A/N: Hey guys, second chapter for today bc I'm going on sort of a semi hiatus after this ((ugh, exams.)) Thank you for all your support. Shout out to Michy Drarry Shipper, my wonderful beta who put up with my screaming about this chapter. I had fun writing this, but also it was difficult. This frustrated me so much, I swear.

Anyway, here it is! Enjoy!

ANTHONY POV

I lie on my bed, looking up and wincing at the burn in my throat and the overwhelming buzz in my veins. My eyesight is going a tad bit blurry and my stomach is in a fuzzy state. Merlin, I hate Frank. I need to get best friends my own age.

As I try to blink my bleary vision away, I am interrupted by a knock on a door. I lift my head up to look around to see if anyone is going to get that, but then the empty room reminds me that Frank probably still has my roommates getting drunk down in the Common Room. It's weird, but nothing unusual. Then again, nothing's unusual anymore.

One thing I've learnt from living in a world of magic, is that you can hardly ever be surprised. When you're constantly surrounded by irritating ghosts, having to study fairies to finish your education and participating in a sport in which there is no guarantee that you won't be hit by a flying metal ball, you can't help but grow immune to shock.

In my whole five years as a Hogwarts student, I've only been significantly surprised three times. Alice offering to be my friend back when I started here as a clueless eleven-year-old was the first. Second was when I made it into the Gryffindor team last year as the youngest player in the whole school. And third…Third surprise was how I felt about Remus Lupin.

I've known that I like blokes the way I should like girls for the longest time and I've always been comfortable with it, but I just don't see the point in telling people who don't need to know. The only people who have ever known about it are my close friends and the people I've dated, and that has worked out so far. Anything more would cause me more trouble, especially in this world.

The whole prejudice formed by people who are against half-bloods and muggle borns is based on the fact that they can't continue the pureblood lineage. They think that it is a disappointment to not fulfil what they think is your duty. The duty for every pureblood to reproduce so that the magic can be contained within pureblood families. So I'm sure that, especially with the war going on, a pureblood who won't reproduce at all will get even more shit for it.

To me, the main reason for how I have managed to keep this a secret, is the fact that everyone I've dated has lived in denial, was way in the closet, or was simply not significant enough for anyone to notice at all. Especially here in Hogwarts, where you can count all the openly gay blokes with one hand. And that was fine for me, because I knew who to go for. I knew who to deal with and how. That's how I got "action" – as Remus would put it.

But I wasn't particularly head over heels for any of blokes I've been with. They made me feel giddy and thrilled, but – although I cared about them and most of the time, it ended on good terms – in the big picture, they were nothing more than flings. Flings that I got over way too quickly for them to actually mean something greater. So that's why keeping my orientation to myself, and my feelings about it, never truly mattered.

But then, Remus came into the picture, and suddenly, it did matter.

We've been friends for quite a while now, but we haven't spent so much time together until a little after Christmas holidays. I've always had a little crush on him – since the first day back from summer, actually – and it wasn't difficult for me to see why. He's attractive, witty, and surprisingly funny. It seemed like a harmless attraction – harmless enough for it to not cause problems as I dated other people – until we started getting inseparable over a month ago when I finally got the nerve to come out to him, acting nonchalant about it and all. With every late night talk in empty classrooms when we were supposed to be patrolling the hallways, every inside joke, every study date (well, I took the liberty of calling them dates, anyway), I fell harder and harder.

The clincher of it all was a couple weeks ago, when I was getting more and more furious at James' completely abusive attitude towards the practices lately. My patience with him was quickly wavering, and I was ready to steal Isaac's bat and send the bludger right to James' huge head, before he finally dismissed us. However, that wasn't what brightened my mood. As soon as he let us go, I spotted Remus down the pitch, grinning up at me. He had that trademark, adorable, crooked smile on and was clutching my textbook which he had added notes to. His hair was all ruffled by the breeze. And the thing about being a Seeker, is that shiny things always catch your attention, no matter how far, nor how fleeting. So I almost fell off my broom as my stomach did a slow flip when I saw the brightest thing ever. His emerald eyes catching the light of the setting sun.

I've been lying here for over an hour, just replaying that moment, because that's when I knew that I was definitely in trouble.

I mean, I'm definitely not in any place to call it love or anything, though. Which is fortunate, really, because I'm sure that I have no chance with him. Remus has his walls built up sturdily around his heart, I can tell. But I don't know why that is, which makes it harder. Although he's comfortable around me, he's still mysterious and shy about his sexuality. Any hope that he could ever want me back is juvenile and desperate. My mind is set to not expect anything from that boy, that much is certain.

Another knock resounds around the room, this time more urgent, putting a stop to my thoughts. I sit up way too fast, which causes more pounding in my head. Groaning, I approach the door, practically stumbling at every step.

As I finally get my uncoordinated hands to open the door, surprise number four hits me right in the face in the form of a very exhausted looking Remus Lupin demanding that I kiss him.

"Excuse me?" I choke out.

His iridescent eyes are wild and frantic. His hair is a mess. His jumper is in a crumpled state on the floor. His shirt is wrinkled and a little damp.

But Merlin, he still looks gorgeous. How does he do that? How can he still look good while looking tired? Meanwhile, a few shots of whatever Frank forced fed me has already got me looking beaten up and hoping that my hair gel holds until the morning. I'm not going to reapply it when I'm not even sure if I'm sober enough to not confuse gel with Frank's toothpaste or something.

"You're gay," he says, calling me back from my thoughts.

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, I think we've established that already."

"Kiss me," he repeats.

My heart starts hammering in my chest, and I try to hide it. I can only hide so much though, when he's leaning on my door frame, tugging at the sleeve of my cardigan, and chewing on his lower lip.

I force out a laugh, pulling my arm away from him. "Okay, Rem, very funny."

His face remains earnest and he pulls me by the collar, making me trip. I grab hold of his shoulders, to keep myself from falling flat on my face, and as I steady myself, I see that I'm only inches away from his face.

"Come on," he whispers.

"What's wrong, Rem?" I ask, getting worried. Remus is fun to be with, but he isn't spontaneous or impulsive. I don't know where this is coming from.

He lets go of me, but still staring me straight in the eye. "Do you ever have those…epiphanic moments where all the interrogative thoughts just form one confluence of answers that just point to one answer when you think about what you really need?"

I blink rapidly, confused, but I can't help but smile. Leave it to Remus to never be in a bad enough state to not use words like 'epiphanic' and 'interrogative' and 'confluence' in one sentence. The alcohol is blocking me from understanding any of it.

"Interro… interroga… confluence… of answers that… what?" I stammer hopelessly.

He chuckles, looking amused, but his eyes look glazed as well. "Lemme rephrase that."

I roll my hand, gesturing for him to go on.

"Well," he starts, through a yawn. "Those… realizations… I mean like…"

"Rem, spit it out, will you?"

He sighs. "Do you ever just ask yourself what you need and the answer just sort of flashes in your head? Then you realize you need to find it, like right now. Before you...fall apart."

"Yeah, when I discovered hair gel at nine years old," I quip.

He laughs, then runs a hand against my hair. "That's funny… You're very funny, you know that?"

It takes everything to not just grab him and kiss him right there. The alcohol is overpowering my willpower more progressively by the second. Before I can give in, I force myself to grab his hand by the wrist, yanking it away from my hair. "Rem… seriously, what do you mean?"

"Bad night and just… I thought really hard about what I needed…"

My mind goes on overdrive as I try to remain nonchalant – even as he brings his hand up to cup my face, brushing his thumb against my cheekbone.

"And ah – what's that?" I manage.

The corner of his lips quirk into an endearing grin that makes my legs feel like they were composed of absolutely nothing but jelly.

Then, as if obvious, he says, "You… I need you."

Before I can even register the magnitude of his words, he grabs me needily. When our lips meet, the whole world goes blank.

My heart races and my mind goes numb as I wrap my arms around his neck. His free hand grips my waist tightly and pulls me closer so that we're pressed up against each other without a single speck of space between us. I feel something wet against my lips, so I slightly part my mouth, and our tongues meet in slow strokes. Our lips not separating at all, my hands grow frantic and move to his hair, running my fingers through it fervently.

His breathing, very much like mine, grows unsteady. He presses harder against my lips before breaking apart from me. Our foreheads are still touching and I can see his alluring emerald eyes clearer than ever – despite the alcohol piercing my eyesight to a blur.

We're still holding each other unbearably close, with both of his hands now grasping my hips as my hands move to his heaving shoulders.

"Bloody hell," he pants into the minuscule space separating our lips.

Chuckling breathlessly, I say, "Yeah."

Then he mutters, "Bed."

I freeze for a moment, waiting for a portion of my brain to wake up and protest, but the intoxication is getting to me faster and faster. I nod. "Okay."

Pulling away after being engulfed in his warmth is almost physically painful. I grab his wrist and tug him towards my bed. I can practically feel every nerve in me set to burn and my stomach fill with relentless butterflies. And not because of the Firewhiskey.

Before I even reach my four-poster, he spins me to face him and starts kissing me and embracing me tightly again. I place a hand at the back of his head, crashing his lips against mine more roughly.

I back up a little and feel the edge of the bed against the back of my legs. My knees give way to us and we fall on the mattress.

We adjust, rolling over, and he ends up sitting up against the headboard. I kneel over him, straddling his hips. He holds my waist and takes me into another kiss. I steady myself with my palms gripping the top of the headboard and pull away as I feel his hands tugging off my cardigan.

"Rem, w-wait," I say in a shaky voice, resting my forehead onto the top of his head. "A-are you sure about this?"

I feel his hands freeze against the hem of my sweater before he brings them up to my face. He tilts his head up until we're looking into each other's eyes. I can practically see the blue of mine, reflect against his emerald stare. The very tips of our noses are still touching.

"I just… really want this right now. You've just made me f-feel different than I have lately and… And yeah… Everything keeps ending up shit, but you're still here, so…" he trails off with a pleading look on his face.

"I've never seen you like this before," I say, concerned.

"I've never needed you like this before," he reasons, his fingers going back to fumbling with the buttons of my cardigan. Before I can stop myself, I shrug it off as soon as he undoes all the buttons in swift motions and raise my arms to let him take off my shirt. However, when he grabs me by the waist, I plant my palms on his chest. I try not to melt as I feel his heart beating at lightning speed for me, as I try to keep him from dragging me atop him again.

"Rem, what's wrong?" I repeat.

He shakes his head. "R-really… nothing… I just… I want you."

"Merlin, Remus," I breathe out. "I want you too… But this all seems very rushed and if this ruins our friendship… and… and…" The alcohol starts to reach its maximum authority over me as I try to resist him. With his hands roaming all over my torso and inner thighs, making every drop of blood in me go south, my self-control can only go so far.

I let out a soft whine when he kisses me softly and pulls away immediately. In one quick movement, he peels his own shirt off over his head and without a second to spare, he nudges off my arms that were keeping me up. It causes me to fall on him as he lies flat on his back.

"Ow," I mutter without much conviction, as I ease myself above him, propping myself on my elbows on either side of his head. "This is so stupid."

He bring his hand up to caress my cheek and I shiver at his touch. Then, he whispers, "Yeah, it is."

Then he reaches up and starts kissing me again, drowning any argument I was going to throw at him. He holds my waist and, without warning, rolls me over underneath him. He nudges my mouth open with his lips and I feel his tongue against mine. He continues to kiss me and my heart picks up to an inhuman speed, my skin feeling like it's radiating heat.

I feel a total bliss rush through me, adrenaline taking over. So when I feel him harden and grind our hips together, the jolt it causes sparks my nerves, working with the alcohol pumping in my veins to ensure that any trace of caution I have left is thrown to the wind. To the point where I don't even second guess him as I feel his trembling fingers unbuttoning my jeans.

'Merlin, Remus,' I plead silently with my eyes with the last grain of control before I completely surrender to him, 'Please don't regret this in the morning.'

I groan into my pillow as the glistening sunlight filters through the gaps of the curtains around my bed and wakes me. A steady throbbing plagues my head in an unsettling rhythm as I rub my temples desperately in a futile attempt to make it go away.

I am going to kill Frank Longbottom.

Running a tongue over my lips to moisten them, I taste nothing but the lingering taste of Firewhiskey and… something else? Chocolate? Yeah, chocolate.

I almost let my heavy eyelids droop and send me back to sleep when I feel a warm breath against the back of my neck. Stiffening, my throat goes dry.

Shit. Chocolate.

Rolling over to my other side, I practically choke.

Remus is entangled in my sheets, sleeping serenely and – I peek underneath the covers – yup, naked. Merlin. I look down at my own bare body and sit up, panicking. I grab my boxers that are hanging off the foot of my bed and scramble around my bed for my other clothes. As more memories start flooding in, I can feel my checks redden. Just as I am about to shout in frustration, I hear Remus stir.

I move back to him as soon as I put on my shirt. He mutters something I can't make out, his eyes indecisively fluttering open and close. Tentatively, I nudge his shoulder and murmur, "Um… Rem? You need to wake up."

He nods slowly, his eyes still shut.

"Rem, come on," I urge again.

"It's a Saturday," he whines, pulling the blankets up to his chin and curling up. Obviously, his mind hasn't woken up yet.

"Remus," I repeat.

"Hmmm?"

"Remus. It's Anthony. You're in my bed and –"

Before I can finish, his eyes flash open, with a frantic look. He bolts upright, looking around. Then, his shoulder slump and his fists rubs his eyes. "Shit."

I nod, lying back down. "Yeah…"

He turns to me and, after a moment of consideration, lies down too, facing me. "I am so sorry."

I shake my head. "No… it's my fault. I was drunk, I should have –"

"I was drunk too," he interrupts, rubbing his temples.

That caught me off guard, although it shouldn't have. Of course he was drunk. He was stuttering and stumbling and being uncharacteristically open. And he acted like he wanted me. Of course he was drunk. I was just so out of it myself that I didn't notice.

I smile tightly. "Can we just blame Frank for this?"

He chuckles and smiles weakly. "Deal."

We laugh for a while, but then it dies down. So I ask the unavoidable question.

"So, what now?"

"I… don't know," he says. "I never really… I mean, I was too wasted to plan it out, obviously. But I never even thought up to this far. Actually, at the back of my mind, I thought you would just send me away… But obviously, that's not your fault since you were drunk too, so…"

I don't think it would have made a difference if I was sober anyway. I would still want you.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "What?"

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I shift uncomfortably. "I mean… fuck. I said that out loud didn't I?" I ask miserably, feeling the pounding in my head grow. "I didn't mean that I would take advantage of you, I just mean that I would still… Oh shit, it's more of a… It's that it would still be hard to turn you away and even if I didn't while sober, I wouldn't have let it get this out of hand at all… Not that I'm saying that I didn't- mmmmmphh!"

He places a hand on my mouth to cut my blabbering off.

"You… you like me?" he says in disbelief, his eyes wide.

My blush gets even more obvious as I nod slowly.

He removes his hand and I'm ready to say sorry for making things more complicated, but the apology dies in my mouth as his hand just moves up to my cheek.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Anthony," he mutters, leaning closer.

"I… I can see that."

"I'm just so… confused about everything."

"Me too."

I don't know why, but my fingers find his other hand beneath the covers. Nudging it a little, my heart beats faster. His fingers suddenly entangle with mine and I feel so preoccupied just with how it feels that I almost don't hear what he whispers next.

"Just… stop me if you want. Stop me," he mutters.

I see something more than confusion in his heaven-sent eyes. They look mild and lost. They scan my face as if it contains something he needs, or something he's convinced he needs. There's such a strong sense of vulnerability and brokenness. But the thing that makes me most anxious is how he's looking at me like he's counting on me to fix him. Like I have the needle and thread to help him stitch up whatever has snapped within him. I want to just outright tell me that I can't help him this way, that latching onto me is dangerous for him.

But as he brings his face closer and I can feel his breath on my skin, I can't help but think that maybe I should at least try.

He presses his lips against mine and the sensation of pure ecstasy fills my senses again. I can practically feel all the concerns evaporating into the air as he deepens the kiss. I bring up my free hand – the other still clutching tight onto his for dear life – and run it through his hair. We stop, and pull apart, but barely. Our lips are still touching as lightly as humanly possible. He backs up a little, but leans his forehead on mine.

"You… You didn't stop me," he whispers.

"Yeah, I didn't."

He smirks. "Merlin's arse… What are we doing?"

I give him a one-shoulder shrug. "I have no idea."

He brings up our hands – still holding together – from under the blankets and looks at them like he's examining the last piece of the puzzle. "What does this mean?"

"I… I don't know," I say, looking at him apologetically. "I mean I never really… shagged anyone I cared this much about so…" I can just imagine how scarlet my face is turning right now.

Then, he avoids my gaze, fixating his eyes on a loose thread of the blanket. "Yeah," he agrees. "I've never shagged anyone…"

I wait for him to add 'while I was drunk' or 'who was my friend' but he doesn't continue at all. Comprehension washes over me and my face pales. "Oh."

"Yeah," he mutters, still not meeting my eyes.

"Shit… I'm your first and… Oh fucking hell…"

"Calm down," he says, looking concerned.

"I'm sorry," I say, frowning. "It's just that… you deserve better. Something special and thought out and something you don't regret and just –"

"Shut up," he interrupts, smirking. "You told me once that your first time was during a two-day fling with some Durmstrang bloke when you visited your cousin last summer because you were feeling vulnerable because your first boyfriend just broke up with you."

I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs.

"Whatever," I say. "You know what I mean."

He chuckles and I feel his grip tighten around my hand. "Besides," he says, "who says I regret it?"

My heart picks up speed. "You don't?"

"Only if you don't."

"I don't."

"Then I don't," he repeats. "But what does this mean for… you know…"

"Us?" I shrug. "I don't know… All I know that I like you and I care about you. But the thing is, you seem to be hurting, because you're acting differently and… not like yourself, so I'm concerned. However, regardless of what the case may be, I want to help you with that. I want to make you happy because lately, as much fun as we've been having, you seem a bit off, like something's missing and I know that it isn't me, but I want to be there for you. Even if I don't understand what's going on. You've become one of my best friends, Rem, and I hate the idea that this might jeopardize our friendship. But to be honest? Whatever this is…" I trail of, not believing I just spilled all that out.

"It feels right?" he finishes, and it's evident in his eyes that he's still in shock of everything I just said.

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" he echoes, nodding. Then, he shifts closer. "Can I ask you something before we decide anything though?"

"Sure," I reply through the lump forming in my throat, hoping that the rapid beating in my chest isn't noticeable.

His face deadpans and, slowly, he asks, "Does your hair always look like this when it isn't bombarded with unsafe amounts of gel?"

My hands fly to my head and color drains my cheeks before I punch him in the shoulder. "You're an arse."

He laughs, running fingers through my wavy unruly blond hair. "I'm kidding. It looks nice like this."

I roll my eyes.

"Really," he insists, cupping my face. Another blush creeps onto my cheeks. "I like it. Besides, it's stupid to wear the stuff all your life, Anthony. Especially when you play Quidditch. It's really impracti-"

"OH SHIT! FUCKING… SHIT!" I yell, shooting up from the bed and yanking the curtains open.

He raises his eyebrows. "…What?"

"I HAVE A MATCH TODAY!" I shout, as I rush to my trunk, trying to dig out my Quidditch uniform. "James is going to kill me. James is going to kill me. James is going to kill me."

I hear a rustle of sheets and glance up to see that Remus is getting dressed as well. Just as I am about to continue looking for my fingerless gloves, something catches my eye as he buttons up his khaki pants – an array of angry scars and bad bruises littered all over his torso and a few scabbed over cuts down his arms. He's always in his sweaters, cardigans and denim jackets, so I've never noticed them before. And last night, I was too trashed and distracted to even notice, I reckon. But now, it's hard to believe that I ever overlooked them. And it's hard to believe that he still looks beautiful.

"What?" he snaps, catching me staring. I freeze. He has that look again, the one I haven't seen in a while. Guarded and walled up. He yanks his shirt over him, adjusting it, after turning around from me.

"Nothing…" I say feebly, not even certain that he's listening to me. "I just…You're beautiful."

He turns around, his expression softening. "You should hurry. I should go ahead and grab a seat. Just fly your broom to the pitch so that you make it on time.

Grabbing the last of my uniform, I stand up. "Okay. I'll get in trouble for that, but I won't pass on making an entrance."

A soft, tentative smile appears on his face and I walk over to him.

"We'll talk after the match, okay?" I say. "I'll look for you."

He nods. "I'll be the one cheering the loudest when you catch the Snitch."

I chuckle. "Yeah, you better be."

"Hurry up, you'll be late," he says. "The Hufflepuff seeker will have caught the Snitch before you finish your hair routine.

"Git," I mumble, but I can't suppress a smile.

"Just go," he says, grinning and giving me a gentle push.

"I'll see you later," I say, turning around. But before I can take another step, I feel his hand enclose my hand and he spins me to face him again.

"You forgot something," he says.

I look at him questioningly, then down at the pile of clothes I'm holding. "What?"

He pulls me close and kisses me full on the lips. My heart starts beating rapidly again and the butterflies in my stomach are returning.

We break apart, although just centimeters away from each other's faces.

"Happy Birthday," he mutters.

I stand there, smiling widely, for a while as I watch him leave the room.

Preview: "You're still in love with Sirius..."
"Maybe."
"Come on..."
"Okay, yeah, I am..."
"Then what the fuck is this supposed to be?!"

*prepares self for people screaming at me for this chapter*