Title: Concertina
Author name: Desolate Butterfly
Category: Drama
Sub Category: Um…I dunno, Creepy Pervertedness?
Rating: T
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP
Summary: Remus Lupin desires something that he shouldn't.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: This is one-sided RL/DM and a bit pervy so don't say I didn't warn you.

I swear, you're the fiercest calm I've been in…

- Tori Amos

Concertina

Lupin knows it's wrong. He doesn't even look a thing like Sirius.

After all, his hair is straight and white-blond while Sirius had such dark, wavy locks. His eyes are slate grey, while Sirius' were blue. And certainly, Sirius had never looked at Lupin with such blatant disgust, though that smug little sneer seems strangely familiar…

Perhaps that was how Sirius looked at Snape and Lupin remembers that look—those mocking lips, that twisted mouth.

But this boy is definitely not Sirius. Not with those white, graceful hands and those soft, untouched lips. And the fear—Lupin can smell it all over him—whenever he's around. The scent is pungent, enticing. The boy is simply terrified of him, and yet he keeps it hidden so well that nothing but hatred and disdain shines through those cold grey eyes. Such discipline…Lupin wonders if Snape had taught him that.

Perhaps not.

Snape had never been especially adept at hiding his own fear of Lupin. It dripped in his every word.

But this boy manages to hold himself so tightly, to exercise such control that only that sweet, overpowering smell gives him away.

Lupin wonders how delicious the boy would look if that control should break and then feels guilty about having such thoughts. He's only ever seen Sirius like that; sweetly broken and undone in his arms, and that was right somehow—but this…

Lupin knows it's wrong. And that's why in the classroom he ignores the tantalizing scent of prey that flares his nostrils. He ignores the way the pert mouth laughs at the destruction those lily-white hands have caused to a fellow classmate. He ignores the challenge those rebellious grey eyes issue as he lays down his edict:

"Draco Malfoy, detention for improper use of an advanced curse in my classroom. Report to Filch's office at seven o'clock tonight."

But as he lays a hand on a thin, bony shoulder, just to dissuade the wand from lifting a second time, Lupin feels it—a shudder so slight that it is almost imperceptible. The boy trembles under his hand and Lupin feels the beast inside him stir and respond to the sensation.

"On second thought, I'll be administering your punishment myself. Please stay after class Mister Malfoy."

His hand tightens slightly on the boy's shoulder before he releases it. He knows he's probably marked the boy and he's glad about the possibility of finger-shaped bruises marring that pale skin.

Lupin knows there's no hiding it now. He is too delicate and it is too late.

Finis.