Part Four:

Everything That Came Between Us

Of all the memories he might have fallen into, this is not one he wanted to see. He wouldn't have put it past Severus to ensure, somehow, that this came first. And part of him – the part that recognized the memory instantly and still decided to bend over into it – felt that he deserved to be here. And so here he was, running frantically up the dungeon stairs, following the billowing black robes ahead of him.

There was shouting coming from around the corner, and Remus followed Severus as he skidded to a stop, blocked a stray hex, and joined the fray. Even in Severus' memory, things seem to be moving at once way too fast, and in slow motion.

And then, as he knew he would, Remus saw himself: he looked much younger (how had he aged so much in just one year?), his tattered clothes and greying hair appearing somehow to glow. Remus choked at the strangeness of seeing himself as someone else (and not just someone, but Severus), had seen him.

He winced alongside Severus as they watched a nasty-looking curse nearly take that other Remus' head off. And then Severus, somehow, threw up a shield, sidled around the outside of the hall, and snatched Remus by the scruff of his robes and dragged him into a classroom off of the main hall. Remus rushed to keep up. He remembered this part.

"Severus, what are you-?" he heard his own breathless whisper.

"Shut up, Lupin." Severus growled, and kissed him violently, desperately.

Remus felt something hard and unforgiving lodged in his throat as he stood there, a strange outsider, watching them kiss.

He watched himself threading calloused fingers through Severus' thick hair, watching Severus' hands grip the front of his robes.

They came up for air, gasping, foreheads pressed together.

And then the whispered words… "I'm sorry."

He watched as Severus wrenched himself away, and ran out down the hall.

Everything went black, and Remus opened his eyes to find himself sitting at the kitchen table, afternoon light streaming in through the windows. He allowed his face to fall into his hands, allowed the bitterness of regret to wash over him. He deserved it. He deserved every ounce of guilt, regret, remorse. All of it.

"I'm sorry," he echoed into the empty room. But it was too late.

"Rough conscience?" a groggy-sounding voice from the doorway pulled Remus out of his puddle of self-indulgent pity. He looked up at the scowling, dishevelled-looking boy leaning against the doorjamb.

"Rough night?" he asked, and Draco shrugged, moving past him to the cabinet still stocked with potions, and pulling out what was probably a hangover cure.

Then he sat down across from Remus at the table with a cup of tea and a cold piece of bacon from yesterday.

"That bad?"

Remus declined to answer.

"I supposed I should have a go…" Draco ventured. Remus shrugged, and stood to leave.

Draco made a move like he wanted to reach out and touch Remus, but his hand faltered, and Remus left the room.

After the look on Lupin's face Draco wasn't actually sure he wanted to see the memories Severus had left him. Or more to the point – he was suddenly more interested in seeing his memories of Lupin.

Which Lupin had conveniently left in the basin at the table.

With no more forethought than that, he tipped his nose into the gaseous liquid and fell into… his own house.

He shuddered as he took in the long, thick drapes covering all the windows of the hallway where he stood. It was dark in here. And cold.

Boots echoed behind him and he turned around and jumped to see Severus standing there behind him, listening to the approaching footsteps. Someone opened the door at the far end of the hall and a vaguely familiar voice announced, "they're back."

Severus nodded and strode after him, and Draco scurried to keep up. Down another hall, past the ballroom, and off into the West Wing they went. Draco kept looking for signs of time, but there were none. Still, the darkness, and the smell, gave away the year: it must have been sometime in the last year, after the Dark Lord had taken up residence in the Manor.

He wondered idly where he was at that moment. Probably still at school, he reflected, although he had no way of knowing the time of year.

Severus stepped into the long, dark chamber in which the Dark Lord used to hold court. And there, chained on the floor in the middle a large crowd of jeering Death Eaters were the naked bodies of three men…

Draco's stomach lurched to recognize that one of them was Remus Lupin.

Suddenly, everything dissolved around him and he was back at Severus' house, sitting at the kitchen table.

"What did you see?" a voice asked from the doorway. Draco looked up, guilt probably written across his face, but Lupin just looked bored.

"My house. You were brought to my house." Lupin stiffened a little, but then relaxed and rubbed his hand over his face wearily.

Remus recovered his memories, then, and stoppered them. He should have expected the boy to look, Slytherin that he is. And could he blame him?

They didn't talk again until that night, in front of the fire, drinking.

Suddenly, Draco asked, "So, who topped?"

Remus sputtered in his drink, but recovered gracefully enough. "I did, mostly. It depended."

Draco frowned a little at that.

"I know," Remus remarked, and the boy seemed to understand what he was saying, because he answered,

"I guess he just seemed more like a top."

"He probably was, with others."

Draco frowned again.

"In school. And later. I don't know. Plus he did sleep with women, you know."

Draco nodded. "Mother," he said quietly. Remus decided not to remark on that. He'd have thought Lucius more likely, but who knew?

"And you?" Remus asked, a little daringly. Some small voice reminded him he probably should not be asking questions like this, but the boy was here, all the time, and if Draco could satisfy his curiosity, so could he.

Draco flushed but answered, "we never… but I wouldn't have cared. I suppose I wanted him to take me, though. And he didn't seem averse. At least not when I proposed it, which was every chance I got – I'm sure I drove the man insane…"

"I can't imagine" Remus mumbled into his drink.

Draco apparently didn't miss it, though, because he seemed to sit up a little straighter. "He liked it best when I begged to be bent over the headmaster's desk and punished for my insufferable insolence."

"Spanked first, though?"

"Naturally."

"Can't imagine how he survived."

A pause.

"He didn't," Draco said quietly, and the pang of it was almost too much for Remus.

Remus wanted to apologize. Draco apparently felt the same way, because he just made a quiet, choking noise, drank what was left of his cognac, and stumbled up the stairs to bed without looking back.

Lupin came to bed nearly an hour later. Draco pretended to be sleeping, but the flush of alcohol kept his mind swirling. Finally, he heard Lupin's soft footsteps on the carpet, and felt the shifting weight of the bed as he slipped between the sheets beside him. Lupin lay on his side, facing away, but his breathing remained unsteady.

Draco moved closer, reached out.

Lupin stilled when Draco's hand touched his shoulder. And then he sighed, as though unsurprised. Draco wasn't sure which was worse.

He moved closer, until he was flush against the man, and heard the gasp as his hard cock pressed against Lupin's lower back.

"Please…" Draco whispered into the soft hairs behind Lupin's ear, as his hand trailed down the front of Lupin's nightshirt. He wasn't even sure what he wanted… was he seeking out the remnants of Severus on this man? Wanting to be close to someone Severus was close to? Or did he want Lupin?

He breathed in the smell of Severus' sheets, and Severus' tea on Lupin's clothes. He lapped up the salty sweetness of Lupin's skin and compared it, transmuted it, to Severus, somehow.

"Touch me like you touched him," he suggested, and heard the rumbling growl from low in Lupin's chest.

Lupin rose, ponderously, but powerfully, and Draco fell back against his pillow, and refused to be cowed.

"Please," he asked again.

Lupin loomed over him, propped on one arm, and leaned down to whisper against his throat, "Severus," as his fingers ran up his shirt to tweak his nipples, pulling and teasing and twisting until Draco yelped, and finally running in cruelly tantalizing swirls down, down, down to his aching, dripping cock, finally wrapping around him, and Draco couldn't help the whimpered, "please," that escaped his lips. He heard Lupin growling in his ear but he smelled the smell of Severus' shampoo in his hair and then a strong, long-fingered hand was stroking him and he closed his eyes and allowed it to be Severus, here, with him, stroking him just like he used to, just like Draco always begged him to.

It didn't last long.

Draco had barely begun hissing in that way that Severus used to when he was close, when he came in a pathetic moan. And before he was even fully conscious again, Lupin had reached down and was tossing off desperately beside him, his face still buried in Draco's shoulder and drawing shallow, ragged breaths as he pulsed onto Draco's stomach.

Lupin fell to the bed heavily, kicked off the covers, and reached around for a wand before casting a weak cleaning charm and rolling over.

Draco lay awake and tried not to think.