Part Three:
Things I Never Told You
Draco left the patio and went straight to the Severus' second story potions study… his study, now. The doorknob tingled against his palm but it granted him entry. The walls were panelled wood and the floor was covered in the threadbare carpet. Thick fabric covered the windows, and a thin layer dust covered the large desk and the bookshelves, filing cabinets, and supply shelves that lined the walls. A flick of his wand set the floo on the far end of the room alight, flickering across the glass bottles and jars of supplies.
He moved to the curtains and pulled them open, allowing the morning light to shine through, throwing beams of sparkling dust across the dark room. He wandered to the wall of filing cabinets and pulled out drawer at random… W… and removed the files filled with parchment. Severus' handwriting scrawled across most of them. Sometimes sharp and precise, other times broad and agitated, but always elegant.
He clutched the files to his chest and smelled the lavender and tea and spilled potions ingredients as he carried them to an armchair by the fire. He conjured a cushion for his feet and started to read.
Despite living in a relatively small space and at least nominally sharing a bed, they saw fairly little of each other in the next few days. Remus spent most of the day reading in the sitting room in front of the fireplace and trying to distract himself. Draco disappeared into the study across hall from the bedroom that first morning after breakfast and didn't come out until dinner. Remus had been pleased to discover the cold-cabinet reasonably well-stocked, probably Draco's doing, and was able to throw together a simple stir-fry. They ate quietly, spent the evening apart: Draco in the lab, Remus in the living room reading.
They fell into a comfortable routine. Draco made breakfast and tea in the morning, Remus made supper in the evening. At some point every few days or so, the fridge would fill up with food; Remus suspected Malfoy house elves were to thank, since Draco never seemed to leave and anyway it was hard to imagine him going out to a muggle grocery mart. Or any grocery mart, for that matter. Draco smoked like clockwork, standing on the patio before and after meals and right before bed, but otherwise seemed to want to be left alone, which was fine for Remus.
The days passed languidly. After the showers on that first day together, a heat wave rolled through, and oppressively warm cloud-cover made the air thick and sticky. They moved slowly, without haste, passing each other incidentally, speaking rarely.
At night he or Draco would slip into the bed first and fall asleep… or pretend to… and the other one would follow. Remus slept on Severus' side, as he had on that first night. And Draco slept on what had once been Remus' side, though perhaps it had been Draco's side, too. They never went to bed at the same time, though, which might have been odd for any other two people sharing a bed. But they weren't really sharing the bed, or the house. Or… well maybe that's exactly what they were doing: sharing… as in, dividing into two shares. They lived parallel lives, quietly coping with parallel grief. Sleeping side-by-side, couched in the strange, divided intimacy of isolation and loss.
It wasn't until the fifth day, late in the evening, that Remus came out of the kitchen after dinner to find Draco sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, a bottle of cognac on the occasional table between them, sipping from a snifter. An empty glass stood beside the bottle. Draco looked up, and Remus raised an eyebrow.
"Found it in the basement," he remarked by way of invitation. Remus slid into the chair beside him and Draco poured him a glass.
They sat, and drank, and stared at the fire.
Eventually, Remus confessed, "I miss him."
"Me too," Draco nodded.
They stared into the fire side-by-side until Draco stood to go upstairs. Remus waited another few minutes before following him up.
They took to drinking by the fire in the evenings, then. Draco brought out bottles from the basement as his mood possessed him. Remus, who had never known or cared much for liquor, took the boy's word for it when he commented on the superb "nose" of whatever they were drinking.
Lupin seemed content to leave him alone, which suited Draco just fine. He sat in the sitting room and read most of the time. He was like a quieter, less acrimonious Severus, actually. And he cooked, which was nice. They didn't talk much, but they drank a lot, which was something, he supposed.
Early in the mornings Draco still allowed himself to believe it was Severus lying beside him. But ever since that first morning, he'd been able to shake the memory of Lupin's wand tip snagging the edge of his trousers, and of Lupin's cheeks, flushed.
More and more he found details in Lupin's brow, in the wrinkles of his eyes, the length of his fingers, the curve of his spine, that reminded him of Severus. Pieces of him here, and there. The curve of a wry smile. The slide of a too-tall knee along the bottom of the kitchen table, and the effortless dip of his elbows. He took to showering more often, thoughts and images of Severus, of Severus with Lupin, and finally of Lupin, swirling through his mind. He saw Severus pounding into him and then suddenly it was Draco pounding, crashing into him, digging into the white flesh along his hips bones... he stroked himself until he came, or cried, or both. Afterwards it was even harder to do more than sit and drink next to him, and so he continued to hide in his lab, reading and brewing.
Potter showed up a fortnight after Lupin had moved in. He stood outside the garden gate in muggle clothes with a box the size of a wine crate levitating beside him, though Draco couldn't see a wand from where he watched through the second-story window. Draco was pleased to note that even though the wards let Potter in, he still winced as he passed through each barrier. Thank you, Severus.
"Potter," he said, strolling out from behind the hidden door and standing proprietarily beside the sitting room floo.
"Malfoy," Potter nodded, meeting his gaze but quickly dropping it. He waved his hand at the floating box and with a finger, guided it into the room and over to the kitchen table. Draco tried, but probably failed, to hide his surprise. A vague smile played on Lupin's lips as he watched Potter's display of power, which led Draco to believe this must not be news to him, at least.
Draco followed them into the kitchen when Lupin seemed to hover, waiting, but he declined to sit, choosing instead to lean against the counter with cross arms and pretend not to be curious about this new, Powerful Potter and whatever was inside his toy box.
Potter reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew two glass vials with swirling silver liquid – or was it gas? – inside and slid one over to Lupin before placing the other in front of the chair Draco had refused to sit in.
"These are from Snape – Professor Snape. Before he," Potter swallowed, "before he died, he gave me his memories so I would know how to kill Voldemort." He sighed. "Anyway, these are… well we don't need them for the trials or anything, and I thought… well I thought you should have them," he finished, eyes on his hands that were clasped in front of him on the table. How this short, awkward, self-effacing kid managed to kill the most evil sorcerer in history continued to astound Draco beyond words.
"Why?" Draco asked, his voice laden with suspicion and distrust, and he knew it.
Potter's face darkened instantly. "Because Snape would have wanted me to, Malfoy, and for no other reason."
"How would you know what he wanted? You never knew, or cared…" Draco clenched his fists and tried to contain the familiar rage and indignation that Potter always managed to provoke in him.
Potter was trying to do the same, "I know, ok! I've seen it, and I know," he said exasperatedly. "The man only ever loved three people in his life: my mother, Remus, and for some insane reason, you."
Draco huffed and crossed his arms again to restrain all the other reactions, like shame, and pride, and overwhelming bitterness from showing on his features.
Potter sighed and then flicked a lazy finger at the box, which unfolded and collapsed into itself with a puff of purple smoke, to reveal a familiar large stone basin edges with ancient Runic. Draco's had seen it in Severus' office when he was Headmaster... but those moments did not bear thinking of right now, with Potter here.
"I've had it for a month, I figure it's your turn," Potter said looking at Lupin now, as though Draco wasn't in the room anymore. Potter stood to leave, but Lupin convinced him to stay for dinner. Draco left without a word and didn't return until after Potter was gone, of course. He left the vial on the table, too. He couldn't deal with that right now. Maybe not ever. What kinds of memories had Severus handed over? Surely not…
His face flushed as he sat in front of the fire in the upstairs study. There was no way he could ever, ever face Potter again in his life if he had seen…
And Lupin… well Lupin probably already suspected. Why else would he be here, sleeping in Severus' bed if not for the same reason that Lupin was?
Harry stayed for an early supper but declined drinks. They swapped stories about the war, updates on survivors, made promises to meet more often. Harry managed to extract a promise that Remus would attend Ron and Hermione's wedding.
"Is he ok?" Harry asked, gazing over at the hidden door to the stairs.
"I don't know," Remus answered honestly.
Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you ok?" he asked.
Remus thought about it, and considered the usual 'fine,' but in the end admitted, "No, not really."
"I'm sorry… about both of them." For a moment Remus thought: Severus and Draco? But no, he must have meant Severus and Dora.
"Thank you," he said into his tea. Harry waved a hand and the dished floated into the sink and started washing themselves. Remus tried to hide the mild amazement at Harry new abilities, but Harry blushed all the same.
When he had gone, Remus sat downstairs and opened the bottle of cognac that had appeared there along with two glasses. Draco passed him on the way to the patio, and came back smelling like smoke and the heat of summer evenings. He sat without speaking, poured himself a drink, and tossed it back before refilling his glass.
Yeah, Remus felt about the same. He poured himself another drink.
The memories seemed be floating all around them that night as they sat drinking in front of the fireplace.
"So, Potter's mother?" Draco finally said, a tone of wry amusement in his voice.
"Yes," Remus nodded. "Since they were kids. She grew up here. Just down the street, actually."
"No wonder Severus hated him," he snorted.
Remus chuckled into his drink.
"A muggle-born, a werewolf, and his own godson…" Draco mused.
"Eclectic tastes, I suppose."
"Or he liked to have the upper hand," Draco remarked slyly.
"Probably a little of both," Remus reflected.
They stared into the flames for several long minutes, and Remus allowed the warmth of the alcohol to distract him from the prospect of actually uncorking that vial and looking at it. He reached into his robe pocket and removed the two vials, each with a label in Harry's messy scrawl, 'Remus' on one and 'Malfoy' on the other.
He held Draco's vial out and Draco took it, asking, "have you…?" as he tucked the memories into Severus' black robes. Remus shook his head.
"Not yet. Maybe tomorrow." Draco nodded and returned to staring at the flames.
"I never slept with him," the boy suddenly announced. Remus found the revelation surprising, actually, but didn't say anything.
"Not that I didn't try…" Draco added, as if he wanted to make that very clear. "He gave in few times, but he wouldn't sleep with me…" he said, sounding somehow both wistful and bitter. "He promised that when I was out of school and the war was finally over…" his voiced wavered and he stopped himself, jaw clenched tightly, staring into the fire. Remus felt the pain expanding in his own chest again, threatening to overcome him again. Severus… gone…
Presently, Draco went on. "The first time I kissed him, he gave me detention…. with Filch," Draco remarked. Remus laughed a little at the thought.
"The first time I kissed him, he kicked me in the bollocks," Remus countered, and Draco choked on his drink. "Honestly," he nodded, laughing a little, too.
"When?"
Remus cast his mind back, back through the years, and closed his eyes. "Sixth year. James and Sirius had been especially cruel, more than usual. I went to find him… he was in the bathroom on the sixth floor…" he stopped himself but Draco merely nodded, obviously wanting bypass his own memories that lay embedded in the tiles of that room.
"Well he tried to hex me but I disarmed him. I just wanted to talk. To apologize… I don't know… but instead…"
"You kissed him," Draco finished, like it was perfectly understandable. Remus chuckled.
"Yes," Remus nodded, blushing slightly at the memory, "and he kissed me back,"
Draco sat up and leaned a little closer, a smirk curving the side of his lips.
Remus inhaled, feeling the distant memory of youthful arousal tingling through him… "he kissed me… he actually reached out and pulled me in, right up against him, and," he inhaled again, the warmth of growing arousal spreading through him and he found he was unable to stop it, "gods the moment I was pressed up against him like that, everything made sense, and I just wanted… I don't know… I wanted…"
"Everything…" Draco supplied, his eyes bright with something that made Remus cock twitch, and he nodded.
"But then I whispered his name, and he pulled away, like he'd just remembered who I was… and then he kicked me."
"Typical," Draco judged. Remus chuckled at that, too, feeling slightly breathless. "What was it like? You know… with him…?" Draco finally asked. Remus swallowed and tried hard not think too much about it.
"It was… good," he finally answered. Draco nodded as though he had expected no less.
"What was he like?" he asked, his eyes suddenly alight with curiosity, and maybe something like the arousal Remus was feeling, but Remus wasn't sure.
What was he like? Remus tried to hold back the ache of loss long enough to really think about it… because the boy deserved that much, he thought.
"He was… harsh… demanding… possessive…" he chuckled. Remus hoped he was somehow doing the man justice. Probably no one ever had, or could.
Draco silver eyes sparkled in the firelight. "He tasted like cognac the first time he let me suck him off," he observed matter-of-factly. Remus choked into his glass, face growing warm at the thought. Draco turned devious, heavy-lidded eyes at him and Remus suddenly realized they'd had entirely too much to drink after everything that had happened today. The memories were so close to the surface now, he felt like just the barest snag of a nail would tear a hole and everything would bleed out of him.
He stood to leave. Draco stood to follow him, reached out, grasped his wrist.
"Draco," Remus whispered, a question and a warning.
The boy let go of his arm, and sank back into the chair. Remus trudged upstairs and into the shower. He stood under the hot water, allowed it to beat down on his shoulders trying to shake the arousal that was nagging him, now, alcohol-blurred images of Severus, of Severus with Draco… and of Draco… whirling through his mind. He clenched his fists and turned the shower on cold, but there was nothing for it. He shut the water off and leaned one hand again the cold tile wall while he tossed off to the image of Draco, school robes and all, kneeling to swallow Remus' cock. He came with a silent grunt and shut the water on again to rinse off the come, and if possible, the shame, before going to bed.