn’t make much sense.”
Harry moved up the bed and turned off Remus’s light, bathing the two in darkness.
“Why did y-?” Remus asked.
“Can I stay in here tonight?” Harry cut him off.
Remus frowned. “Why?” he asked.
“Nevermind. I’m just going to stay on the floor,” Harry said. He muttered something and Remus heard the sound of pillows hitting the floor. The boy must have conjured himself a sleeping bag.
***
Remus jerked awake in the middle of the night, not having a clue as to what could have woke him. His breathing was labored and his legs were swung to the side of the bed, as if he he’d been trying to get off it. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he began to calm down - until he realized that his legs were actually resting on someone else’s. He flailed for the lamp again, getting his torso half off the bed before having it pushed back down, gently but firmly, by someone’s hand.
“Shhh, Remus, it’s okay,” Harry soothed.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” Remus blurted out, heart pounding.
There was a brief silence. “Umm…” Harry stalled, seeming a bit flustered at the question. “You sort of stepped on me. I guess you were about to get started sleepwalking, but I didn’t want you to fall down the stairs or something, so I got up and pushed you back into bed. And you’re okay and awake now, so I’ll just…” Harry rolled himself down onto the floor. “G’night, Remus.”
Remus pulled the covers up around his neck and turned over, trying not to think.
***
At eleven o’ clock the next evening Remus padded over to the bookshelf and replaced the book he’d been reading, some disturbing thing that had been written by Phineas Nigellus and attempted to explain why it was good for purebloods to breed within their closer extended family. He set off for the stairs and went up them into his room, gently shutting the door behind him. He was so tired. Grimmauld Place had already started to take its toll on him. He yawned as he yanked open an old wardrobe where he was currently storing all the clothing he owned, and pulled his bathrobe out of it. Throwing it onto the bed, he pulled his pajamas out from where he’d shoved them behind his pillow and got to work undressing.
***
Harry stepped quietly down the hallway, trying not to make any noise. He’d just gotten in from the Muggle pub out in town, where he’d gone just to talk; see what the locals were like. It was a good distraction, an excuse not to answer the latest owl Hermione had sent him, all but begging him to come to dinner at the Weasley’s, just once. She’d been incredibly worried about him lately, but he couldn’t go see her and the Weasleys; they reminded him to much of Ron, of the utter lack of Ron.
He noticed the light coming out from under Remus’s door as he approached it, and stopped for a moment just in front of it. He held his breath, listening to the sound of clothes dropping and fabric moving over skin. Harry shook his head. What was he doing? He was about to move forward when he heard Remus step towards the door.
***
Remus had intended on having a relaxing cuppa mixed with a Dreamless Sleep Draught before finally getting to bed, but tea strayed from his mind as he opened the old wooden door to see Harry staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Er,” Harry said.
“Would you like some tea?” Remus asked, not even bothering to wonder why Harry was standing in his doorway; things that made no sense had become a rather regular occurrence in his house.
“No, thanks, I’m going to… be off to bed.” Harry nodded vigorously and all but ran down the hall to his room, leaving Remus standing in his doorway.
Remus blinked, sighed, and shuffled off downstairs for his tea.
***
Harry’s heart pounded as he locked his door behind him, throwing himself onto the bed. What had just happened?
Harry’d been so confused lately. In the months following the final fall of Voldemort, Harry had been proclaimed a hero, once again, and given an Order of Merlin, First Class, along with several other major honors. He’d been interviewed and photographed and goggled at like an animal in the zoo, and he’d hated it. Now that things had died down a bit… he missed the distraction it provided. Being too busy to think about the future was a very easy way of avoiding it. He had no idea what he was doing anymore, or why he did the things he did. In the quiet of Grimmauld Place, he was forced to wonder why, and he hated it.
He had no idea what he was going to do with his life, either. He couldn’t deal with thinking about that, most of the time. Whenever he did, he realized that his job, the one he’d always had, to defeat Voldemort, had been completed. What more was left for him? His one purpose had been fulfilled, hadn’t it? It didn’t matter that it was a purpose that others had given him, wasn’t that what everyone had considered him good for?
Harry wished he had an excuse not to think about it. Any excuse, any at all. He just needed something, something… soon. He flipped onto his stomach and shoved his face in his pillow.
***
Three nights later, Harry snuck into Remus’s room.
“Remus, are you awake?” he asked, a note of something in his voice.
Thanks to a recent bout of insomnia, Remus was, though he really didn’t want to ponder why Harry was coming to him again. “Yes, what it is, Harry?” he asked, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Harry switched on the light, and Remus sat up, shielding his eyes. “I think I need to talk,” Harry said. Remus paused, nodded, and motioned for Harry to sit on the end on the bed, pushing himself upright.
“What’s the matter?” Remus asked, staring at Harry, trying not to note the fact that Harry had changed pajamas; he was in boxers and another t-shirt; this time it was light blue.
“Do you ever miss it?” Harry asked.
“Miss what?” he replied.
“Before - before the war really got underway. When things were… before Sirius died?”
“Of course,” Remus said, trying to keep the upsurge of emotion that occurred at the mention of Sirius’s name out of his voice. He sent up a silent mental prayer that Harry wasn’t trying to discuss Sirius’s death. It was answered.
“I do, but then I feel guilty for it,” Harry told him, “People were still in danger then. Half of them didn’t even know it, but they were. I was. You were. But - I was going to kill Voldemort, or die trying. And then… then I did. And Remus, it feels like nothing matters anymore. Everyone was so fearful of him and what he could do to them. My entire purpose in life was to kill him. Now he’s dead - ” Harry paused.
“And?” Remus asked, softly.
“And it seems like - there’s nothing that matters anymore, because he’s gone. I don’t… Why am I still here?” Harry’s eyes were downcast, and he picked at the duvet under his fingers. “I’ve served my purpose.”
“No,” Remus told him, “You still have another purpose. You may not know what it is, but it’s still there. Killing Voldemort wasn’t your purpose; it’s what everyone needed from you. It’s not fair. But you still have your own purpose to find.”
“My whole life has been Voldemort, though.”
“He’s gone now, Harry.” Remus reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand absentmindedly, not knowing how to comfort him. A look of panic crossed Harry’s features, but it was gone almost as soon as it’d come. Harry trailed his fingers down Remus’s palm, then picked himself up off the bed and brandished his wand. “I’m sleeping in here, okay?” he said, staring straight into Remus’s eyes for the first time since he’d moved in.
Remus’s mirrored his look, and tried to ignore the burning in his hand. “Okay,” he said.
***
Harry slept in Remus’s room every night for a month and a half. They talked of insignificant things during the day, Remus read, Harry cleaned and tried out new spells, Remus went out and got a job at a Muggle bookshop, Harry learned to cook. Snape dropped in to bring Remus his Wolfsbane, and the night of the full moon was the only one Harry’d been locked out of Remus’s room.
Harry and Remus hadn’t touched, not even accidentally. They were careful. Remus was careful.
“You should get out more,” Remus suggested to Harry as the boy bedded down on the floor a week after the full moon. “It’s not good to get cooped up in here; it’ll drive you mad.”
Harry crawled into his sleeping bag gracelessly, and snorted. “Where should I go?”
“Anywhere you want. You can Apparate,” Remus told him.
“There’s no where I want to go, right now.”
“Mmm.”
“Goodnight, Remus.” Remus didn’t reply. Hardly tired, he stared up at the ceiling for hours before finally passing out.
***
“Fuck! Remus, are you all right?!” Remus came to slowly, gradually processing the image of Harry hovering over him. He was suddenly aware that he wasn’t in his bed, but instead on the floor near the foot of the stairs. He groaned as he tried to sit up, head spinning. He tried hard not to retch. Harry cringed and moved nearer to him. “It’s three AM, Remus. Can you hear me? You were sleepwalking again; you must’ve stepped around me this time. From the look of it, you only tripped down the last couple steps and hit your head, I already checked for damages.” During the war, Harry’d been taught a few basic healing spells for use in emergencies, and a few different ones used to check for broken bones and other bodily damage. He hadn’t had cause to use them in months. Thankfully, he’d learned them well, and could see that Remus had probably lost a few brain cells, but would otherwise be okay. As long as Harry checked on him a few times during the night and he didn’t start vomiting, there’d be no need to take him to St. Mungo’s.
Harry bent down and made to pick Remus up, but suddenly Remus found his voice. “Just levitate me back to bed, please,” he told Harry, voice strained.
“Right,” said Harry, dropping his hands quickly and performing the necessary spell. He got Remus back up to bed, and fell asleep soon after getting back into his sleeping bag, having cast a spell on himself that’d cause him to awaken once an hour to check on Remus.
Remus lay awake for a while longer, trying to make the thoughts swirling around in his head go away; he didn’t need to think about how close Harry had come to carrying him up to bed.
***
Harry was extremely careful around Remus for the next couple of days, insisting on performing the simplest tasks for him, not wanting him to exert himself.
“I’m not that old, you know,” Remus told him at the end of the third day of being treated as an invalid. “I’m perfectly capable of doing everything by myself; all I did was fall a few steps.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, “I just - ”
“I can take care of myself.”
Later that night, Harry told Remus with an unreadable expression that he’d be sleeping in his own room again. Remus tried to ignore the feeling of being vaguely empty. There were things he shouldn’t think about.
***
Harry woke up in the middle of the night, cuddling closer to his blankets. He grabbed them and pulled them towards himself, but they were stuck on something. Gradually, Harry realized that he wasn’t rested against the wall, as he’d thought, but was instead rested against a rather warm body, whose arms snaked around his waist as he began to panic. He yelped, waking Remus, who took a few moments to process where he was and then scrambled away from Harry as fast as possible. He wheezed as Harry found the light. “Remus?!” he asked.
“I - sleepwalking.” Remus brushed his hair off his forehead, hugging himself and hopping from foot to foot. If it wasn’t enough that the floors of Grimmauld Place were bloody cold, the temperature went down at night, and without the comfort of magically warmed sheets, one was very cold. He and Harry had both tried casting various spells to keep the house warm at night, but apparently, the Blacks were sadistic to the extent that the house was immune to any and all warming spells. It wanted to be cold at night, and it was going to, no matter what. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
Harry just stared at him - before throwing off his covers, walking across the room, and yanking Remus halfway across it to the bed. The simple touch seemed to scar Remus’s skin, and he fought not to touch the spot. “Sit,” Harry ordered, in a tone Remus had never heard him use. Remus sat.
“You sleepwalked into my room. Into my bed,” Harry said.
Remus didn’t know what to say.
“Why?” Harry demanded, looking faintly angry. Why was he so angry?
“I don’t know why I sleepwalk where I do,” Remus said, blankly.
“Well…” Harry appeared to be struggling with himself.
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Apparently, this was not the right thing to say.
“Damn it, Remus! You were in my bed!” Harry shouted.
Remus had no idea what the boy was getting at. “What?” he asked.
Harry grabbed his own hair and held it back from his face, pacing. “What? What?! I sit here every fucking day by myself and try not to touch you, try not to think about touching you because it’d be so wrong - and then you sleepwalk into my room, into my bed, and what the fuck am I supposed to do, Remus? Merlin - I don’t - ” He took his hands out of his hair and advanced towards Remus, inches away from his face.
This couldn’t mean anything that a part of Remus who he was desperately trying to ignore was hoping it did. It really, really couldn’t. He was old enough to be Harry’s father and his best friend was his godfather and -
Harry closed the space between them and pressed his lips to Remus’s, frantically, shoving him backwards and getting on top of him. Remus flailed, panicked. This wasn’t - No, it couldn’t - And that was when Harry pulled back, looking horrified.
“I - Merlin,” Harry said.
Remus panted, staring at Harry. “It’s wrong,” Remus said.
“I know,” Harry breathed.
“We shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
Remus got up. He took in a full view of Harry: black messy hair, brilliant green eyes, boxers, that damn light blue t-shirt that’d been laundered twice without magic since the night Remus touched Harry’s hand, because doing provided another distraction for Harry. “Remus,” Harry said. And it all went to hell.
In one swift motion, Remus had grabbed Harry and slammed him against the wall. Harry gazed up at him, shuddering. “We’re fucked,” Remus said, before assaulting Harry’s lips with his own.
Remus’s mind exploded. Kissing Harry felt painfully good. It was everything. It was his future, their future; opinions, society, and the shame of it be damned. It needed to be. It couldn’t be stopped; they’d both die if this could never happen again. This was nothing like it’d been with Tonks or Ginny, nothing like it had been with anyone before.
Harry moaned into his mouth, opening to allow Remus better access. He was almost sure he was hallucinating as Remus caressed his tongue, and his knees gave out; Remus slid them frantically to the floor and sat between Harry’s legs, pressing himself up against Harry. He was hardly a teenager, but he was hard already, and he thought he might just explode if -
Harry was fighting him back now, and one of his hands came out of absolutely no where and yanked down the waistband of Remus’s boxers. Remus hissed as the fabric caught on his erection, and then nearly screamed as Harry set him free with another hand, still pushing the boxers down to his knees. Nothing mattered anymore except their need for this now.
Remus’s hands were on Harry’s arse and he kissed him even harder before abandoning the boy’s mouth and nipping down his neck, out of control. Harry groaned and rubbed himself through his boxers, but Remus swatted his hands away as he latched onto the junction of Harry’s neck, careful not to bite. He pulled the boxers away from Harry’s waist so they wouldn’t snag, and then he shoved them down and off, maneuvering so that he could shed his own completely.
Remus paused after he managed to get his boxers off, pulling away slightly. He took in the sight before him - Harry James Potter, hair messier than usual, blushing, his cock nearly straight up against him stomach. He wasn’t going to think about how wrong that was. Remus grasped his own cock, reaching for Harry’s.
“Remus… ahh!” Harry’s head hit the wall as Remus grasped him, lining up their cocks and stroking them together. He licked up Harry’s chest as he jerked them both, reaching one hand under Harry’s balls to brush his hole.
Harry went rigid, finally realizing the extent of the situation he was in. “Remus?!” he asked, sounding half terrified. Remus looked up, meeting fearful green eyes. Shit.
“You don’t - ” Remus began.
Harry breathed, all motions stilled. “I haven’t - I’ve never - I can’t, Remus,” Harry told him, glancing down at the floor. “I’m too… I’ve done some things before but not that and I can’t, Remus - I just - ”
Remus let go of them both, placing his hand under Harry’s chin and bringing him in for a kiss. “It’s all right,” he said. “We don’t have to.”
“I’m sorry, I - ”
“Don’t be.” Remus kissed him again, as softly as he could manage, and pushed back up against him, hesitantly. “Is it all right… if we do just this? Or do you want me to stop completely?” Merlin’s balls, Remus was hard, and he hoped Harry didn’t want to end this completely, or he’d be wanking himself into oblivion until he’d permanently destroyed his own ability to get it up.
Harry leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. “No, I still want this,” he said, breathlessly, “but let me - ” He grabbed them both, and Remus wrapped his hand over Harry’s, teaching him how to pump them in unison. Together, they worked up a steady rhythm, working them both good enough for now. Harry’s eyes were half-lidded and Remus tried to memorize the look on his face. Harry whimpered and Remus moaned, gripping their cocks tighter and forcing Harry to increase the speed, needing more friction. He attacked Harry’s throat, sucking so hard it was sure to leave a bruise, and Harry writhed beneath him, pumping their cocks at a frantic pace, his prick so incredibly hard that it fucking hurt.
“Remus, Remus!” Harry cried, fighting to hold on. Two more minutes, please, just two! Remus thought, precome leaking liberally all over their hands.
“I - Oh fuck, please, Remus! I need to - ”
“Fifteen seconds, fifteen seconds and we can come together,” Remus pleaded. He was so close, so very - yes, yes! Oh bloody hell -
“Remus!” Harry begged desperately.
All he needed was two more jerks… “Let go, Harry!” he growled.
“REMUS!” Harry keened, exploding along with him, all over their hands and Remus’s stomach. Remus darted in and kissed him as he helped Harry milk their cocks dry, moaning in satisfaction.
Things were silent for a moment as they slowly came back down to Earth, kissing slowly, delicately. At long last, Remus forced himself to pull back. Harry glanced at him, timidly, and blushed. “Erm, can we move a bit? I’m sort of getting a cramp here,” Harry said. He was wedged up against the wall in a rather awkward position.
“Where do you want to move?” Remus asked, glad Harry wasn’t flipping out.
“Can you stay in my bed tonight?” Harry asked, blushing an even deeper shade of red. Remus fought the urge to laugh, considering what they’d just done.
“I’m not one for one offs, but if you don’t want this, for whatever reason - ” Remus began.
“Of course I do!” Harry replied, eyes wide. “Are you kidding me?!”
“I just wanted to make sure, Harry,” Remus smiled, reaching for Harry’s hand. It didn’t matter if it was wrong; it was too bad. If it made them happy, then they’d done enough to deserve it. Harry took the offered hand, and Remus led him over to the bed. “D’you mind if I spell us clean?”
“That’d be appreciated, actually.”
Remus grabbed his wand off the dresser and did so. He rolled down the covers, getting into bed, and pulled Harry down with him. He went towards Harry for another kiss, and wrapped his arms around him as he did so.
“Mmm, this is nice,” Harry said, snuggling closer to Remus. “And if you have any doubts about this tomorrow, I’ll be using an Unforgivable more than once in my life.”
“I wouldn’t, don’t worry,” Remus assured him.
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t…”
“There is nothing you need to be sorry for,” Remus told him.
“Thank you, Remus,” Harry replied.
“You’re welcome,” Remus replied. Remus smiled to himself and reaching over, turned out the light.
For the first time since Sirius’s death, Remus J. Lupin’s sleepwalking problem vanished. Permanently.
FIN
7spells fic 1 of 7