Consequences

His head hurt.

And by his side in his bed, with his back turned to him, lay another man.

Severus – the unique herbal musk would have belayed him, even if Remus hadn't been a werewolf. And if not that, then his long, ebony black hair, cascading down his back, which was of a very pale white.

Ever so carefully, he moved his hand, so he could pinch himself – which hurt, therefor proving what was going on wasn't a strange variation of one of his recurring dreams, played backwards, but reality.

Remus considered his current situation – he was in bed, with a naked Severus – and rather naked himself, he realised, feeling the satin sheets against his skin, much softer than any of his clothes...

Hold on...

Satin sheets? He didn't own satin sheets.

Realisation began to dawn in him – so far, he had assumed they were in his quarters, but...

Gingerly raising his head, he surveyed the place – a dark place, furniture with heavy dark oak, overflowing bookcases covering all the walls, green hangings both in the windows as in the four-poster canopy bed they were currently laying in.

Maybe he hadn't been to his rooms yet, but he was fairly sure they weren't quite so... Slytherinish.

Which meant they had either invaded someone's quarters – something he found quite improbable, considering it was, by the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room, almost ten already and nobody had "found" them – or they were in Severus private chambers.

And that, considering Severus utter – though no longer so unjustified, he realised – paranoia, meant that even if he had the guts to try, he wouldn't be able to leave, since Severus had probably warded the place with every spell known to mankind and then some.

Not that he had to mind that – after all, he was apprehensible at even moving, let alone standing up and walking towards the door...

Never mind they were both supposed to be teaching classes at that precise moment – he was not going to be the one to wake Severus up.

He quietly and slowly turned in bed, so his back would be turned to Severus – the sight of the other man's long black hair, broad shoulders and narrow waist were disrupting his thoughts – and decided to do what he should've been doing for the past half-hour, since he found himself in bed with another man, with no recollection of getting there.

He tried to remember what the hell had happened the previous night.

There had been the start of term feast and then the private one, for the teachers and some members of the Order, to celebrate the first term of Hogwarts in years to be started in times of peace.

He had had more to drink than he should, he knew – but how could he not, what with Sirius – who though a drunken Remus was one of the funniest things there was – around, spiking his almost non-alcoholic drinks with tasteless Firewhisky, courtesy of the Weasley Twins.

Someone was really ought to teach those pranksters a lesson...

But, then again, it was fairly improbable that Sirius had anything to do with his current sleeping arrangements.

Unless...

He cursed himself mentally for about the hundredth time for not remembering what, exactly, he had told Sirius that night, right after Voldemort returned, when both had got magnificently pissed. He had a faint recollection of mentioning his feelings for the other ebony hared man to his best friend, but he couldn't quite tell whether it was real or just a dream.

After all, though five years back he would've called anyone who said Sirius might try to fix him and Severus up a nut-job, it was surprisingly more plausible that Sirius'd do that now.

They still didn't quite like each other, of course, but after Severus's efforts to rescue Sirius from the oblivion of the Realm of the Dead, behind the veil, and back into the world of the living, a certain unspoken truce had brewed between the two man – Sirius, out of gratitude, Severus, out of respect for everything Sirius had endured.

Not to mention that, since the incident between Sirius, Severus, and himself in their fifth year, when Sirius had not only destroyed Remus relationship, but also got him in trouble with the ministry, Sirius had became very keen on making Remus happy...

His thoughts were interrupted at that point by a soft rustle of cloth behind him and a strong arm embracing him from behind, as if taking claim on his body, Severus pulling Remus closer to himself.

"Remus..." came Severus voice from behind him, a very low murmur.

He felt himself tense all over at the sound; that was it, it was time to deal with his actions – drunken actions, yes, but his nonetheless – any time now Severus would jump away from him, ask what he was doing there...

Only he didn't. The man was still sound asleep, Remus realised.

Finally allowing himself to release the breath he had been unconsciously holding, he found himself untensing at the heat of the slender body behind him.

It was rather comfortable, he had to say, Severus body against his own.

His skin was soft, though he could feel strong muscles under it, and surprisingly warm.

Acting more bravely than he felt, Remus took Severus hand, which was now dispersed over Remus chest, in his own.

Severus hands were beautiful. Slightly bigger than his own, a few shades paler, the fingers long and slim, slightly long nails, but fitting, topping each of them, all potions stained as Severus had never had patience for gloves.

The hands of an artist, that's for sure. He had seen, once or twice when they were younger, Severus draw. He had talent for it, though his strong sense of auto-critics and perfectionist nature often drove him to destroying everything he as much as sketched.

He briefly wondered whether Severus played any instrument – the piano, or perhaps a violin – before he unperceivingly drifted off back to sleep, wrapped by the warmth and comfort the other man's body provided him.

The instant Severus woke he realised there was someone in his arms. And he didn't even need to open his eyes to know it was Remus, even if he had no idea how he had come to be there.

He remembered all the other times he had had that body in his arms – they were mere youngsters at the time, 15, 16 years of age, but he remembered every detail... From the friendly hugs, to the two 'incidents' that 'had to be forgotten', Remus too innocent, too prejudiced, too muggle, despite his magical nature, to realise what he really felt – and then that one, perfect kiss when he finally came to his senses, only one before everything came down hill...

He felt a shiver go down his spine, despite the warmth of Remus near him – he had loved Remus back then, he truly had, but his upbringing hadn't been able to deal with the discovery of Remus true nature.

Not that it had any effect whatsoever in him now – the years of working alongside with the werewolf in the Order had forced him – even if against his will in the beginning – to learn how to put his grudges and prejudices aside and be civil. It hadn't been the easiest of process, but, with time, it allowed him to once more get to know Remus.

It allowed him, most importantly, to fully understand Remus condition – something he had to do, in order to develop the improved version of Wolfsbane Potion Remus now used.

He had understood what he hadn't been able to in his school years – that what some called 'the Wolf', the force that drove werewolves in the full, was not an demoniac, animal force, but the an primordial essence every man possessed, only that unleashed, uncontrolled by moral and conscience.

Furthermore, he had learned it was something could not ever control without Wolfsbane potion; something Remus had only now began to accept within himself.

Something he had suffered endless amounts for, even if he never said so, a good par of it because of Severus's own bigotry.

He tried to move his hand to touch a very visible scar on Remus shoulder, prove of said suffering, when he realised that it was being firmly held by Remus, a wave of unusual tenderness washing over him.

He comprehended that Remus must have, at some point, woken up and then gone back to sleep, taking his hand in his during that stage.

For he knew that otherwise they wouldn't find themselves in such position. His sleep was very troubled – he'd not only wake several times during the night – something that miraculously hadn't happened that night – but also turn frequently in bed, which would cause him to, at some point, yank his hand away from the werewolf's if they had fallen asleep in such manner.

So, Remus had woken up. He had seen them they way they were – he had realised, Severus was fairly sure, what he was slowly starting to remember – what had happened the previous night. And he had done nothing, just got back to sleep?

It made no sense – they both had classes to teach, things they supposed to be doing. Why hadn't Remus woken him?

He considering waking Remus – but even before he as much as moved to do so, he found he didn't want to. Remus, normally so weary looking, seamed just so rested, at peace in his arms, a small smile playing around his lips, the sheer image of contentment.

As he observed that smile, that showed just the very tip of his wolfish fangs, normally well hidden, he felt the urge of rousing Remus up once more, but this time for a completely different reason.

He wanted to have Remus lips on his again, he wanted to tell him that he loved him – he couldn't help it, for Remus was now, even if asleep, so beautiful, so sensual.

For Remus sensuality, unlike most people's, like Black's, or even Draco's, was in a gesture he'd make – hair falling over his eyes, the raise of a inquiring brow, a smile, a look – it was in the small things and he found it more inciting than any other, that suave, subtle form of sensuality.

Barely realising what he was doing, he bent slightly forward and kissed Remus lightly on the lips.

He was surprised by his own behaviour, but the shock did not match the one he received when Remus kissed him back, softly and gently, turning without breaking contact and draping his arms around Severus.

Neither wanted to ever let go, but the unstoppable realisation that though dull, air was something rather vital came and both parted, even if ever the so slightly, panting as they did so.

"Hey." Remus said, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes fixed on Severus's.

"Hey."

Sirius walked furiously towards the dungeons. Really, he didn't mind teaching his own class, even if he had The Hangover from Hell, but covering for Snape and Remus was too much.

It was just plainly abusive of Minerva to ask from him to give four first classes to four different classes of exited – and very laud – first years.

Besides, he knew how much Snape loved to traumatise the poor bastards for life on their first day out of seven years of school.

Hence why he was currently on his way to the dungeons – he also had to wake Remus up, but he simply hadn't been able to find the werewolf in his quarters or anywhere else.

Not that he was very eager to find him just yet – he had had experiences with trying to get the sleep-deprived werewolf out of bed and he knew the good humour that waking Snape up would provide would be helpful.

Slowing his pace a little, he tried to figure out what the hell had happened to Remus – the last thing he remembered before his ever the so beloved Ginny took him to a dark corner and into the snog of a lifetime had been Remus, royally smashed, talking to Snape.

At that, he stopped short, just as he reached the corridor that led to Snape's private chambers.

The two men had been, if memory served him right, very close to one another when he last saw them. A little too close, in fact.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered out laud, causing a sixteen-year-old girl nearby him, who wore a shiny Ravenclaw prefect badge, to look disapproving at him.

Alright, let's not jump to conclusions here, he told himself.

Fact – Snape had wanted in Remus pants ever since they were old enough to want such thing.

Fact – Remus had been abnormally close friends with Snape when they were in their teens, though he had only found about it lather.

Fact – Remus did eventually get wishful eyed towards Snape, when he thought no one was looking.

Fact – They had both disappeared at the exact same time, after been last seen together, both drunken and closer than it would be acceptable in public.

Not to mention the things Remus had said that time when they had been drunk and Remus began to share his feelings...

Oh, bloody hell.

He was sure of one thing – he was not, by any means, no matter what, going to enter that room. Not even under the hovering treat of being fired made by an also hangover MacGonagal.

He could, perhaps, live without a job – seeing the two of them together, quite possibly naked, was something else.

Shuddering at the thought, he turned to go to the Healer's office – he needed Ginny.

Remus looked carefully down the two sides of the corridor before exiting Severus's room. He didn't want to leave – and there wasn't a point to it, really, what with the classes already being over – but he knew he had to find his quarters at some point, as well as go and apologise to Dumbledore for not teaching the day's classes, just as Severus would be doing in the upcoming minutes.

The thought of Severus filled him with warmth. They had spent the last hours talking, making love and love promises and Remus had not been that happy in years.

He was so content he was barely aware of his surroundings, only noticing the presence of another person when he walked into him.

"Remus!" exclaimed Sirius, as he realised who had almost ran him over as he picked up the books he had dropped on the floor.

"Oh, err... hi, Sirius." Remus could feel his neck warming up – he could just tell that, somehow, Sirius knew very well what he had been doing the last few hours.

"So... wanna come in for a cup of tea?" Sirius offered, motioning the door to his quarters with his head as he continued to pick up the books he had dropped. Remus nodded – he had no idea where his own quarters where, after all, and, let alone a quick lunch with – off – Severus, he had barely eaten and was positively starved.

"I had to cover your classes for you, y'know" Sirius said, accusingly, as he opened the door and moved towards the small kitchen, wondering how to bring up Remus recent... involvement. He wanted to his friend he was OK with it, but it wasn't a particularly easy topic to approach. "Yours and Severus's." he tried, not looking at his friend.

"Ah." His ears had gone red, he knew. "Thanks."

"Here." He handed Remus cup of tea and placed a tray with scones on the table. "You're probably starving, aren't you." His whole face was red now and he began to wonder whether starving wouldn't have been a better option.

"Why would you say that?"

"Remus, I know where you were." He wasn't looking at Remus directly, and was about as red as the werewolf.

"Listen, Sirius, I..."

"It's OK." he hurried to said, when he realised Remus was about to start apologising. "I don't mind, if it makes you happy."

"Really?"

"Yeah – and I'll punch the wits out of him if he hurts you, you can tell him that."

"You do realise, though we live in a school, we are no longer teenagers, but adults – teachers at that – and such behaviour would be unacceptable?" Sirius waved a dismissive hand, rolling his eyes "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem – besides, the look on Harry's face when I tell him will pay it off" he said, smiling wickedly.

"Oh, Sirius...-"

"Sorry, Moo, but it's too priceless not to be done." Remus scowled lightly and both sipped their cups of tea silently before Remus spoke;

"So, tell me, Sirius, how's Ginny doing?" he asked, smiling slightly into his cup of tea and causing Sirius choke violently in his tea.

"How do you know?" he asked, looking surprised at Remus.

"I can smell you two all over each other." Remus said, calmly "Wonder what Molly'd fell about this."

"Please, Moo, you can't tell her – she'd bloody castrate me!"

"Alright – on one condition."

"Whatever you ask, mate."

"You won't tell anyone about Severus either." Sirius looked highly disappointed, but relieved at the same time.

"Deal – can I just tell Gin? I mean, she'd figure out all the same – which really is to say she'd get it out of me without breaking a sweat."

"Really?" he asked, raising his brows at the crimson Sirius "Last person who had that ability was..." he creased his brow "Nobody, actually. I don't remember a single person who had such power over you."

"Maybe because she's the first." He was looking into his cup of tea, smiling "I love her, Moo. I really do." Remus stared unblinkingly at his long-term friend. He had never, not once in several years – and several lovers on Sirius part – heard him say that.

"Uau." was all he could say.

"Yeah." Answered Sirius "First time I fell this way – really fell it, y'know, not just some infatuation but... the real thing, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do." he answered, absently, thinking of another dark-hared man, not far from where he was. Smiling despite himself, he took another sip from his tea.