Preface
Love is a GamblePosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/7866355.
Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Underage
Fandom:
Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
Relationship:
Remus Lupin/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Character:
Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black
Additional Tags:
First Time, Drama
Collections:
Ink Stained Fingers
Stats:
Published: 2003-06-17 Words: 14385
Love is a Gamble
by Wishful Dreamer [archived by ISF_Archivist]
Summary
Remus/Harry and mention of Severus/Sirius. Remus Lupin overhears someone confess his love for him,
and puts himself through the wringer to find out who it is. On the way,
he deals with some very puzzling behavior by those around him.
Notes
This story was originally archived at Ink Stained Fingers, which was created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact me using the e-mail address at the Ink Stained Fingers collection profile.
Author's notes: This fic is part of the 'Mortal Moon' Harry/Remus Fuh-Q-Fest
http/groups./group/mortalmoonfest/. Challenge: #117 and #114.
Love is a Gamble
Love is a Gamble
He had to stop again to catch his breath.
The steep staircase leading to the tower seemed to have a thousand steps. The muscles of his legs burned, and the dull throbbing in his temples was aggravated by every movement.
He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, shutting them as he struggled with sheer exhaustion.
He should have stayed in bed, he knew, but sleep had not come, and his chambers had become unbearably close.
He needed air.
He needed to be alone, only not alone in his chambers, which even after two years seemed stark and unwelcoming.
He needed to clear his head, to rid himself of the ugly thoughts that refused to be suppressed on nights like this.
He'd had enough of the nightmares. Enough that two weeks earlier he had crawled to Snape, begging for a Sleeping Potion. Snape had sent him off with three vials and a warning not to use the highly addictive draught more than two nights in a row.
Advice that he had not followed.
He had taken the last of it on the final night he would spend in his own bed before the full moon sent him to his dungeon cage, knowing that it would be his last chance for restful sleep. How he wished he had kept enough for the night after! His transformation left him weak, exhausted, and, as an added agony, unable to close his eyes without reliving some of the most painful moments of the past three years.
He couldn't ask for more. Snape would only lecture him about potions abuse. Snape refrained from using the draught himself, Remus knew, despite the fact that nightmares haunted him too.
Fresh air would help tonight, he thought, or maybe prayed, as he climbed the last flight and stepped into the circular room.
The wind howled, whipping his robes, threatening to pull his cape from his shoulders. He wrapped it more tightly around himself, shivering.
The tower was in ruins. It was one of the last places in the school that had not yet been reconstructed, as it had never served any practical purpose and was a low priority. The wind rushed through the shattered windows and the cracks in the walls, wailing in its fury.
He went to one of the windows, standing unprotected from the elements, looking out into the night. There was no moon, no stars; too many clouds stretched across the sky. There hadn't been a storm like this in a long time.
He was chilled to the bone, so numb from the cold that the stone wall he leaned against seemed to offer warmth. He was beyond shivering now. Frozen in place.
He didn't know how long he stood there, but sometime in the night he was roused from his stupor by a dim light, shining up at him from one of the seventh floor windows below. Another creature besides himself was awake at this ungodly hour.
Craning his neck slightly, he could see a shadow moving across the floor as someone appeared to be pacing back and forth inside the room.
"... torture me with these images..."
Remus leapt back from the window, startled, as the wind threw the words at him, carrying the sound with startling clarity.
"... I know I can never have..."
The voice was broken, twisted, distorted by the wind; yet the words reached him as though the speaker were standing in the tower with him.
"... come here when I know..."
It was as if a spell had been cast, forcing him to listen despite his rational sensibilities telling him that he was eavesdropping on something profoundly private.
"... only images..."
"... I love him, don't you see?..."
It was the emotion in the words that distressed him. The pleading voice kept him captive.
"... only give me images..."
"... never enough..."
"... keeping... secret..."
The wind grew stronger, breaking up the words. He leaned forward, clutching at the window sill.
"... what... would say... never approve..."
"... all anyone will see... foolish..."
"... in love with a werewolf..."
Remus stared in shock at the shadow on the floor, which had stopped its incessant pacing.
He had heard wrong.
Either that or it was one of fate's cruel jokes.
The light in the window flickered and went out, as if a torch had been snuffed. He was left staring into the darkness.
The wind roared through the tower with new ferocity, bringing with it the first heavy droplets of rain.
The cold wetness on his face broke the spell. He turned on his heel and started down the stairs, almost losing his footing on the uneven steps in his haste.
At last he reached the seventh floor corridor.
Silent.
Empty.
He took one of the torches from the wall.
Which door?
He tried one, then the next, but each led to empty rooms. It had to be one of these doors, and only one remained. He threw it open.
Empty.
He leaned against the doorframe, breathing hard.
Of course it's empty, a voice inside said scornfully. In love with a werewolf? You were dreaming, old man. Frozen on the tower floor. Dreaming.
He turned away, but just before the door shut, something inside the room caught the light of the torch.
Pushing the door open again, holding the torch high, he stepped inside.
In the corner, partially covered by a shroud, stood a tall, ornate mirror.
He blinked, not believing his eyes.
No, it was real. The Mirror of Erised stood before him.
He knew it well, of course. Had helped Dumbledore move it on several occasions. He had believed it was no longer at the school.
He knew its seductive power. It showed the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart. Men had been driven insane, not knowing whether what they saw was attainable. Some, not caring if it was, accepted the images the Mirror offered and wasted away in front of it.
Is that what he had heard? Someone who came to this room to look into this cursed mirror, to look upon his deepest desire, not caring that it was a lie, an illusion?
Remus had looked into the Mirror. What man could resist? He knew what it would show him, and for that reason he did not look upon it now.
Acceptance.
Warmth.
Love.
It was enough that they haunted him inside his mind. To see them again, held just out of reach on the other side of the glass, would drive him mad.
Someone had been there, in that room, in front of that mirror. The dust on the floor had been disturbed. Someone had paced up and down the room, had looked into the glass... and confessed his love.
Remus stepped back, almost tripping on the folds on the shroud.
He covered the Mirror as best he could, averting his face, refusing to give in to the temptation, before escaping from the room.
He spent the rest of the night in his chambers, sleepless and unable to think of anything but the words he had overheard.
How could he be anything less than shocked? Everyone at the school knew what he was. He had never expected to find romantic love while teaching at Hogwarts, and many days he found even simple friendliness lacking. His position as a professor may be secure now, but nothing he could ever do would make the suspicions and prejudice disappear. He saw the furtive looks, from staff and students alike. He had learned to hide his hurt.
Now everything was turned upside down.
Because someone at the school was in love with him.
Knew what he was, and still loved him.
Was in pain because of the secret he had to keep.
Couldn't come to him and tell him. Remus needed only a moment to compile a long list of reasons why. At the top, the terror of facing the hatred that would be directed at anyone who claimed to love a dark creature. In the year following the war that kind of prejudice had grown, not lessened. Anything dark was feared and hated. Harboring affections for such, was met with scorn and hostility.
How could anyone be asked to make such a sacrifice?
That was the reason he had given up on finding love. There was no love to be found, he had thought, at least not at a price he was willing to let his partner pay.
Then why did he pace the floor, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he felt it might break? Why, out of all the questions that ran though his mind, did only one seem to matter?
Morning came, bringing no answers. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, he made his way down to the Great Hall and collapsed into the chair on Dumbledore's right.
He responded automatically to greetings, and filled his plate without seeing the food in front of him. When Snape handed him a steaming goblet, he downed the potion without cringing at the bitter taste.
He had promised himself that he would not look. He focused his eyes on the faces of the students, on the table in front of him, on the enchanted ceiling. Anything to avoid looking at the men seated at the staff table.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry caught his gaze, and smiled. Always such sadness in his eyes. Even when he smiled he never looked happy.
Remus sighed. All around them people were basking in the happiness that the end of the war had brought to most in the Wizarding World. Only they, the ones in the inner circle, the ones who had fought -- and survived -- the final battle, were trapped in the past. Happiness didn't come easy.
Breakfast ended. He knew what he had to do.
He followed Dumbledore out of the Hall.
Followed him nearly to the staffroom before his will failed him.
Guilt washed over him, the knowledge that his intentions were selfish taunting him, but he did his best to ignore the feeling, pushing it aside.
Returning to his chambers, he collapsed on his bed. He didn't have classes that day. He could catch up on desperately needed sleep.
His guilt only increased as he gave in, allowing himself to imagine arms holding him, fingers caressing his skin. But whose face would his phantom lover wear? He tumbled into blackness before the image formed, finally surrendering to his exhaustion.
He awoke to the sound of pounding at his door.
"Come in," he called, pointing his wand and unlocking the door.
"I was about the break the door down," Sirius told him, crossing the room and looking down at him.
Remus rolled over on the bed, trying to disentangle himself from the covers.
"Sorry, fell asleep."
"Are you alright?" Sirius asked worriedly. "You didn't look well at breakfast. You missed lunch."
"Fine," Remus lied.
In truth, his head was pounding and his skin felt clammy. He had probably caught one hell of a cold up in the tower the night before.
"Well, alright," Sirius said, not sounding convinced. "I just wanted to make sure you would be down for dinner. You have to eat."
Remus nodded. He had finally managed to free himself from the tangled bed sheets.
Sirius left, casting one last suspicious look in his direction before closing the door.
Remus lay still for a few minutes, before forcing himself to get up. Splashing cold water on his face seemed to relieve some of the pressure behind his eyes.
He got to the Great Hall, and this time looked eagerly around. He was determined. There was no turning back now that he had chosen this path. Everyone was present, and that meant the person he had overheard was in the room with him at that very moment. The knowledge made his heart speed up.
He knew that it was as likely to be a student as a member of staff, but something in him rebelled at the thought of looking toward his young students. It had to be someone on staff. Very few of his students knew him well enough to develop such strong feeling for him.
He didn't have a chance to study the faces around him closely before Sirius sat down next to him, intent on telling him everything he had missed while in seclusion. Remus forced himself to pay attention, and his chance was lost.
He managed to get through the rest of the day, and finally, at nightfall, took up his watch. He stared at the Mirror, which stood, covered, at the opposite side of the room. He waited.
He awoke in the morning, lying on the hard floor, shivering from the cold. He sprang up, ignoring his protesting muscles, and looked around wildly.
There was no evidence that anyone had come to the room that night, other than himself.
Sighing in frustration, he left the room.
It was a long day. He taught three classes, and his headache was back full force by the time he dismissed the last one. He excused himself from dinner, something he could get away with so soon after the full moon. Only Sirius gave him a scrutinizing glance.
"You're not sick, are you?" he asked.
"No," Remus replied, trying to smile reassuringly, "just a little tired."
"Get some rest then," Sirius said, frowning. He paused, massaging his temples with his fingers, as though he too had a headache. "We need to talk later."
Night came, and he was once again at his post, hidden in a shadowy corner, his eyes never straying from the door. He would stay awake this time.
He did. The gray morning found him still sitting on the floor, his back and legs stiff and sore from lack of movement.
He had seen no one.
He went to his chambers to wash up, and lay down on the bed, intending only to get warm again before going to breakfast.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy.
The shaking stopped. Someone lifted his head, pushed a glass to his lips, and forced him to drink. The bitter liquid almost made him gag. His head was released, and he buried his face deeper in the pillow. He lay still for a few moments.
Someone was in his room, he could feel a presence. He raised his head and looked around.
"Severus?" he asked in surprise when his eyes focused on the man standing by the window. "What -- "
"You weren't at breakfast. Albus asked me to check on you," Snape said.
Remus rubbed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. He noticed suddenly that his headache was gone.
"Where's Sirius?" he asked, confused.
"Ministry conference," Snape told him. "Which you would know about, had you bothered to show up for the staff meeting."
Remus groaned. He had forgotten.
Snape smirked, and strode across the room to the door.
"You belong in the hospital wing, Lupin," he said. "I trust you can get there on your own power?"
"I'm fine," Remus protested, pulling himself into a sitting position.
Snape sniffed contemptuously, and left the room.
For the first time, Remus noticed the tray on his bedside table.
His breakfast.
He looked closer.
Not just breakfast. The tray contained some of his favorite foods.
He shook his head in disbelief. Snape had brought him breakfast. Snape paid attention to what he liked to eat.
He picked up a roll and chewed slowly, his mind whirling, trying to wrap itself around the information.
Snape.
It couldn't be Snape. The voice he had heard had sounded nothing like him.
But did he really know what the man sounded like when the impassive mask was dropped? Remus had seen him angry, he had seen him in pain, but had he ever seen him --
In love?
He shook his head again, stopping the thought. It simply wasn't smart to jump to conclusions like this. He needed evidence. He needed something concrete.
He was still convinced that the Mirror was the answer. He would catch the person in the act, confront him, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the school. He would get to the truth.
And if it was true, he would --
He didn't know.
He would face that question when he must.
Remus finished the food, and left his chambers.
He was aching to begin his search that very minute, by speaking to each suspect in turn. He wanted to have some idea, at least, whom it could be.
Common sense, however, held him back.
Whomever it was clearly wasn't comfortable with Remus' werewolf status. Hadn't the voice said as much? It hadn't said 'in love with Remus Lupin', it had said 'in love with a werewolf'. Whomever it was, clearly he was struggling to control his feelings, to keep them from showing. Outwardly, he could be cold, unfriendly even, and if that was the case, how could Remus know what lay beneath the surface?
He had ruled out Sirius based on this theory. Sirius was the one person who would have no qualms about loving him, who would come to him and tell him if such feelings had developed. Sirius was the one person who would not think twice about how Remus' curse would effect their relationship. He knew the nature of Sirius' love for him. There was simply no room for deception or concealed desires in their friendship.
He wandered around the castle, not knowing what to do with himself while he waited for the night.
At dinner, Sirius had not returned, a visiting Ministry official had taken the seat on Dumbledore's left, and Remus found himself seated next to Snape, who sat down in Sirius' chair.
He couldn't help himself, his eyes were drawn to the man.
Snape appeared to be in a foul mood. He scowled when he caught Remus staring at him.
"You didn't take my advice, I see," he rebuked. "You look worse than you did this morning."
"Thanks," Remus replied sarcastically, averting his eyes and forcing himself to focus on his plate for the remainder of the meal.
Why was Snape so determined to get him to see Pomfrey?
As he was getting up, he couldn't help seeing Snape out of the corner of his eye, startled to realize that Snape was staring at him. And Snape looked guilty.
Snape? Guilty?
Impossible! Snape never looked guilty. It wasn't part of his repertoire.
And yet there it was.
He dozed off in his armchair in front of a fire, waking past midnight. He rushed up to the seventh floor, furious with himself, his heart hammering.
The room was silent, and empty as always, the Mirror undisturbed.
He sat down, bracing himself for another long night.
He missed breakfast again, having stumbled into his chambers in the early dawn hours, cold and exhausted. Sirius caught him coming out of his room.
"Where were you last night?" he demanded. "I came to find you, I thought we could talk. It wasn't that late."
Remus couldn't think of an answer
"I waited for you. I fell asleep on your bed," Sirius continued, frowning at him. "You were out all night."
Remus stayed silent. His mind whirled, but no plausible excuse came to him.
"You're not seeing anyone?" Sirius asked, still frowning. "Are you?"
"No," Remus said decisively. At least this was a question he could answer. "If I was, you would be the first to know."
Sirius flinched.
Remus stared at him in dismay. What had that meant?
"You said earlier that you needed to talk to me?" he said, trying to gain control of the situation.
"Really?" Sirius asked, laughing nervously. "I don't recall."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "You did."
Sirius shrugged. "Must not have been too important then. Probably something to do with the conference."
"How was the conference?"
Sirius launched into a long, detailed description, looking, it seemed to Remus, quite relieved at the change of subject.
It couldn't be Sirius, he reminded himself.
Sirius wouldn't have held back, wouldn't have hidden his feelings.
Unless he didn't know his friend as well as he thought he did.
Come to think of it, Sirius had been acting strange lately. Inquiring after his health more than usual. Giving him those long, pensive looks. And he had said he wanted to talk to Remus about something, Remus was sure of that.
He shook his head. These were crazy thoughts. There was only one way to find out the truth. Sooner or later, if he just waited long enough, he would find out. Patience, that was all he needed.
It was another long day. He taught one class in the morning, and two in the afternoon. He still wasn't feeling well. Maybe he would take Snape's advice and see Pomfrey after his last class.
"Professor, I just don't understand any of this!" Neville wailed, dropping his books onto Remus' desk and falling into a chair dejectedly.
"Calm down, Neville," Remus soothed. "I didn't expect you to understand everything after one lesson. We will be spending several weeks on this subject. You have plenty of time."
"I'll only get further behind," Neville said, sighing unhappily.
"I'll help you get through the material," Remus told him. "We can meet after class on -- " he consulted his schedule, "Thursday. How's that?"
Neville brightened up.
"That would be great!" he exclaimed, jumping up.
Remus watched him scurry out of the classroom.
Neville.
It made sense. Neville, who had such a hard time with almost all of his subjects, but who made such a strong effort to do well in Defense. Who would be terrified by the very thought of facing the kind of contempt that would be aimed at anyone involved with Remus. Who might, quite possibly, be terrified by Remus himself.
A student.
The very thing Remus hoped against.
He squelched the thought. Likely he was only leaping to conclusions again. By now, almost everyone was a suspect. He saw suspicious behavior where there was none.
That night he was back on the seventh floor, holding his cape tightly around himself against the biting cold. He could barely stand the wait anymore. If another night passed with no results, he would --
He would go to Trelawney if he had to, he thought, laughing hoarsely at the thought.
He would spike the pumpkin juice with veritaserum, and --
"Remus!"
Someone was shaking him hard.
"Remus! Wake up!"
He opened one eye with effort. Someone was kneeling beside him. He struggled to focus as two faces floated in front of him, blurry and pale in the semi-darkness.
"We have to get him to the infirmary," the same voice said.
"Here, cover him with this first," another voice urged.
Floating. He was floating. Intermittently he saw lights streak by.
He was deposited on a bed, coming down with enough of a jolt to startle him into consciousness.
He opened his eyes.
Sirius and Snape were peering down at him. On the other side of the bed, Madam Pomfrey was clucking disapprovingly and shaking her head, pulling out bottle after bottle from a cabinet.
He tried to lift his arm, and found that he could not. Looking down he found that he was tightly wrapped in Snape's heavy black cloak.
"Remus?" Sirius whispered, leaning close.
Before Remus could begin to answer, Sirius' face began to dissolve in front of him. The last thing he heard was the voice of Madam Pomfrey.
"Go on, go on, out with you. I will tell you when he wakes."
Then he heard no more for a long time.
When consciousness returned and he opened his eyes, he found Sirius watching him from a chair next to his bed.
"Remus?" Sirius bent over him, a worried expression on his face. "Should I call Pomfrey?"
"No," Remus said, his voice coming out hoarse and barely above a whisper.
"Here," Sirius brought a glass of water to his lips. "Drink."
The water helped. He was fully awake now, aware that his head no longer hurt, and that he was comfortably warm under several thick blankets.
Madam Pomfrey bustled in, ushering Sirius out of the room. Remus resigned himself to allowing her to fuss over him.
An hour later he was sitting up, tearing hungrily into the food Sirius had brought him.
Sirius was strangely silent, watching him.
He couldn't help thinking, Sirius had been in the room. Sirius had found him, and that meant that Sirius had come to the room late in the night.
And Snape. Snape had been there too. Maybe he had called Sirius.
"What were you doing, Remus?" Sirius finally said, in a low, cautious voice.
Remus looked up at his friend, unable to form an answer.
"Is that what you've been doing these last few nights?" Sirius continued. "Don't you know how dangerous that mirror is? Didn't you think -- "
"No," Remus protested, shaking his head, "I never looked at it."
"Then what?" Sirius demanded, his voice rising. "What were you doing there in the middle of the night? If I hadn't come after you -- "
"You followed me?"
"I came to your room, you weren't there. I used a tracing spell to find you."
Remus frowned, trying to make sense of everything. It was like a puzzle that refused to come together.
"I was there because someone," he paused, wondering how much to tell Sirius, " -- someone had been coming to that room at night. I overheard him. I needed to find him."
"A student?" Sirius demanded. "Why didn't you go to Albus?"
"I don't know if it was a student. And -- " he took a deep breath, " -- it was personal. I had to take care of it myself."
Sirius looked confused, and Remus felt a pang in his chest, realizing now that it was not Sirius after all. He had hoped --
"I don't understand what's going on with you, Remus. When did all of this happen? Why didn't you come to me?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," Sirius urged.
"I heard -- " Remus tried to control his voice, which was shaking, " -- someone say that he was in love with me."
A silence hung between them.
"I see," Sirius said finally. "And you thought the only way you could find out who, was by waiting for him to return?"
"Yes," Remus refused to meet Sirius' eyes. "I even thought it might be you."
"Me?" Sirius repeated in bewilderment. "Remus, I would have been honest about my feelings."
"I also thought it might be Snape," Remus confessed.
"Sev--Snape?" Sirius looked at him sharply. "Why him?"
"Because he -- " Remus shrugged helplessly, " -- he brought me breakfast with all my favorite things. He keeps giving me these looks, I can't figure out what they mean. He -- "
"Oh," Sirius looked chagrined, "Remus, that was my fault, I'm afraid."
"Your fault?" Remus repeated, not understanding.
"I was going to tell you. I meant to, but I kept putting it off. I think he was just trying to make it easier for me. To find out how you might react."
"React to what, Sirius?" Remus asked confusedly.
Sirius seemed to take a deep breath and hold it. "Severus and I -- " then his courage failed him.
It didn't matter. Remus understood.
"I'm happy for you," he said, putting his hand over Sirius' gently.
Sirius looked relieved.
"I'm sorry I kept it from you."
"Forget it. It's not important anymore," Remus leaned back in bed, trying to get his thoughts straight.
Not Sirius. Not Snape. Whom did that leave?
"Can we talk about your situation?" Sirius said after a short silence.
Remus met his eyes.
"What is there to talk about?" he asked. "I'm afraid it may be a student."
Sirius considered for a moment. "If it is?"
Remus hadn't thought it through. The idea of becoming involved with a student was not one he was comfortable with, and he had avoided giving it serious consideration.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
"If he understands what -- "
"How could anyone understand what he would be getting into?" Remus interrupted. "The fallout from this. The scandal. The hatred! I wouldn't expect an adult to fully understand, let alone a child."
"Think, Remus. Calm down and think. Someone got close enough to you to develop those feelings. Think of the last three years. How many of them can still be called children, after they've fought by our side throughout the war?"
Remus shook his head. "Look, go to Albus. Have him move the Mirror. I said it once and I'll say it again, it doesn't belong in a school, knowing what it can do, the pain and misery it can cause. Take it away."
Madam Pomfrey returned, interrupting them, motioning for Sirius to leave.
"I will," Sirius assured Remus as he got up. "Get some rest."
"Sirius?" Remus called out before Sirius was half-way to the door. "We still have to find out who it was. The damage that could have already been done..."
Sirius turned around, frowning. "Maybe if we narrowed down the list. The students are kept under close watch, not many could have left their dormitories in the middle of the night repeatedly. What was the date?"
"The first night after my transformation. The night the storm began."
Sirius froze. His eyes flashed.
Before Remus could say anything, Sirius turned away from him.
"I will check into it. Get some rest, Remus."
Seeing that Pomfrey had disappeared into the adjacent chamber, Remus quickly abandoned his bed, grabbing his robes and hurrying after Sirius.
There was only one explanation for Sirius' behavior moments ago.
Sirius had worked out the last piece of the puzzle, when Remus couldn't.
As he followed Sirius at a safe distance, using his heightened sense of hearing to follow the heavy falls of his boots, Remus felt a cold, gnawing feeling begin to grow in the pit of his stomach.
They were heading toward Gryffindor tower.
Sirius had gone inside, to the common room, and Remus was left standing in the corridor outside, feeling frustrated that he could not follow.
A student came out, and before the portrait swung shut Remus saw Sirius disappear up the staircase to the dormitories.
He went inside, and found the common room nearly empty. A few students were studying at a table in the corner, and did not seem to notice him.
He crept up the staircase, pausing often to listen. He stopped just before reaching the last dormitory, pressing close to the wall.
"Look, you don't understand!"
Remus' heart thudded in his chest. His suspicions had proven correct.
"I stumbled across it a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen it since my first year. I know it's dangerous. I only went to it a few times."
"That's a few times too many, Harry."
"You don't have to lecture me, Sirius. How did you find out?"
"Remus -- " Sirius paused, " -- overheard you talking to yourself. Talking to the Mirror."
"He heard me?" Harry sounded shaken.
"He didn't know it was you. But he heard enough. I knew it had to be you. That night I came to find you, because I needed your help with a statement for the Ministry. I hated to wake you, but it was urgent. I found your bed empty and your Invisibility Cloak missing. I didn't say anything the next day, because I didn't want to pry."
There was a silence, during which Remus swiped at a droplet of sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Harry? Is it true? Are you -- "
"Yes."
Remus swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and threatened to choke him.
"How long have you felt this way about him?"
"A year. At least. Maybe longer."
"Is it -- could it be just a -- a crush?" Sirius stumbled over the words.
Harry laughed hollowly.
"You're so young, Harry, would you know -- "
"Don't," Harry interrupted. "Just don't."
A short silence. Then,
"Alright," Sirius said softly. "Lets just think this through."
"There's nothing to think about. Even if he could ever feel the same, we could never be together."
Because I'm a werewolf? Remus asked silently.
"Think of what would happen, Sirius. It's been a year since the war ended, and people still put me on some kind of pedestal. I can never get away from it. Some even say it's my duty. I hate it; some days I think I can't stand it anymore, I would give anything to change it. Think of what would happen -- what they could do, if I was involved with him. The Boy Who Lived and a werewolf, that's all anyone would see. I couldn't ask him to risk everything. His job. Maybe his life. Some people could be angry enough -- I just couldn't. It's bad enough already. For both of us. I can't stand up against that kind of hostility. I can't stand against everyone, Sirius -- " Harry's voice broke, and he fell silent.
After a few moments, Remus heard Sirius draw a deep breath.
"You stood against the Dark Lord, Harry. The people you had by your side, they would stand by you through anything. What can't you face? A world that doesn't understand? That's a curse we all bear," Sirius said bitterly. "There are many who don't believe my innocence. Isn't what we went through last summer proof of that? You just can't -- " he struggled to continue, his voice strained. "Can't let them define who you are, or let them keep you from living your life."
"What about you?" Harry challenged. "Would you stand by us?"
"I -- "
"Don't lie to me, Sirius. I can see what's in your eyes."
Remus' heart gave another throb, a painful one this time.
"I don't know what you see, Harry," Sirius said. "I hope that you see that I would stand by you no matter what course your life took. Maybe you see fear. Maybe I'm just having a hard time understanding. You're just so young, and I -- I can't -- "
"Can't...?" Harry prompted when Sirius didn't finish.
Sirius did not reply. Remus shook his head miserably. This was the person who had told him, less than a quarter hour ago, that he didn't think age made such a difference. So much for that, when his own godson was involved.
"Can't what, Sirius? Can't let me get involved with him?"
Sirius' silence spoke for him.
"That's it, isn't it? The last word!"
"Harry, I -- "
"Well you don't have to worry! He wouldn't look twice at me. I think he likes Snape."
"He doesn't like Snape," Sirius contradicted harshly. "You're misunderstanding me. You're not letting me finish. Or maybe I'm just not saying the right things."
There was a long moment of silence before Harry spoke.
"Then try again."
Sirius stayed silent for such a long time that Remus began to wonder if he would ever speak. Finally he did.
"You're talking about this relationship as though it already exists. It doesn't. It won't, until you know if he can return your feelings. He could reject you, but then you would know. You wouldn't drive yourself to insanity in front of cursed mirrors, not knowing what might have been. Believe me, I know what that mirror offers."
"If he doesn't reject me?" Harry asked.
"Then I -- " Sirius stopped again.
"Please, just say it."
"There are things you don't know, Harry."
"Then tell me. Why is this so hard for you? Is it just my age?"
"No, not just your age," Sirius said wearily. "I don't want to make this any harder, Harry."
Then he sighed in defeat.
"I think that, at some point when we were at school together, Remus may have been in love with your father."
Remus cringed. His secret. Or what he thought was secret.
"What?"
"James never suspected, I think. But Harry, don't you see how this could -- "
"No!" Harry protested angrily. "I'm not James. If my father couldn't love him back -- Sirius, don't you see how different this is?"
"You don't understand, Harry. Sometimes I look at you and I... forget. I forget that you're you, and I see James. There's so much history here, you couldn't possibly understand."
"I don't, you're right. I don't see how this has any relevance."
"I'm just trying to -- " Sirius got up, causing Remus to shrink back against the wall. He seemed to be pacing around the room. " -- I'm trying to think, why he might get involved with you. And I just -- I'm having trouble with it, Harry, can you understand that? An unequal relationship. You're his student. He's twice your age..."
"I can take care of myself."
Harry's voice had been low, but there had been something in it that caused Sirius to stop his pacing. A strength, a determination, something that couldn't be dismissed or argued with. Not a child's reasoning, or a last stance against an argument he could not win, Harry's words were a reminder that his innocence was long gone, that he wouldn't walk naively into any situation. He didn't use that tone often.
It was something they had often tried not to see. In the year since the war, since being forced to accept him as an equal rather than as a child they had to protect, they had slipped back into old roles. Harry as the child, the student, the one protected, and the rest of them as the adults who felt responsible. And guilty. Responsible for his loss.
"Sirius? Don't look at me like that. Please. Say something."
"If this happens, Harry," Sirius said quietly, "I will stand by you. Just know that. You're the one who has to make the choice. All my arguments -- maybe you're right. Maybe none of it matters. I won't say anything more right now."
"Are you going to tell him?"
"No. That's up to you," Sirius moved toward the door, and Remus hastened to slip down to the dormitory below, out of sight.
"And Harry? No more wandering around the castle in the middle of the night. The Mirror will be moved tonight."
Sirius headed down the staircase. Remus waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps in the common room.
He drew a shaky breath.
A student.
Harry.
It was more than he could deal with.
He didn't know what hurt more, the realization that the love he had briefly allowed himself to hope for was unattainable after all, or Sirius' words.
He had to grit his teeth against the pressure and burning behind his eyes.
Even his best friend couldn't accept and trust him enough to allow him to get involved with Harry. Didn't that say it all?
Sirius was right. There was simply no way that Remus could allow himself to think of Harry as anything but his student, his best friend's godson, and James' child...
Remus shuddered as a memory surfaced; the memory of James, proud and smiling, placing his infant son in Remus' arms.
It was finally enough, stronger than any argument he could have put up with his emotions. That one image coming so sharply to his mind froze any desire that still lingered.
It was time to lock those feelings away. It was laughable that he had allowed them to grow to such an extent. Now that he knew the truth, there was nothing he could do but walk away.
He sniffed angrily. Why was he still standing there, still arguing with himself?
He left the dormitory, descending the stairs as quietly as he could.
He didn't see the figure standing in the shadows at the top of the staircase, watching him until he disappeared out of sight.
On his way to his chambers, he had to face an angry Madam Pomfrey, who demanded that he return to the hospital wing at once. He refused. He knew she could get her revenge at some later time, Merlin knew he spent enough time in the infirmary, but he pushed past her, not caring.
He had just sunk wearily down on his bed when someone knocked on his door.
"Remus?" Sirius walked in, a frown on his face. "Pomfrey told me you left the infirmary. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," Remus told him. "I just thought I would rest better here."
"Really?" Sirius asked, peering around him at the undisturbed bed. He fixed Remus with a suspicious look.
A shrewd, calculating look.
Remus averted his eyes.
"I see," Sirius said quietly. He pulled up a chair, sitting down a good distance away from Remus.
They sat in silence. Remus refusing to look at him.
"Alright," Sirius finally said, still in the same low, tense voice. "I don't know how much you heard... How much of our friendship did I damage?"
"You haven't," Remus replied quickly, looked up at him. "How can I blame you? It was my own fault, letting my feelings get out of hand. I would never touch Harry, Sirius -- "
"You think I'm a hypocrite," Sirius said, not letting him finish, "because I told you age shouldn't be the deciding factor for pursuing a relationship with someone. But this is Harry, Remus. Harry. James' -- "
"You don't have to tell me!" Remus exclaimed. "I told you before, I would never get involved with a student. If it had been someone else, maybe I would have been tempted to let your words mean more."
Sirius stayed silent.
"Of course it was him. You said it yourself, Sirius, it had to be someone who got close to me."
"It could have been anyone," Sirius said, shaking his head. "You don't notice, Remus, I don't think. You're one of the best-liked teachers at this school. You spend a lot of time tutoring students individually. Any one of them could have -- "
"Started to feel comfortable with me? Enough to love me? I think you're the one who doesn't see. There's hardly anyone in this school who doesn't feel at least some unease around me."
Sirius stood up.
"I just want you to know, Remus, that your lycanthropy is not among the reasons -- "
"Really?" Remus sneered.
Sirius' eyes flashed angrily.
"Believe what you want. If he were older -- if I thought he was ready -- I would give my blessing. What does he know about relationships? How could he keep himself from becoming -- "
"You think I would use him?" Remus abandoned his seat, his anger exploding. "You think I would have that little respect for him -- and just -- "
"What is going on?" a voice asked from the doorway.
They whipped around to face the speaker.
"Albus wants you in the staffroom," Snape said cautiously. "Unless this is a bad time..." He looked from one angry face to the other, and finally focused on Sirius, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
"This isn't... about us," Sirius told him, trying to recover control of his voice.
"If you say so," Snape's eyes strayed for another look at Remus, who was still shaking with anger.
"Tell Albus we'll be right there," Sirius told him.
Without answering, Snape stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Sirius and Remus stood in silence, the interruption having thrown them off balance. Unable to backtrack, they stared wordlessly at each other.
Finally Sirius broke the silence.
"Look, lets wait until we've had a chance to calm down and think about this."
Remus nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak.
The staff meeting was tense. They avoided looking at each other. Dumbledore studied them intensely, knowing, as he usually knew these things, that all was not well between them. Remus was grateful when the meeting broke up for dinner.
He didn't want to sit next to Sirius. He sat on Dumbledore's left, Snape's usual place. Sirius glanced at him, narrowing his eyes, but said nothing. It seemed to Remus that they both avoided looking at the students, and each watched the other out of the corners of his eyes.
Halfway through dinner, Remus saw Snape lean toward Sirius to whisper something into his ear. Sirius' eyes widened and he turned abruptly to look at the Gryffindor table. Remus followed his gaze.
Harry was not at the table.
Their eyes met over Dumbledore's head.
Sirius got up, motioning for Remus to follow him. They entered the small antechamber off the Hall.
"Could he know you heard us talking?" Sirius demanded, keeping his voice low in case they could be overheard.
"I don't think so," Remus shook his head. "I was careful."
"You know how alert he is."
Remus didn't know what to say to that. Even after the war ended, Harry had remained keenly aware of his environment, unable to ignore suspicious sounds and his own intuition. At times he seemed to have almost a sixth sense about potential dangers, not unlike Remus' own heightened senses.
"You know where he probably is. I told him the Mirror would be moved tonight. If he wanted one more look -- "
"Then go! Go get him. He's taking a chance with his -- "
"You go."
"What?" Remus wasn't sure he heard right. He turned to look at Sirius.
Sirius looked back at him calmly, though his face was considerably paler than usual.
"You heard me. Go. I'll stand by what I told him. It's his decision what he does with his life. I was wrong to accuse you of being able to willfully hurt him. And as for the other kind -- that could happen in any relationship -- I can't protect him from it."
Remus took a few steps toward the door, then looked back.
"I won't do it. I won't get involved with him."
"Remus," Sirius said wearily, "maybe you can argue with yourself, but I can see that you still want this. The fact that it turned out to be Harry has not lessened -- "
"Yes, I want this, Sirius. But not him! You of all people know how impossible the idea of finding love has always seemed to me. Yes, I want it! That doesn't mean I'll throw myself at anyone."
"Just a few hours ago, you as good as told me that you would have thrown yourself at anyone other than Harry," Sirius reminded him. "Now, please, just go. I can't argue with you anymore."
Remus went. He ignored the questioning looks from staff and students as he made his way out of the Great Hall. Turning to look back, he saw Sirius return his seat. Sirius met his eyes across the room, and nodded briefly.
Suddenly he found himself standing in the seventh floor corridor, with only a vague memory of the many staircases he had ascended to get there. His heart was pounding and his breath came raggedly as he walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty hallway.
It was closed, but not locked. He pushed it open, revealing the room, already semi-dark in the twilight.
For a moment he thought no one was there. The Mirror stood, as it always had, shrouded and undisturbed. Dust swirled in the air, caught by the few rays of light that came in between the drapes on the windows.
Then he saw him.
Harry was sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the wall, much like Remus had sat during his nightly stakeouts.
"Harry?" Remus stepped into the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.
Harry remained silent, his eyes still focused on the covered Mirror.
"Harry?" Remus repeated, coming closer.
Harry turned to look at him. His eyes were angry, his lips pulled into a tight line.
Cautiously, Remus sat down on the floor next to him.
"I can see you're angry. If you don't want to talk to me, I understand, but I think we need -- "
"If you wanted to talk, you had your chance."
"I'm sorry I listened in on your private conversation," Remus said, feeling guilty for the first time. He had been so caught up in his pursuit of the truth that it had not occurred to him that eavesdropping was wrong.
"Doesn't matter. What you did afterwards is so much more telling."
"I was angry..." Remus let his voice trail off, not knowing just what he meant to say.
"At him? Good -- we could have been angry together."
"Sirius told me to come and find you, Harry," Remus told him.
Harry looked at him skeptically.
"I'll bet he did."
"We argued, earlier," Remus continued, ignoring the comment, "but in the end he told me the same thing he told you. It isn't his decision to make."
"But it is yours," Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest. "So go ahead. Tell me. Tell me I'm crazy."
Remus stared at him. Harry's face was drawn, his mouth set as though he was gritting his teeth. Ready for the worst.
The silence stretched.
"I only ask one thing," Harry said quietly, when it became apparent that Remus was not going to speak. "Not because I'm seventeen. Not because I'm James' son. Pick anything. Say it's because my hair is messy. It would be a better reason."
"Don't you think those are good reasons?" Remus asked.
"No."
"I've been your teacher for four years. I'm still your teacher. Don't you think that's a good reason?"
"Not with less than four months before I leave Hogwarts."
"I'm sorry, but I have to say it. You're young enough to be my -- "
"My parents got married at eighteen. Are you saying they made a mistake? That they didn't know what they were doing?"
"Times -- " Remus began, but didn't get to finish.
"Are you really about to tell me to enjoy my childhood?" Harry demanded.
Remus shook his head.
"I meant -- people thought they had to grab at happiness -- but you have time -- "
"Then maybe," Harry said viciously, glaring at him, "I should go lie down on a pedestal in that -- that museum -- and let people look at me -- just let them look until they're sick of me -- maybe then I can live my life. Because obviously I don't have the right to live it now. Everything can wait -- because I'm going to live -- so I can wait to live -- is that what you're saying?"
To Remus' horror, Harry began to cry, tears rolling down his face, his shoulders shuddering with silent sobs.
"Harry?" Remus reached out a hand.
"Don't touch me!" Harry pulled away from him, wiping his face roughly with his sleeve. "Two years -- for two years, I waited to die," he looked up at Remus, who had reacted with shock to his words. "And this past year, all around me, people are living. And I -- I don't even know how."
"Did you really think you were going to die, Harry? All that time, while you were preparing to -- "
"What do you think? I sure as hell didn't think I was going to save the world."
"But it's over..."
"Damn right it's over," Harry said, with such bitterness that he startled Remus into silence. He looked him squarely in the eyes. "What do you think I'm going to do now? Will I join the Ministry, like everyone seems to think I should? Become the next Minister of Magic, maybe? Is that what will suit the world?"
"You don't think you have a place in this world?" Remus asked.
"Oh, I have my place, alright," Harry smirked. "I have my place -- and I don't want it. Maybe I don't want to do what's expected of me anymore. Maybe it's enough that I sacrificed the better part of myself when I killed Voldemort," he looked at Remus, reminding him of the toll using the Killing Curse had taken. "Maybe I want to tell the Ministry recruiters to go to hell. The same to Quidditch. Quidditch -- " he laughed mirthlessly, " -- they wanted me to play Quidditch when the world was falling apart, do you remember that? Do you remember the crowds that would show up just to see me practice? Dumbledore had to lock them out, finally. Do you remember? My duty -- to raise the morale -- " he laughed again.
Remus didn't respond. What could he say? Harry wanted to be free to live his own life. Didn't he deserve that?
Harry had grown somber. He nodded toward the Mirror of Erised.
"When I found it, I thought it would show me a world where I wasn't important."
Remus frowned. "But it showed me instead?"
"It did," Harry said, sighing. "I couldn't understand what it meant."
"Do you understand now?" Remus asked.
Harry looked at him, smiling weakly. "That you are my deepest desire?"
Then the smile vanished.
"I've accepted that I'm not going to have a normal life. I can't even dream about it -- it's that impossible. I suppose the Mirror showed me something that could make me happy, even if the world won't change because of it."
"How would I make you happy?"
"You won't look at the world and think it's perfect because of anything I've done. You won't look at it and think everything is normal, or right, or -- " Harry shook his head, out of words.
"So we can wallow in misery together?"
"Not misery. Understanding, maybe," Harry turned to face him. "I want someone who understands. Who was there."
There was no answer to that, Remus knew. Many people had taken part in the war, but only a few were alive now who had been there by Harry's side.
They sat in silence for several minutes, each unwilling to break it.
"Your hair is messy," Remus said finally.
Harry looked at him, as though he knew what Remus would say next.
"Like James' was," Remus finished softly.
"You were in love with him?" Harry asked, averting his eyes.
"When we were in school -- yes," Remus sighed. The memory welled up inside him, painful and as strong as ever.
"I remind you of him?"
Remus smiled weakly. "You remind everyone of him who knew him."
"Is what Sirius fears reasonable? Would I be just a stand-in?"
How had they gotten this far? Remus wondered. Why did all the reasons not to pursue this seem to turn to dust when the surface was scratched? Hadn't he, just a few hours earlier, asked himself this question and had been afraid that it could be true? Why, then, when Harry asked him, was he hit with the realization that it was only another defense he had erected to keep his true feelings at bay?
"No," he answered. "James -- "
"Has been dead for nearly two decades," Harry finished.
Remus flinched.
"I was going to say, James was -- " he stopped, seeing Harry studying him. "It doesn't matter. You're not James."
"No," Harry agreed.
The sun went down behind the horizon at that moment, and darkness surrounded them. Remus could no longer make out Harry's features, only his shape next to him on the floor.
After a short silence, Harry shifted, gathering his robes closer around himself.
"It's freezing in here," he commented, and there was a catch in his voice.
Remus understood. Whatever decision they were going to make, now was the time. They couldn't sit there all night.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Harry."
That wasn't true, he realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He knew exactly what Harry wanted. It was what he himself wanted that he didn't know.
He sighed wearily.
No, that wasn't true either.
So he clung to the final piece of rational reasoning that was in his possession.
"We couldn't possibly begin a relationship while you are still at school."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean why not?" Remus demanded. "For one thing, there are rules. School rules as well as actual laws. And -- and I have to grade your N.E.W.T.s -- "
Harry laughed.
"My N.E.W.T.s? Now that's just silly. All teachers have their favorites, but I've never known you to give grades based on how much you like a student."
"That's not what others might think. Your grade may be challenged if people knew we -- " Remus stopped suddenly, not knowing how to end the sentence.
"Have Snape grade them, then," Harry said dismissively. "He's been teaching Defense every time you couldn't. He's the official assistant instructor for the class. And there's no chance that he would favor me."
Then he paused.
"Although," he said slowly, "he has been acting strange lately. He hasn't yelled at me in Potions in such a long time, and I know I've been messing up as often as always."
Remus was glad that it was dark and that Harry couldn't see his grimace. He didn't want to be there when Harry was told that he wouldn't be seeing the last of Snape when he graduated. As much as things had changed, some things simply hadn't.
"Alright," Harry continued, abandoning the subject of Snape, "maybe you have a point about school rules. You would be risking your job."
He stopped, and Remus heard him draw a ragged breath.
"What about a few months from now, when I graduate?" he asked, his voice low.
Remus' mind whirled. Now or never. Did he know what he was doing? A few words could change his life forever. Did Sirius expect him to come out of this room having rejected Harry thoroughly? If so, he should have known better than to send him.
Harry was waiting for his answer, he knew. Waiting in the dark, not being able to see him, just waiting for the verdict to come down.
"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but thundering inside his own head.
The word seemed to echo several times through the room, though he knew that to be impossible. Maybe it was just him, because he suddenly felt very dizzy...
The shadows around him shifted. Harry's eyes glistened in the darkness. Inches away from his own face.
He couldn't have stopped it even if he had been up to attempting.
Harry's lips met his, touching down softly. His breath was warm on Remus' cheek.
Was it only because he was half frozen that Remus thought Harry's tongue was on fire as it flicked across his lower lip?
He came back into himself with a jolt.
What was he doing?
He made a grab for Harry's shoulders, intending to push him away.
He only made it half-way.
His hands closed over Harry's upper arms, but as Harry pressed harder against him, sucking on his lower lip, biting gently, Remus could not bring himself to do anything to end the kiss.
Harry pressed closer still, trying now to part Remus' lips with his tongue. Remus found it in himself to resist, holding Harry firmly. Then Harry brought his hand up to stroke the side of Remus' face, and whatever control Remus thought he still had, left him. He responded eagerly, hungrily, his hands leaving Harry's arms and wrapping tightly around his torso.
How far they would have gotten, he would never know.
The room was flooded suddenly with the light of a single torch, which after the nearly complete darkness seemed blinding.
It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust enough to see that Sirius stood in the doorway, his expression neutral, except for his eyes, which seemed to widen impossibly as he stared at Harry and Remus.
Remus couldn't imagine what Sirius must be thinking, but he knew what he was seeing. Harry was crouched over him, his knees hugging Remus' thighs, his hands lost somewhere inside Remus' robes, wrapped around his ribcage. His lips were already swollen from the kiss, glistening with saliva, and Remus could only imagine that his own were as well.
He released Harry, guiltily aware that one of his hands had dipped dangerously low from its initial place on his shoulder.
It took them a moment to disentangle from each other, Sirius watching mutely all the while.
When they were finally on their feet, Sirius cleared his throat.
"You have about two minutes -- "
To what? Remus thought wildly. Run? Two minutes' head start?
" -- to get out of here before Dumbledore and McGonagall come to move this thing out," Sirius finished, gesturing at the Mirror.
Beside him, Harry began to laugh nervously, guiltily. Color was returning to his face. Remus felt his own face flushing.
They left the room, having to squeeze past Sirius, who hadn't moved aside, to make it into the hallway. Remus couldn't bring himself to look his friend in the eyes.
They stopped at the top of the staircase. Neither of them knew spoke. Moments passed. Any minute now, they would be found there by Dumbledore and McGonagall, and both knew that Dumbledore would not miss the guilt written all over their faces.
"You better go," Remus told Harry.
Harry nodded, but didn't move.
Remus started down the stairs, still feeling Harry's eyes on his back. At the bottom of the first flight, he looked over his shoulder.
Harry was gone.
By the time he made it to his own chambers, Remus was overcome with remorse.
What had he done?
Exactly what he had said he wouldn't do.
And to be caught by Sirius, that was the worst of it. He collapsed on his bed, groaning. How was he going to face Sirius in the morning?
He hadn't realized how tired he was, until his head hit the soft pillow. Despite the thoughts running through his head, Remus found his eyes closing, and minutes later he was asleep.
Morning came all too quickly, and in spite of a desperate desire to hide, he forced himself to dress and go to the Great Hall.
He didn't look for Harry. In fact he avoided looking in the direction of the Gryffindor table.
Sirius he couldn't avoid. Snape was back in his usual seat, leaving Remus the chair next to Sirius.
"Sleep well?" Sirius inquired as soon as he sat down.
Remus turned slowly to look at him. There was no indication on Sirius' face that he meant anything more than what he said.
"Yes," he replied cautiously.
"Good. I was going to check on you, but it was late."
"Hmm," Remus said noncommittally.
To his relief, Dumbledore rose to make morning announcements.
He had classes that morning, and didn't see Harry until the lunch hour, but Harry was waiting outside his office when he came to drop off his books and the essays he had collected from his last class.
"Harry," he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
Harry smiled, approaching.
"You're not avoiding me, are you?" he asked. "I tried to catch your eye during breakfast, but you didn't look in my direction once."
"I'm not avoiding you," Remus denied. "I'm -- I might be avoiding making Sirius angrier than he already is."
"He isn't," Harry said, shaking his head. "Really. I talked to him this morning -- or should I say he cornered me between classes -- and he told me it didn't bother him as much as he'd thought it would."
Remus remained unconvinced.
"I have a feeling he'll have something entirely different to say to me."
Harry shrugged. "I guess it wasn't the best way to show him we were taking this whole thing seriously."
"No," Remus agreed.
"Do you want to go to lunch together, or should we be seen together as seldom as possible?" Harry asked, watching as Remus put away the stack of essays in his desk drawer.
"I think," Remus said slowly, "that we need to act normally. We're seen together often, so there's no reason to avoid each other now."
Why, he thought as soon as the words left his mouth, was it so easy to speak as though their relationship was already written in stone? They'd kissed -- that was all. One night, one kiss -- it did not make a relationship.
"Alright then," Harry said, brightening, "lets go."
They turned toward the stairs, and came face to face with Sirius.
"Harry," Sirius said, but although he spoke to Harry, his eyes met and held Remus', "run along."
Harry's eyes widened, but he hastened to obey. He gave Remus a helpless shrug from behind Sirius' back, then disappeared down the staircase.
"Remus," Sirius said once they were alone, "shall we talk in your office?"
He walked inside ahead of Remus, not waiting for him to respond.
After a moment's hesitation, Remus followed. The door shut behind him.
Sirius made himself comfortable in on of the chairs. "Sit, Remus, don't just stand there."
Remus sat down.
"I think you already know that you didn't start out well. Imagine what would have happened if Albus had walked in on you."
Remus imagined, and shuddered. He would probably be packing his bags, instead of sitting here with Sirius.
"I don't know what I thought was going to happen when I told you to go find Harry last night," Sirius continued. "No, scratch that. I thought you were going to talk to him. Not end up rolling around on the floor like -- "
"We were not rolling around on the floor!" Remus denied hotly.
"Alright, fine," Sirius put up a hand to stop his protest, "you weren't rolling around. Look, I recall being caught by a certain head of house in a certain broom closet during fifth year, so you don't have to tell me you're embarrassed."
Remus' face flushed at being likened to a hormonal fifth year. Was that how things had looked from Sirius' point of view?
"I don't think I was ready for things to... progress so quickly," Sirius sighed, shaking his head. "Somehow I envisioned the two of you waiting until the summer."
Then he shrugged. "But I think that was naive of me. Not to mention impractical for you."
Remus looked up suspiciously at him. "Really?"
"Well," Sirius said, shrugging again, "it isn't like four months will make any difference, if you've already decided you will pursue this relationship. It doesn't make sense to pretend you haven't made that decision."
Remus sat up a little straighter. This was going a lot better than he expected.
"That does not," Sirius said pointedly, "mean that you can throw caution to the wind. You're still his teacher. Unless you want to lose your job -- "
"No," Remus told him, "of course not."
"Then -- just be rational."
Remus nodded. He wouldn't lose control again.
"Well then," Sirius said, getting up, "that's all I have to say."
Remus breathed a sigh of relief as they left the office and headed for the Great Hall. He caught Harry's eyes as he made his way to the staff table, and smiled.
Remus had no afternoon classes that day. He had essays to grade, but he was feeling emotionally drained after the tense moments earlier, and decided to spend a few quiet hours alone in his chambers. It had been a while since he'd had a chance to read the newspaper, or catch up on Ministry reports. He didn't want to become out of touch with what was happening outside the walls of Hogwarts.
He stepped through the door, shutting it behind himself.
It took him a moment to realize that something odd had happened.
Instead of four torches, a dozen candles had flickered into light around the room, casting a warm yellowish glow.
His eyes swept across the small space, coming to rest on the bed.
He groaned.
Harry sat in the middle of the bed, his robes off and folded over a chair next to the bed, his feet bare.
Remus wanted to turn around, throw open the door, and --
He knew he should.
But he stood still, rooted to the spot, unable to avert his eyes.
"Harry?" he finally asked. "Don't you have a class?"
Brilliant, he thought immediately. Instead of demanding what the hell he's doing sitting on my bed, I --
"No," Harry said innocently. He patted the bed next to him. "I thought we could talk."
Be rational, Remus reminded himself. Be rational. This is not a rational situation --
"Sit down?" Harry pleaded, patting the bed again.
Why can't I finish my thoughts? Remus asked himself desperately. And why am I moving --
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and immediately wondered how he had crossed the room without realizing it.
"Harry, this isn't a good idea," he said, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You shouldn't be here -- "
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"What happened last night..." Remus spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
"Was that so bad?" Harry tilted his head to one side quizzically.
Remus looked at him incredulously. "Harry, we can't -- "
"No?"
Remus shook his head. "No."
Harry didn't answer, and they sat in silence, Remus struggling with the realization that he couldn't make Harry leave. The fact was, as much as he tried to restrain himself, something in him wanted to burst out, to howl with the happiness of having found something he had for so long thought impossible...
Howl with happiness? Remus's eyes widened at the thought.
Rational!
Be rational!
He looked at Harry, who had the strangest smile of his face, and felt all semblance of rationality leaving him like a rat abandoning a sinking ship.
He wanted this. He wanted his seventeen year old student, his soon-to-be partner...
He wanted to kiss him, grope him, throw him down on the bed and --
Something in his mind was still capable of protesting, but its voice was growing fainter by the second. His own weakness terrified him. He fought for control, even while he watched helplessly as Harry inched toward him. A losing battle. If he couldn't resist with the length of the room between them, how could he resist with mere centimeters separating their --
Their lips met. Intelligent thought deserted him, leaving only the raw need.
His hands closed around Harry's shoulders, and he was pulling him closer even as he pushed him down on the bed until Harry was underneath him, until the weight of his body was holding Harry firmly down.
If Harry had been the aggressor the previous night, that was not the case now. From the moment he felt Harry's mouth over his, Remus had lost control, and now all he knew was that he needed Harry, needed to taste him, to possess him. He pushed Harry's mouth open, tracing his lips with a sweep of his tongue, his fingers coiling through Harry's hair and pulling him even closer.
The layers of clothing between them did not prevent Remus from feeling the heat radiating off of Harry's body.
Too many clothes. His hands tugged at Harry's sweater, a futile effort given their position. He was unwilling to break the kiss, but slowed down just enough to let something besides the taste of Harry's mouth begin to register in his brain.
Harry's arms were around him, kneading his shoulders. He had freed one of his legs, and Remus could feel Harry's knee pressed against his thigh, pinning him. They were tangled in each other, unwilling and unable to break apart.
Too many damn clothes. He tore his mouth away from Harry's, only to move it to his neck. He needed to touch skin, and there seemed to be so little of it exposed to him.
Harry stretched to lick Remus' ear, then bit down harder than Remus expected. He moaned, arching his back, and for the first time felt his erection grind into Harry's thigh. Even that small amount of stimulation caused tingles to shoot up and down his spine, and when Harry arched against him in response, when he felt Harry's own erection against his stomach, Remus could stand to wait no longer.
He pushed himself up to his knees, leaving Harry staring confusedly up at him, his hands pulled from Remus' shoulders and falling to the bed limply. Then he smiled, as Remus pulled his robes over his head, tossing them carelessly to the floor.
In response, Harry began to pull his sweater off, exposing his stomach as the shirt underneath was dragged upward.
His desire was too strong, and the sight of Harry's bare flesh pushed him even closer to the edge. Remus could not wait. Leaning down, he planted the first kiss on Harry's abdomen, then, as he the sensation registered, brought his mouth down harder, licking, dragging his tongue over Harry's bellybutton, then upward toward his ribs. His hands assisted, pushing Harry's sweater to clear the way for his mouth.
Harry's skin was so soft, like velvet, covered in fine hairs. Remus felt Harry's muscles contracting, straining, under the skin where he touched.
Too much, yet not enough. Touching Harry this way for the first time caused his senses to reach near overload, but he needed more, he needed to keep pushing the limits. Remus could no longer ignore the aching in his groin; it was nearing pain.
"Remus," Harry's voice was hoarse and his fingers dug into Remus' hair as Remus dragged his tongue roughly over Harry's ribs, feeling each ridge.
Maybe it was Harry's voice, calling him by his given name for the first time ever. Maybe it was the way Harry's breath was coming fast and ragged in response to Remus' touch. Or Remus' own desires, spiraling out of control.
He tasted blood.
The salty, bitter taste filled his mouth, even before he heard Harry cry out in pain, before Harry shoved him away, his knee connecting painfully with Remus' chest.
His vision cleared, and the trance of desire vanished as though cold water had been thrown on him. Remus stared, horrified, at Harry's hand, held tightly against his side, and the blood that seeped between his fingers.
His eyes flickered upward, to Harry's face, where confusion was mingled with shock, anger, and --
Fear.
"Harry," the word threatened to choke him.
Harry had moved to the other end of the bed, not taking his eyes off Remus, except to glance down briefly at his wound.
The bleeding had stopped, Remus saw. A shallow bite.
Bite.
How had he lost control so utterly, that he had done this? It was impossible, impossible, just completely --
"Harry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, stretching out his hand toward him, then letting it fall when Harry pulled back. "I'm so sorry."
"Is this...?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
"No!" Remus exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. "No, of course not, not while I'm in human form." He drew a quivering breath. "This was... a mark."
"Mark?" Harry asked, frowning slightly. Some of the fear had left his face, but he regarded Remus with suspicion.
Remus was too shaken to speak coherently, the understand of what he had done finally coming full force, his own words making it real.
"I'm so sorry, Harry -- I never thought I was capable of -- of losing control so completely -- and doing this -- "
"What did you do?" Harry asked, looking down again and tentatively lifting his fingers from his flesh. He winced in pain.
"I -- I marked..." Remus had to take several deep breaths before he could continue. "I marked you as my mate."
Silence.
Long, uncomfortable, and broken only by the creak of the bedsprings as Harry shifted slightly.
"Harry? Say something," Remus pleaded finally, unable to take Harry's silence any longer.
Harry cleared his throat. "Well..."
Then he began to laugh, softly at first, just his shoulders shaking, and finally out loud.
Remus stared at him, not understanding.
"This sure ruined the mood, didn't it?" Harry said, his laughter ceasing suddenly.
Remus shook his head slowly.
"There shouldn't have been a mood to ruin. This was all my fault, Harry. I can't believe I -- "
"It was my fault for coming here. I knew what would happen. I wanted it," Harry contradicted. Then he added, his tone changing and his voice lower, "Of course, I didn't expect you to bite me."
"Please -- let me take a look," Remus said, reminded suddenly that the bite needed to be taken care of.
Harry hesitated, then shuffled closer.
" Lumos!" Remus muttered, retrieving his wand from the floor, and pried Harry's fingers away gently. He swallowed. It wasn't as bad as he thought, despite the amount of blood.
"Let me clean it," he told Harry, rising from the bed to get a cloth and a bowl of water.
Once the blood had been cleaned away, the angry red welt was clearly visible on Harry's pale skin, a bruise already forming around it.
"Do you want to go to the nurse?"
"Right," Harry snorted, "brilliant idea."
Remus nodded. He found a clean handkerchief and some spellotape he had intended to use to reinforce the binding of a book. He laid them on the bed, and began his work.
"There," he said when he finished, picking up the bowl of bloody water and the soiled cloth and carrying them into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror, at his pale face and disheveled hair. Shaking his head, he turned away, unable to look himself in the eyes.
Harry was pulling on his boots when Remus returned to the room. Silently, Remus picked his robes up off the floor and put them on. He turned back, and saw that Harry had pulled up his sweater and was examining the bandage.
"Do you think it will heal without -- "
A knock at the door startled them. They turned, and saw that the visitor had not bothered to wait for a reply, and the door was swinging open.
In one quick movement, Harry jerked down his sweater, wincing in pain as his knuckles grazed over the site of the wound, just as Sirius came into the room.
Sirius looked around the dim, candle-lit room with a frown. Catching the disapproving look, Remus hurriedly lit the torches.
"Remus, Harry," he said, looking them over, "did I interrupt something?"
"No," Harry said, the calm tone of his voice surprising Remus. "Although I think in the future you should knock -- and wait."
Sirius fixed him with a suspicious look, but said nothing. Instead he turned to Remus.
"I don't think this -- " he made a motion to indicate the candles, " -- is in keeping with what we talked about this afternoon. Dumbledore was looking for Harry earlier. It's only a matter of time before he -- or someone else -- puts two and two together, if you keep disappearing like this."
"It was my fault, Sirius," Harry interrupted. "I came here because I wanted to talk to him."
Sirius frowned at him. "You should know better. Imagine if you were caught in his bedroom by -- "
"It won't happen again," Harry said dismissively, striding past Sirius to the door. "Is it time for dinner yet?"
"Almost," Sirius said, his voice losing some of the tension.
Remus allowed himself a small sigh of relief as Harry left the room and Sirius appeared to be about to follow.
Then Sirius' eyes swept past him, and his expression changed to one of shocked disbelief. He turned on Remus, his eyes flashing with anger. His hand shot out, shoving the door closed, trapping Remus in the room with him.
Remus looked to where Sirius' eyes had been a moment earlier, a cold feeling of dread already spreading through him.
The covers on the bed were dotted with red, where drops of blood had fallen during the scuffle.
Sirius was staring at him mutely, accusing without the need for words.
"Sirius, I -- "
With Sirius' eyes on him, he felt he would prefer to sink through the floor than to face his friend's anger, but there was nothing to do but confess the truth.
"I marked him," he said softly, still hardly believing his own words.
Sirius made a strangled sound in his throat, causing Remus to take an involuntary step back.
"Then -- you had sex with him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"No!" Remus took another step back. "I swear, I didn't."
Sirius' eyes narrowed. Remus could see he didn't believe him.
"We were just kissing -- Sirius, I swear, that's all," he said, feeling desperate.
"Where were you kissing him?"
Remus blinked in momentary confusion. "What?"
"Where were you kissing him -- I didn't see any bites on his face," Sirius' lip curled in a sneer.
Caught in a half-truth, Remus couldn't find an answer.
"I thought so," Sirius said when Remus did not reply. "I can't -- "
He was interrupted by the door opening, and Harry came hesitantly back into the room.
"Well," Sirius said, turning to look him over, "let me see it."
Harry hesitated, looking at Remus, then pulled up his sweater to reveal the bandage.
Sirius stared for a moment, then shot Remus another fierce look.
The silence lasted long enough to make Remus want to scream.
Finally Sirius shook his head slowly, and sighed.
"Come with me," he said to Harry, "we'll get this taken care of."
Harry didn't move.
"Well?" Sirius asked, having taken a few steps toward the door before realizing that Harry was not following.
"I'm not going to Pomfrey," Harry said firmly.
Sirius regarded him for a moment.
"Of course not," he finally said. "Imagine going to the school nurse with a bite like that," he sniffed with contempt.
"Then where?" Harry demanded. "It's not like you have any more medi-training than Remus does."
"We're going to see Snape," Sirius told him with cold finality in his voice, reaching out to take him by the upper arm.
Harry's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. No sound came out. He allowed Sirius to pull him out of the room, looking over his shoulder helplessly at Remus.
Not knowing what else to do, Remus followed them. This was his fault. He needed to see it through.
"Sirius -- wait," Harry protested, regaining the power of speech and trying to wrestle his arm out of Sirius' grasp. "Snape? That's the quickest way to have the whole school -- "
"No," Sirius said, cutting him off.
It was a short way to Snape's office, but Sirius walked passed it. Instead they continued down the corridor, finally reaching a door at the end. Sirius pushed it open, not bothering to knock.
Snape was sitting behind a desk, writing, and looked up in surprise as they walked in.
"Harry had a little -- accident -- " Sirius paused, with another bitter look at Remus, " -- and it's not something we can go to Pomfrey with. Will you take a look?"
"What sort of accident?" Snape asked, putting down his quill and coming out from behind the desk.
"Show him," Sirius said to Harry, who scowled before complying.
"Sit," Snape motioned Harry toward the bed.
Harry sat down, looking uneasy as Snape leaned over him and began to pull off the bandage.
"Ow! -- "
Snape had pulled the tape off with one quick jerk.
Remus cringed at the sight of the bite, around which Harry's flesh was bruised and swollen. Snape turned to look at him, something like a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. Then he turned back to Harry.
"Stop hovering, Black," he said irritably, pushing Sirius out of the way. "You're in my light. Go fetch that box on my desk."
Sirius brought back the box, and Snape took out two vials. "And a glass of water," he commanded.
Once it was brought, he measured out two drops of blue liquid, and handed it to Harry. "For the pain," he said shortly.
Harry drank, and after the glass was empty, Snape poured a dark orange paste from the other vial directly over the wound. Harry hissed in pain, clutching at the bed covers.
Replacing both vials in the box, Snape took out his wand and muttered something as he passed it twice over Harry's skin.
"That's all I can do. I don't have anything to take down the bruising, but the wound is closed now and should heal on its own."
All this time, Remus had stood off to the side, hesitant to approach any closer, and watched. Witnessing Harry's pain, he had to struggle to keep from rushing to his side, reminding himself that he was the cause.
Somewhere above, the dinner bell rang.
"You first?" Snape asked, motioning toward the door.
"No," Sirius shook his head, "you go ahead. Take Harry."
Harry scrambled off the bed, unwilling to be led to the Great Hall by Snape, and left the room with Snape on his heels.
Remus was left in the now silent room with Sirius.
"Do you know what makes me angry, Remus?" Sirius said as sound of footsteps died away in the corridor outside.
Remus shook his head, not knowing how to answer, and knowing that any answer would be inadequate.
Sirius regarded him for a moment before continuing. "You did this before you could possibly know if this relationship will work. You know what makes me angry? Someone's hung all their hopes on him. Again. Hasn't he had enough of that, Remus?"
"He can walk away, if it doesn't work," Remus protested. "The mark won't stop him from doing that."
"No?" Sirius asked. "Do you think he'll walk away, knowing how you've gambled on him?"
Again, Remus didn't have an answer.
"How could you, Remus? You've just gambled your only chance at this, and you've barely had time to adjust to thinking of him as anything but a student -- or friend. How can you know, that in a month, or six months, you won't find that you've made a mistake?"
Remus stared at him, unable to put into words what he was feeling. The memory of Harry's hungry, heated kisses flooded his mind, along with many other images. Harry, staying up long into the night to help him translate ancient texts. Standing tall at the center of a scene of carnage. Clinging to him when they thought Sirius was among the dead. The first time he had looked at Remus and smiled, really smiled, with his eyes as well as his lips, many weeks after the war had ended. And finally, sprawled on Remus' bed, eyes beckoning...
"I just -- know," he said softly, knowing that Sirius couldn't possibly understand what went into those words.
Sirius shook his head skeptically.
"Too late now, isn't it? We'll see."
"I promise you -- I won't trap him. If he's ever unhappy..."
Sirius looked at him for a long moment, considering.
"I hope he will be happy," he said. Then added softly, his eyes sweeping across the dimly-lit room, "Merlin knows we all deserve it."
They walked out of Snape's chambers together, toward the light and sounds filtering down the staircase from the Great Hall.
Afterword
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