Chapter 2

Harry awoke with a start when the monitoring spell he had placed on the stranger went off. He hadn't bothered to undress the night before and he figured it was for the best as he pocketed his wand and headed to the guestroom rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He entered the room to find the man crawling towards the door and muttering to himself. The man looked up and Harry paused at look of fear in his eyes. Harry slowly raised both hands in front of him to show the stranger he was unarmed.

"It's okay. I just want to help you. I found you outside last night. My friend and I fixed you up, but you need to rest." Harry said in the calmest voice he could summon under the circumstances.

"You need to get back in bed before you hurt yourself. Do you need help?" Harry asked and then watched as the tension drained from the man who hung his head in defeat.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Harry and remembering what Hermione had said about unnecessary magic he moved towards the man cautiously. He got behind the older man and slid his arms under the stranger's arms hoisting him up and sliding him on the bed. Harry realized two things at that moment, that the man was burning up with fever and that he had really been slacking on his quidditch training in the off-season.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was already mid-morning and he would have to handle this without Hermione. He helped the man get comfortable on the bed and then went to the bathroom returning with a glass of cold water and a flannel. Cupping the man's chin he tilted the glass and helped the stranger drink. When the glass was empty he took the cool, damp flannel and began to mop the sweat from the stranger's brow while the man continued to mutter to himself from the effects of the fever.

Harry hadn't had any formal healing training, but he had spent enough time around the hospital wing as a patient to know that he had to get the man's fever down. The cold cloth didn't seem to be having much effect, so he filled the bathtub with cool water.

"I need to get you cooled off. Will you let me help you take a bath?" Harry asked, figuring he should ask permission. As Harry expected the man did not respond so he sighed and started on the man's clothing.

"I guess if you really object you'll find a way to let me know." He said, unbuttoning the man's shirt and pulling it off his shoulders while continuing his one sided conversation with the stranger.

"You know most men are much more enthusiastic when I start taking off their pants," he said with a laugh, "Not that there have been all that many men! I'm hardly the casual fling type. I don't know why I'm telling you all this although I suppose we are in a rather tight situation here."

Harry sat back on his knees and looked over his patient. The cuts were healing well, but he was shocked to see the amount of scars that crossed the other man's body. Telling himself that it was none of his business he went back to the task at hand.

"I'll leave your boxers on for now to give you a bit of privacy. I'll get you some of my guardian's clothes to wear after."

With a determined grunt he scooped the other man up and helped him to the bath, carefully settling him in the cool water. Picking up the flannel he had used earlier he spread cool water across the man's brow, shoulders, and chest occasionally checking for signs the fever was coming down.

"You know, I haven't had a chance to look at your clothes and things for a clue to who you are." he told the unresponsive man. "It's unlikely you're a muggle given the wards on this place, but if you are I guess I'll have some explaining to do."

He went on like that for quite a while, trying to keep the other man cool and keeping up his monologue until the man felt cooler to the touch and he had visibly relaxed. He brought the man back to the guestroom and risked a quick drying charm. Retrieving a pair of his godfather's sleep pants he dressed the stranger who quickly slipped back into sleep. He looked quickly through the man's discarded clothes but found nothing of interest. Grabbing the latest Quidditch Monthly he slumped down in the chair by the bed to wait for the man to wake up.

Remus Lupin woke up to find himself in a strange house and wearing someone else's clothes. Panic threatened, but he paused when he realized he was in very little pain.

It must be a wizarding household, he thought, given his medical care. With a start he checked his thigh and was relieved to see the glamour hiding his registry number was still in place. No wonder he had been taken care of so well. His physical condition sorted, he began to look around for clues as to where he might be. The small room was neat but sparse, with no photographs or other personal objects to give him any information about his host.

Finally, his eyes rested on the young man in the room who had not yet noticed he was awake. He guessed the man was in his early twenties and he couldn't help but think the boy rather attractive with his long dark hair and athlete's build.

"Dammit, Lupin" he told himself, "you barely escaped death and here you are lusting after the first good looking young man that crosses your path."

He must have moved or made noise because the young man looked up from his magazine and smiled.

"Good, you're awake. Here, you probably need a drink," said the dark haired man, holding a glass of water to his lips. Remus looked at the glass questioningly.

"Go on," the young man said, "I haven't poisoned the water you know."

Remus supposed if the stranger wanted him dead he'd be lying out in the garden somewhere so with some assistance he drained the glass.

"Thank you," he rasped. His throat was still rough from his screams during the attack.

"You're welcome. What is your name? You didn't have any identification on you. Is there somebody I should call? You've been here a while."

Remus considered the situation carefully. He had been avoiding the wizarding world for so long, but certainly this man was too young to associate his name with any of the infamy his friends had brought on him that Halloween. Still, he saw no reason to chance it.

"John. John Moon," he said deciding his most frequent alias would do nicely, "and there is nobody to call."

The young man nodded "I'm Harry. Don't worry; you can stay here until you are feeling better. I'm the only one home right now."

Remus sighed; apparently this was one of the many wizarding babies who had been named for The Boy Who Lived, just what he needed. Now he felt even more lecherous for thinking the boy attractive. He was out of options, however, and he had certainly been well taken care of so far.

"If you don't mind I'd like to rest for a while," Remus whispered.

The younger man tensed.

"Of course, I'm sorry, let me give you some privacy. Let me know if you need something."

Remus felt bad, he had been rather abrupt with his caretaker who had been nothing but kind.

"Harry, wait. Thank you for saving my life. I'm very lucky it was you that found me. You should get some rest yourself. I'll be fine." He said with a small smile.

The younger man blushed, quite attractively as far as Remus was concerned.

"You're welcome John," he said returning Remus's smile as he closed the door behind him.