A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Some RemusRabastan. :)

Wandlore Task 2: Write about someone with a hidden talent

Word Count: 1034

Note: This is an AU where Voldemort was defeated after the first war.

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury, language

Thanks to Lucy and Bex for betaing!

Enjoy!

Remus groaned as he opened his eyes, reluctant to leave the dream world behind. Still, he sat up and stretched, listening as his vertebrae popped and crackled. He glanced at the clock and was surprised by how late it was; he should have been awake hours ago, but since he didn't have anywhere to be that morning, he let it slide.

Remus slipped out of bed and grabbed the lime green comforter—it had been a joke gift from James many years ago, but Remus had grown strangely attached—and wrapped it around his shoulders. He padded out of the bedroom he shared with his lover and into the kitchen, where he could hear noises.

Rabastan seemed surprised to see him up. "There you are," he said. "I was wondering when I'd see your beautiful face."

Remus flushed darkly and rolled his eyes. "Funny," he groused, painfully aware of the new scars across the bridge of his nose and the grey hairs already cropping up. "Why… why didn't you wake me?"

They'd only been living together for a few weeks, but Rabastan already knew Remus' schedule. Truth be told, this new step in their relationship was as terrifying as it was thrilling; Remus had never gotten this close to anyone before, not in a romantic sense. Part of him was afraid that Rabastan would change his attitude towards lycanthrope after being in such close proximity to it.

The ex-Death Eater shrugged. "I thought you could use a lie-in."

"The full moon was two days ago," Remus protested weakly. He pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, the comforter still covering him.

Rabastan's silver eyes locked onto Remus, and he raised a dark brow challengingly. "You're still healing."

The Slytherin's tone booked no room for argument, so Remus bit back his response and changed the subject. "What're you doing in here?"

Rabastan turned back to whatever he'd been doing before Remus walked in. "Making you breakfast. Now shut up so I can finish."

It was Remus' turn to be surprised. "I didn't know you could cook." His eyes widened. "You've been letting me do it all!"

Rabastan's lips curled upwards into a smirk, but he didn't deny it. Remus crossed his arms, too tired to actually be indignant but not willing to let the fact slide, either. His lover ignored him, though, and continued what Remus realized was a quick clean up. He tilted his head, curious, but Rabastan paid him no mind.

After minutes passed in silence, a loud beep sounded—a timer. Rabastan took something out of the oven, his back to Remus, and seconds later presented the werewolf his breakfast.

Remus gaped down at it. "Good Godric. You did not." He lifted a brow, raising his gaze back to his lover. "You made me a damn souffle, Rabastan."

The other man shrugged and tucked his shoulder-length black hair behind his ear. "It would've been breakfast in bed if you hadn't gotten up," he scolded, but Remus could hear the amusement in his voice.

Remus took a bite. He closed his eyes as the simple flavor washed over him; nothing too strong, so as not to overpower his still-heightened senses, and hot enough to soothe his throat, which was still raw from howling at the last full moon. He swallowed, feeling strangely emotional.

"It's good," he mumbled. Then, louder, he said, "It's really good. I can't believe you've been holding out on me like this." He glanced over the table at Rabastan, who was halfway through his own souffle. "What's the occasion?" he asked softly.

Rabastan hesitated for a moment. Remus thought he wouldn't explain—Rabastan wasn't a very open person—but then he reached across the table and took one of Remus' scarred hands in his own. The Gryffindor's hand was dwarfed by his, but that didn't stop Rabastan from dragging his thumb over the other man's knuckles.

"A year ago today," the older man began slowly, "I saw you for the first time at an Order meeting. You came over and introduced yourself to me and Regulus, and you gave us an honest chance, despite our… history. That…" Rabastan's speech was stilted, but he bravely soldiered on. "That was the beginning of my feelings for you."

Remus remembered. Regulus and Rabastan had approached Sirius out of the blue, talking about how they were in too deep and wanted out—Regulus because he had uncovered the Horcrux plan, Rabastan because Rodolphus had been killed in cold blood and he'd realized that death was entirely too close. Letting them into the fold had been a difficult thing for many Order members, but Remus had recognized the fear in their eyes.

He used his free hand to cover his face, trying to cover the blush that he felt much too old and war-weathered for. He looked at his boyfriend, one amber eye peeking out from between his fingers. "Thank you," he rasped, at a loss as to what else he could say. There was a flood of emotion in his chest, like a dam was about to break.

Rabastan reached out and pulled Remus' hand away from his face. The Slytherin's pale fingers brushed across Remus' flushed and freckled cheeks. "I like this," he murmured. And then: "I like you."

Twenty-two, Remus thought, was much too young to fall in love—and yet, he had managed it. "I like you, too." He sighed and leaned into Rabastan's touch.

But the older man wasn't finished yet. He gestured to the souffle, and Remus rolled his eyes and took another bite. It wasn't as hot as before, but it wasn't unpleasant, either. "Go back to bed," Rabastan requested. "Rest. Let me help you."

There was a beat of silence as Remus hesitated. On the one hand, he was reluctant to accept help; he'd been dealing with this curse for eighteen years—he could do it alone. But then he remembered, grudgingly, that Rabastan was trying to be better at caring for others… and that Remus needed to be better about accepting care.

He offered a small smile to his lover. "Okay," he murmured. "But you have to cook for me."

Rabastan grinned a little and tilted his head. "Your wish is my command."