Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: Slash, get over it, or get out.

One-Night Stand

Part Three

Golden-brown eyes stared into the mirror, boring into their reflection.

What is happening to me? Remus wondered desperately. He was pale and shaken from The Dream. It was haunting him. He'd had it five nights in a row, now: every night since That Night. Always the same. And he always woke up searching… searching… searching for something. He did not know what.

There were soft footsteps behind him, and Sirius's reflection appeared beside his own.

"Tell me?" the dark-haired boy asked.

Remus turned his gaze from his own reflection to his friend's.

Sirius stood slightly behind him, hair mussed and slightly bleary-eyed from sleep, clad only in a loose pair of sweatpants and a slightly worried expression. Remus wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean back against the taller boy, and his body swayed slightly even as his mind ordered it to stay upright.

Sirius placed a hand on one of Remus's shoulders, steadying him. Remus could feel the heat of the older boy's palm through the thin fabric of his tee-shirt, and he thrilled to the touch. The lethargy that had been permeating his entire being for the past five days seemed to vanish, but then Sirius pulled back as though he'd been stung, and the heavy, inexplicable weariness returned.

"I'm fine," Remus managed insist, though his voice was no more than a murmur.

"You're not fine!"

Remus flinched at the other boy's vehemence.

Sirius bit his lip and looked down at his toes. "Look, I think…" he chewed his lip for a moment. If his eyes hadn't been fixed on the ground, he would have seen the golden-brown stare riveted on his mouth as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "I think," he began again, still focusing on his feet, "I think we need to talk."

"Talk?" I thought we were going to pretend it never happened.

"About That Night," Sirius clarified needlessly, not looking up.

"You said we should pretend nothing happened," Remus reminded him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the other boy's face instead of traveling across the tan, toned torso as they were so eager to do. It was easier to focus on the direction of his gaze than on the knife driving into his chest as he spoke.

"Remus, we… we had…" he trailed off.

"Sex." Remus heard the dull sound of his own voice, and wondered again why he felt half dead.

A slight pink tinge crept into Sirius's cheeks. "Well, yes."

"You said we were drunk." Remus's voice was devoid of any hint of his inner turmoil. "You said to forget it."

"Well, yes," Sirius said again.

"You said we should pretend nothing happened," Remus repeated, and somehow found the strength to push past the older boy, and out of the bathroom.

– – – – –

The library was silent. The phrase 'like a grave' echoed in Remus's head as he sat in his usual window seat in the back of his sanctuary. The phrase struck him as morbidly apt; after all, he buried himself here often enough, it was what he was doing now, burying himself in the silent library. Like a grave. Bury the dead.

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the driving snow. All he could see was white. The color of death.

His book was heavy in his lap: a book of chess strategies. He'd been wanting to read it for ages, and now that he had the time, he'd lost interest.

The grey-white light from the windows seemed surreal.

Remus stared down at his open book for a long moment, not really seeing it, then turned back to the window.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there. The change in the light was barely noticeable, merely becoming more grey than white as the afternoon progressed.

Remus knew his dorm-mate was nearby moments before the other boy appeared around the bookcases. Strange. It was more like he'd felt his friend's approach than heard it. But that didn't make any sense. He must just not have realized he'd heard the other's footsteps.

"I knew you'd be here," Sirius said without preamble. His voice echoed almost eerily in the stillness.

Remus forced himself to look away from the dark-haired boy, back towards the grey window. "I'm always here," he agreed. Even his voice sounded dead.

"Well, yes, but…"

Something in Sirius's voice made Remus turn back to face the grey-eyed boy. "But?" he prompted.

"Nothing," Sirius muttered, looking down at the ground.

Remus waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. After a moment, he turned back to the weather.

"Did you want to go to dinner?" Sirius asked at last. "It's getting late."

"Sure," Remus closed his book and stood. He wasn't particularly, but he knew he should eat. "You should have gone earlier without me if you were hungry."

"I wasn't particularly hungry earlier," Sirius admitted, leading the way out of the dim library.

Sirius, not hungry? Sirius was always hungry. It was as though the world had been turned on its head.

Lost in his thoughts, unsure why everything was so cockeyed, Remus didn't realize Sirius had stopped walking until he crashed into the taller boy. He dropped his book, which fell open to the ground.

"Sorry," both boys said at the same time.

Remus bent down to pick up his book. "Why'd you stop?" he asked.

"I need to talk to you…" Sirius began, but Remus wasn't paying attention.

The younger boy was staring, riveted, at the book, hand still outstretched to retrieve it.

The book had opened to the first page of chapter thirteen: "Checking and Mating."

"Rem? Are you okay?"

All at once, something clicked.

With a sudden burst of energy, Remus took off back the way they'd come, abandoning the book on the ground. He pounded down the hallways and around corners, exploding into the library mere seconds later. He skidded to a halt in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, scanning the reference labels on the ends of the shelves before darting down a row dedicated to dark creatures.

Heart pounding, Remus stopped near the end of the row, staring up at the tall case of books dedicated to the study of lycanthropy. He hadn't looked at these books in years.

He took a deep breath, reached out, and pulled down a heavy, leather-bound tome. In the year following the revelation of his secret to his friends, Remus had spent a great deal of time reading about werewolves. He'd been too afraid to do it before, but once they knew – once he was sure he wouldn't lose them – he'd tried to find out everything he could about his curse. This had been one of his favorite books at the time.

He sat on the floor, and carefully opened the book, skimming the contents, searching… searching…

Chapter forty-seven: "Mating Habits of Werewolves."

He stared at the title for a long minute. He remembered skipping this chapter back in second year, completely uninterested – at the age of twelve – in 'mating habits.' Now he flipped to the page listed, and began to read.

TBC

A/N: What's with the shortness of chapters? I'm sorry about that, it just seems to be happening. But, hey, I updated, didn't I? With all the work I have to do, that's a miracle in and of itself. I'm still struggling with ToTP and HLtW, and another fic I just started (but have yet to post as of this moment) called "Right Kind of Wrong." It's AU, which I've never done for HP before. The first installment should be up soon. Anyway, please review!