Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first. Find it through the author link @ ff.net or skyehawke.com.

Rating: This section – R (I think, but if anyone thinks it's NC17 please let me know and I'll write an alternate version for ff.net before it gets taken down)

Pairings: This section – elements of HP/DM, SS/HP, mostly DM/RL.

Notes: Note the change of title for this chapter (for editing reasons).

Spoilers: Various up to the end of Book IV. No OotP whatsoever.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and various corporate tentacles.

Archiving: Only where I've agreed.

Feedback/Reviews: Please, it's just plain encouraging. I'm especially grateful to people who give me some direction as to what works and what doesn't.

Pervinco VIII: The Classical Temper (c)

It was impossible not to feel like things were different. At dinner and in Potions Harry felt like Snape was preoccupied, and particularly avoiding eye or any other contact with him. Everywhere else, all the places Snape was not, he felt like any moment now someone would turn around and say "we all know, you know," or, "I know that you're doing it with Snape," or "so Snape's your boyfriend now is he." The other and worse possibility haunting him was this always on the edge of his seat fear that he would leap up himself and yell out "I'm shagging Snape," or something worse like "I think I'm sort of maybe falling in love with Snape" – though that was too long to yell and he wasn't at all sure it was true. He felt something, though, something hot and anxious and fluttery, that wasn't just about wanting more of the kissing and nakedness and touching and coming and maybe even more next time.

Tuesday night, Lavender was still talking about the "choosing your supplicant through divination" special they'd discussed last night, and for no particular reason Harry suddenly realised that he was probably going to have to start thinking about Snape as his lover. He almost choked on his cocoa, got a strange look from Hermione, and suddenly wanted to tell Draco. He could ask Draco if there was some way he could bring it up with Snape or if they should maybe be at least call each other by their first names now, after everything, but it was well after curfew and he couldn't really break into Draco's bedroom in the middle of the night. That really would confuse things.

The next day, Potions seemed even worse. Harry was embarrassed and self-conscious and kept dropping things, and in the end Snape abandoned the silent treatment and just growled at him in disgust. Strangely, that seemed to make things better, and Harry managed to make it through the rest of the class without any spectacular mistakes. By evening he'd had enough of everything, though, and skived off to the library before anyone could try and convince him to give the Etiquette class another try. Lavender and Pavarti had persuaded Hermione to go tonight, and Lavender had been making sly comments about Harry's difficulties at the Malfoy party. Harry couldn't remember any problems that being instructed in table manners by Sangermano would have helped, but quite a lot of that evening was rather fuzzy. Hermione was sure to try and get him to come along anyway, so he escaped.

After dark the best place to find quiet was the archives room where he and Draco used to meet - which seemed like ages ago now. He knew it was locked some of the time because desperate to be alone once he'd told Seamus it was a good place to take a girl, and the hapless couple had to be rescued by Filch after being cornered by some library books while trying to get the door open. But it always opened for Harry. Near the corner where the archives where concealed he saw Draco, standing with his hand on a chair, attentive to something going on behind a bookcase. Smiling, Harry was half way to Draco before he felt any embarrassment at the way his stomach leapt when he saw Draco being utterly poised in a library. It was probably really inappropriate, given the commitments he'd sort of almost in some way been making to Snape, but Snape knew he and Draco were friends. And they were, Harry thought, with some kind of certainty for the first time; they were friends.

Harry paused and lowered the smile a little when he saw who Draco was with. Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy Parkinson, and a younger Slytherin girl were sitting around the library table. Pansy was narrating something apparently amusing, and Draco threw his head back and laughed. Harry blushed at the white line of Draco's neck and looked away.

"Hello Harry," Blaise said, and Harry looked back to catch them all turning to him. Draco gave him a strange cool look, or rather a familiar cool look he hadn't seen in a while.

"Yes, hello Harry," Crabbe said. Goyle thumped him in the side and darted his eyes in Draco's direction.

Harry decided to ignore them. "Hi Blaise, Draco," he said, but that seemed really rude so he added, "everyone."

Draco raised both eyebrows in that all too familiar way and turned to lean on the table, obviously joining the others in amusement. "What can we do for you, Potter?"

Harry knew there were lots of reasons why Draco might want to avoid talking to Harry in front of his Slytherin classmates, even though it was a bit disappointing. "Oh, nothing," he said, calmly enough. "Just passing and thought I'd say hello."

Turning away, he heard Goyle say he was crazy, faintly heard one of the girls whispering, and heard Draco distinctly say, "Why on earth would I know - and why would I want to know?" There was laughter, and while Harry really wanted to be much further away he ducked behind the bookcase and into the archive room, closing the door.

* * *

When he'd finished the copy of Quidditch Monthly someone had left on the table Harry figured the Slytherins would be gone wherever Slytherins went while almost everyone else learned about Etiquette. He really didn't want to be part of Draco's games, however necessary they probably were. He ruffled the magazine's last pages a few more times. Hugh Enderby, the new star Chaser for the Cannons waved amiably at him from the back cover, gesturing encouragingly to his glass of Fortescue's Frothing Delight. Harry didn't think the advertised product would help. No doubt there would be a reason - Draco did everything for a reason. Including make friends with him, of course, and that was the catch.

The door clicked open, and he knew who it was without looking up. Something inside him unclenched in relief.

"The noble Gryffindors dump you again?" Draco said, closing the door behind him.

"Just couldn't stand to watch your ex primping and flirting," Harry replied, but he could see Draco was upset. He had that tense aura about him, like he was holding and watching every single muscle in his body, and that made Harry tense as well. Draco's moods were all catching that way.

"You could tell him you were walking proof that primping and social graces were unnecessary," Draco said, looking at him sidelong. "Although I think you've got flirting down to a subtle art - the naïve virgin thing really works for you."

"What?"

Draco crossed the room towards him, all smirk and slide, and Harry was truly confused, and upset enough to get to his feet. "What's going on, Draco? What happened?"

Draco leant against the table next to him, and Harry remembered he'd been kissed here once, by this boy, just like this, but not while being coldly sneered at.

"What happened? I suppose it really isn't much of an event for you - just the next example of how everything works out for the great Harry Potter eventually." Realisation hit Harry somewhere above his stomach, and he couldn't breathe. "Oh look," Draco said with a bitter smile, "he gets it. Wonderful. I'm so glad I didn't have to draw you pictures - that would be embarrassing."

"Draco." Harry really didn't know what came next, but Draco's expression was demanding. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry." A blank look that was still obviously furious swept over Draco's face and was gone, replaced by a sardonic smile again. "The fact that you know is bad enough, but that you can act like you care about it and then run right down and fuck him." Leaning slightly forward, Draco said the last words with emphasis through clenched teeth. "What the hell kind of Gryffindor are you, anyway?"

Harry turned his face away, but he said quietly, "Hypocrite."

"What?" Draco whispered harshly.

"Like you haven't always been trying to make me do what you want, what suits you, without thinking about how I feel."

"Oh yes, because you endlessly telling me how confused you are makes how you feel so clear. One minute you're gagging for Snape and the next you're kissing me, looking at me like I'm the only thing you can think about. Fuck, you did it again just now out there, in front of everyone."

Draco's voice was raised, his face flushed and full of something bleak and breathless. But it was all a front. Harry knew it. "Don't worry, Draco," Harry said angrily, "I'm actually not torn at all." He moved away, still with his eyes on Draco, and said distinctly, "You wouldn't be worth the risk."

Harry left in a hurry, before anything more could be said, almost blindly rushing through the library, down the stairs, and across the hall, ignoring everyone in his path.

* * *

Draco had stayed in the library, avoiding the Slytherins and everyone else. He'd walked in the upper corridors watching people skulk, stalk and furtively giggle well after curfew. He'd seen Filch doing his rounds – once he watched him pass muttering in the darkness, and a second time he saw him at a distance, stroking his mangy old cat with affection. Draco watched that for a while. Some time later Draco saw Snape sweep into a stairway; he turned and went the other way.

Draco carefully unlatched the door to Lupin's quarters and slipped quietly through. Once inside, he paused with his hand on the door and, after a few slow breaths, slammed it behind him.

He waited till Remus came into the parlour.

"Draco?" Remus wore a long white shirt and his hair was ruffled as if he'd pulled himself out of bed.

Draco just looked at him.

"Draco, what is it?"

Draco walked into the room past Lupin with only a glance. "I'm going to choose you." Before Remus could say anything he said, "But I'm not just going to be your apprentice and hang around Hogwarts and generally fail to be evil. I'm still me."

"I don't expect you to be anyone else," Remus said.

"And what do you expect, then?" When he didn't reply Draco came back towards him. "I need to believe you are on my side."

"I said I was your friend. I meant it."

"In a Gryffindor way," Draco said bitterly, "which means as long as I'm obviously on the right side. I want more."

"You don't know me well enough to judge what I mean by friendship, Draco."

"You're more complicated than you look," Draco conceded. "So let's go to bed, Remus; I want us to fuck. Tonight. Now."

Remus kept his eyes on Draco for a moment, without blinking, and then turned away. Draco tensed a little.

"Why Draco?" Remus said, walking to the window, circling the table by which Draco stood. "Certainly not because you need to know me; or because it will convince you I'm on your side."

"I know you want it."

"Perhaps," Remus said. "But why exactly would I act on it? What would I have to gain?"

"Isn't this what you've been asking me for?" Draco said, crossing the room slowly. "An opening?"

Remus waited, leaning against the wall next to the window and watching him come closer. Draco pressed his hand flat against Remus's chest, sliding it slowly across the still bed-warm cloth up toward his shoulder. "This is an opening."

Remus didn't move. Not forward, not to touch him, and not away either. "What kind of opening, Draco?"

Draco stepped away to the other side of the window, looking out across the barely visible grounds towards the forest. Something dark shifted out there. It was always a matter of what you had to give in order to get what you need.

"I'm in love with Severus," Draco said, without anger, but his hands were tightly clenched till he could feel the sting of his nails in the flesh.

He felt Remus's hand very tentatively touch his arm. He heard him say, "I'm sorry."

"Everyone's sorry," Draco said with soft bitterness, still watching the dark move against the dark, waiting as always for some slightly safer way to become clear.

Remus stepped closer, he could feel the heat and the intense observation. The hand on Draco's arm moved to become a loose arm around his back.

"Severus doesn't want me and. . . I'm not safe. That leaves you, or him." He didn't bother to elaborate, but "him" was accompanied by an almost indiscernible nod to the dark grounds. Draco turned to look at Remus then; the werewolf's eyes were both hot and cautious. Draco carefully returned his hand to Remus's shoulder. "Don't you want to save me from the forces of darkness?"

"I very much doubt that I can."

Draco smiled as if that was an immense compliment. "Then don't you want to save me from myself; from what eats at me inside?"

"There's even less hope of me doing that Draco," Remus said, but he returned the smile, and put a hand to Draco's elbow, as if to steady him as the boy ran his hand as far as Remus's stomach and curled across it.

Draco laughed; or at least it was something like a laugh. "Then don't you want to bind me to the forces of light?"

Remus shifted his hand from Draco's elbow to the small of his back. He leant forward a little, breathing in, as if tasting the air Draco moved through.

"Not exactly," he said eventually, "but I might want to feel for you." Draco went to step away again but Remus blocked his way. "I might want to warm you," he added.

"I don't want those things," Draco said sharply.

Leaning closer, Remus breathed against his hair. "I might want to taste you while you come in my arms." He mouth brushed the side of Draco's face almost but not quite in a kiss. "But it's a very bad idea."

"It can't make anything worse."

"Perhaps not for you," Remus said, still against his skin, "but for me?" He put his other hand to the back of Draco's head, pressing the stiff strands up and in. "You overwhelm everything, Draco; it's your way. And my everything would never be nearly enough."

Draco exhaled with something like frustration and turned to wrap his arms around Remus, drawing in the warmth and the apparent calm. "Then sacrifice yourself for a noble cause, Gryffindor," he said.

"I'm not quite that easy to play," Remus said, and perhaps he was smiling again.

"Then do it for fun, Remus, or because you have to. Let me see if there's really any wolf there." Remus drew Draco's head away, but there was intensity in his open assessing look, and Draco felt like he'd won something.

* * *

Draco had been in Remus's room during the full moons, but it looked different now. The furniture from the low long bed to the telescope was the same, but there were books scattered in uneven piles and clothes hung over chests and chairs.

"Charming," Draco said, "you could have cleaned up."

"I thought we were being more open with each other."

"You don't have to make it sound so. . . Hufflepuff." Remus laughed and Draco shrugged off the odd nervousness.

Remus gestured and the candles were extinguished. A faint new moon shone through one partly uncovered window. With one step, Remus took Draco's hand, with another, he pressed his hand against Draco's shoulder, manouevring him to the wall. "What do you know about werewolves, Draco?"

With a sarcastic huff Draco leant back against the wall and said, "Is this one of those 'just remember you belong to me now' speeches? Because I'm only eighteen and I've already heard two of those."

Remus seemed completely unfazed. "Let me see if there's any wolf there, you said – do you think I'm a wolf right now?"

Draco shifted against the surprisingly strong pressure of Remus's hand. "Are we going to spend all night talking about why I want to do this, or are you actually going to do something?"

"Are you yearning for some Gryffindor spontaneity, Draco?" Remus said, and with a flash of anger Draco really did try to pull away and Remus kissed him, looping an arm around his neck, firmly holding his other shoulder in an encompassing embrace. He felt almost entirely off-balance when Remus stopped. "Or do you only play with monsters?"

Angrily, Draco kissed him back. Remus put both hands to Draco's face, slowing the kiss and drawing it out. Eventually Draco let the heat and the slow wet rhythm draw him closer into Remus's body. He was hardening under the press and stroke of the kiss, and anger and fear and excitement had his skin jumping where Remus touched it.

Hands were searching for the buttons on his robe before Draco broke away to gasp in a breath. As Remus began to unfasten the robe, beginning at his waist, Draco caught up a fold of Remus's shirt and brushed his hand across a naked thigh. With a sharp breath, Remus stepped back and pulled Draco's robe away, not bothering with the last buttons, which came free with the sharp sound of tearing silk.

There was a rush of lips and tongue and hands as Draco was guided to the bed. Remus was all shadow-edged; the dim light picked out the slight wave of his hair, the pale line of his shoulder, his eyes as he moved over Draco and caught his gaze despite the darkness.

"Don't," Draco said, a little more urgently than he wanted, "Don't talk now."

Remus's thin soft fingers glanced against Draco's stomach and hip and stroked around his cock. Draco had to move into the touch and had to make that noise and he threw his arms around Remus's neck. He pushed into the kiss hard, and Remus kissed him back just as fiercely, fisting Draco's cock between them. Draco thrust with the kiss and the caress until he could feel those urgent rushing shivers hurtling in from his fingers and toes and through his hair and he wrenched his head back and reached down to circle Remus's cock loosely, running all five fingers around and along it, smiling at the pulse and throb and the sticky heat where it fell against his thighs.

"Fuck me now," he said, and Remus growled, not in his throat but in his chest, tightened his hold on Draco and pushed down and along Draco's body, his mouth on Draco's neck with hot wet need. At the first sting of teeth Draco tensed, and the fingers on his cock tightened and were suddenly pumping him hard as Draco came, breathing into the dark.

Arms drew him up, and only a small part of his mind fought the relaxed pliability. It was Remus Lupin, after all. As he was turned in the bed Remus said, "Yes I've wanted you and this. But don't underestimate me Draco." Wet sticky fingers were at his arse, two fingertips sliding in and around, efficiently stretching him to be entered there and he shivered and pushed back and when it stung he didn't care. "I feel for you Draco," Remus said in his ear as the fingers sharply twisted further in and Draco bit his lip at the burn which was almost but not quite pleasurable. "I want things for you" – another finger and the arm beneath him forced him to his knees and the fingers turned and slipped and stung – "against all common sense." With a twist and a thrust he was opened further and it was too fast not to hurt but that was good and Draco was breathing hard. "But I won't let you destroy me," Remus whispered in his ear, "even if it means I have to save you."

The fingers were gone and Draco knew he wasn't really ready for what came next. He tried not to tense as he felt Remus shifting behind him. Then the soft mouth was back at his ear saying his name and the cock was shockingly slick as it pushed and slid into him, with nothing worse than a dull burn and overwhelming fullness, but sickening and thrilling as always.

* * *

The boy turned in the bed, perhaps a little stiffly, but carefully not disturbing the covers. Remus could just sense the dawn arriving, and perhaps the light coming through the open curtains was even a little brighter – everything was always a little dull in this phase of the moon. Since they'd finally fallen back against the pillows Draco had barely moved, but now he lifted the far side of the covers carefully.

"Draco?" Remus said, putting a hand to the boy's shoulder. His hand was so dark against the boy's whiteness, so weathered in comparison, he could see that contrast even in this light. But he'd been through that in his head and with Albus many times. If it was this or Voldemort for the boy, better this; no matter how deeply wrong it sometimes seemed or how gravely he doubted his own motives. 

"Draco?" he tried again, when the boy hadn't moved and hadn't spoken and right now he could just sense wariness, even fear, though he didn't need any inhuman abilities to know that. Remus pulled himself up on one arm and, faced with such an obvious approach Draco finally turned to look at him. His face was still, pale to blue in the almost light, his eyes tense and shadowed. Remus forced himself to smile as warmly as he could.

"It would be very rude to slip out without saying goodbye."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm fairly sure the etiquette for illicit one night stands allows for slipping out before morning."

"True, but when you take a new lover it's expected that you'll make a little awkward conversation the morning after."

Draco didn't reply, but his arch smile covered something cautious, tense, and utterly unlike the boy who writhed on his cock and stuttered and shook as he came. Remus felt his prick warm and twitch at that recollection. Draco relaxed a little, and let his hand come up to rest at the edge of Remus's pillow. His fingers were white and delicate.

"Aren't you a little old to be wanting another round so soon?" Draco said, relaxing into the smile a little more.

To his own chagrin Remus only just staved off a blush. "It could be the werewolf."

"Really?"

"No," Remus smiled.

With a tiny nervous flick of his fingers on the pillow Draco said, "I should go."

"Stay; at least till after breakfast."

Draco hesitated, though Remus couldn't tell what conflicted with his interests or his expectations. "I'm not sure. . ." he began, clearly avoiding Remus's eyes.

"Just like this," Remus said, sliding an arm underneath Draco's shoulders and gathering him in against Remus's chest. "And now you sleep until I wake you with food, which I might add you consume in huge quantities for someone as thin as you are."

Draco gave Remus an incredulous look, but Remus closed his eyes and wrapped himself around Draco, both arms and one leg, his mouth in his hair and his breath falling down over his neck.

The boy didn't sleep, but he drifted close to it. Remus listened to his breathing and the beating of his heart above the sounds of Hogwarts waking up, and tried to imagine the difference of today compared to yesterday.