When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ XI:i

Try Honesty

"I thought I'd found my place before I knew how much it costs to play it safe..." Embrace

There was silence for several moments after the neatly crafted cake had met its demise. McGonagall did not speak until Remus carefully asked, "They have no idea what happened? Where he may be now?"

"I am afraid not, Remus, no," she replied in a worried, sympathetic tone. "He is simply gone, and my fear is that he has returned to his master."

"I'll rip his fucking ratty head from his body if he comes anywhere fucking near us!" Sirius growled, starting to pace the room.

"You think he'll come back to the school?" Draco asked, looking at the black-haired man anxiously.

"We can't possibly judge at this stage," Remus replied quietly, "but Peter was a secure patient, he is classified as clinically insane, we cannot even be sure he knows what has happened-"

"He did a fucking good job of pretending in the past, though, didn't he? What if all this was a set up? What if we fell for it?"

"What if he turns into Wormtail and comes here?" Harry asked.

"No, Mr Potter, the wards would not allow it," McGonagall assured him.

"Nah," Sirius corrected, stopping in his pacing and staring straight at her disembodied head in the fireplace, "Nah, Min, you're wrong. He spent years in this place and nobody fucking realised it."

"That was an extremely unusual situation, Sirius-"

"This isn't exactly fucking normal either, is it?"

"No, Sirius, it isn't, but as Remus has already observed, Peter Pettigrew is insane. He may even be dead already. We must not panic."

"I am not fucking panicking! I'm being realistic!"

"Should we go back to the school?" Harry asked, looking form one adult to another.

"No!" Sirius replied immediately. "No, you're staying here. It's been nearly two days - Wormtail could be anywhere!"

"Sirius, we can walk the boys back to the castle. They'll be fine."

"I said no. It's dark out there, now. I don't want you to leave the cottage."

"Sirius, don't be so melodramatic. You can't hold everyone hostage because of Peter. He could already be dead-"

"Or he could be sitting outside right now, waiting to tell Voldemort everything!" Sirius countered, causing both boys to stare at the windows as if expecting the Dark Lord himself to dive through at any moment.

"If it will give you some peace of mind I am prepared to allow Harry to remain with you for tonight," McGonagall said, eyeing the boys suspiciously. "I am afraid that you must make arrangements with Severus with regard to Mr Malfoy."

Remus gave her a strained smile and thanked her. She nodded good night and disappeared from the fireplace with a slight wrenching pop. The bespectacled man stared down at the fallen cake, profoundly aware that it now resembled a cowpat and in turn, something that he was sure was about to hit the proverbial fan with some velocity. Behind him, he was dimly aware that an argument had broken out between the other three. It seemed that Sirius and Harry were disputing where Draco should sleep, while Draco tried to insist that he should be allowed to go back to the castle. Every now and then, one or both of the others would tell him to shut up because he was staying. For a moment, Remus wondered if anyone would notice if he wandered out into the darkness himself. As much as he wished he could ignore it, he couldn't pretend that this wasn't the worst-case scenario he had refused to consider. No one expected Peter to matter again. Peter was mentally ill. The only threat he posed was to himself. Or, it had been.

Remus turned and looked at the other three; Harry and Sirius were half-wrestling, playfully, Draco was sulking nearby, impatiently trying to attract their attention long enough to complain a bit more. Remus was responsible for all of them. They may not like - or even be aware of the fact - but he was. The young Malfoy was perhaps to end up as a ward of the school, but Remus knew, with an inexpressible conviction, that it would all come down to him.

As a little boy he had dreamed of growing up and having a family of his own. A very feminine longing, perhaps, but one he had clung to until he was old enough to realise his condition would not allow for it. He had grown to despise his condition even further - not to mention his sexuality - for taking from him the final core of normality that he had always wished for so desperately. At Harry's birth he had reached an understanding of this so profound that it had almost numbed the feelings of disappointment. Sirius had sworn that they would be the best 'uncles' a child could wish for, and for a short time they had been. In an album hidden away where Sirius would never find it, were over a hundred pictures of Harry as a child. Every picture featured the tiny infant with one or both of them. His very favourite showed him holding a small bundle of brightly coloured knitted blanket, which reached out and grasped at his glasses from time to time, causing Sirius, who peered over his shoulder, to laugh and kiss him on the temple.

This, what faced him now, in this room, was not what he had longed for. He felt so desolate and alone. Harry simply needed approval and to be cared for but Sirius was just like another teenager to look after most of the time - headstrong and determined, yet fundamentally incapable of taking care of himself, no matter what he wished to believe. There were times when he could show some maturity, but they were few and far between and it was infuriatingly frustrating when he wouldn't act his age. Like now. But, some part of him reasoned, there was no one else to do it, and he loved them both, so he adjusted his glasses, stepped into the fray, and started making decisions.

"Draco, I'm afraid you will be staying here until the morning. You can have my room, I'll sleep down here."

"I want to go back to the school!"

"I'm sorry, I am not happy letting you walk there alone, and there is no one here who can do so, so you will have to stay."

"But-"

Remus cut him off in his firmest voice, "No 'buts'. You will be sleeping in my room tonight. I will sleep here."

"You could sleep in my room, Moo!" Sirius offered immediately.

"Really? And where would you sleep?" Remus returned in a tone that Sirius thankfully recognised meant this was not the time for innuendo.

"He can stay in my room!" Harry suggested hopefully, "I'll sleep on the floor, I don't mind!"

"Alright, Draco can stay in your room, but you'll have to leave the door open. It's a school night and you can't stay up all night chatting-"

"Or anything else!"

Sirius, I'm warning you...

"You had better change the bed linen. Has Cross slept in that bed?" Draco demanded.

"No!" Harry replied, blushing deeply.

Quite right, and I sincerely hope he never does.

Several hours later, having fed them, washed up, transfigured the rug into not one, but two, feather mattresses because Draco refused to sleep in the bed because it was 'uncomfortable' and Harry then demanded to be allowed to sleep on the floor too, found Draco a pair of Harry's clean pyjamas and sent the boys to bed, Remus finally left the rest of the cottage's occupants to fend for themselves and shut himself in his bedroom. He was stressed, but he'd live with it, he'd just knuckle down and get on with it, just like he always did. Although, admittedly, this was not a level of responsibility he was used to. He removed his glasses and lay back against the pillows. His room was the smallest of the three bedrooms, and entirely crammed with bookshelves, which he sometimes thought were a little oppressive, hemming him in, reminding him that all he was was a werewolf with a good brain.

Beside the bed, another picture stood in a frame. Four boys sat on a bench with their arms around each other. They were all laughing at something off camera - it may have been the day Elias had his nose transfigured into a cabbage - and they were all so carefree, enjoying their youth. Peter was there, of course. Remus didn't believe in destroying memories by erasing undesirable aspects, like Sirius did. None of the photos he owned had had people cut out of them. There had to have been a time when Peter was on their side - genuinely on their side. Why ever would the Sorting Hat have put him in Gryffindor if he weren't brave and loyal and rash? Remus was too forgiving, he knew that for certain. He just wanted to believe that everyone was good, deep down, and that whatever happened to them in their lives, whatever affected the decisions they made, if was impossible to corrupt a good heart. People made mistakes, no one was infallible. Maybe Peter was just one of those people.

He was glad Sirius didn't know what he was thinking. Sirius did hold grudges and it was quite likely that if he knew what Remus thought of Peter he would hold a very serious grudge against him, too. Remus hated what Peter had done, he couldn't comprehend why he had done it - but he couldn't help but wonder if something they had done had caused him not only to turn to Voldemort, but to forfeit the lives of his friends. He had even wondered if Peter had hated Remus more than the rest of them. He had known that the one thing Remus needed more than anything was the people around them, the only family he had left, and Peter had taken all of them away from him, one way or another. When he saw Peter at the Shrieking Shack, a year and a half before, he would have killed him. He genuinely would have done, because the state that he found Sirius in, slumped on the wooden floor, the sight of Harry - Sirius' own godson - holding his wand in preparation to kill him, made him so desperately angry that he wanted to eradicate the small, balding man from existence. He wanted him to never have lived, never have shared their happy times when he had brought about so many of their very darkest. And now, even after they had thought Peter's influence on their lives had been cut off - could not progress any further - here he was again.

The carefree days of the photograph - of the many pictures in the stacks that Remus had hidden around his property - were gone. Long gone. All he was left with was an emotionally damaged teenage boy - no doubt two, in the near future - and Sirius, emotionally damaged to the point where he almost seemed like a teenage boy. How could he possibly allow himself to resume romantic attachment to someone so vulnerable? It would be wrong - improper - and he wasn't sure he would be fully able to accept that Sirius was, in fact, older than he was and not a youngster, barely out of school. No matter how much he loved him, or how much Sirius thought he knew what he wanted, Remus had to be the responsible one again. He had to hold back and make sure that whatever happened, Sirius was not forced back into his shell - not forced back into the state he had been in when he had first arrived at the cottage - uncertain and unaware of whom he had once been. If Sirius found out the things he surely would if they moved ahead - if they allowed things to develop now, before he was ready - there was no telling what it may do to him in the long-term. No telling what sort of damage it could do. He would simply have to wait, and do whatever he could to keep the other man sane. Sighing, Remus curled up around his pillow, and wondered how he would ever be able to cope.

In the next room, Harry was buttoning up his pyjama top, Draco having retreated to the bathroom to get changed. He had caused a slight fuss about Harry not being allowed to see him in his underwear, which Harry thought a touch unreasonable seeing as he was not the guilty party where that was concerned. Harry didn't care, he was just a little put out by Draco's attitude. Not that I should have been surprised, he mused Tetchy little git.

His thoughts were interrupted when the blond boy self-consciously made his way into the room, clutching his neatly folded clothes to a topless, and very pale, chest. "I forgot my shirt," he explained as Harry gave him a baffled look. "Would you mind turning around so I can put it on?"

"What? Look, Draco, I'm really not interested in-"

"Will you please turn around?"

"Alright, alright - I don't see what the fuss is all about, though - it isn't as thought you're a girl, is it?" Harry tutted, turning his back, but not pointing out that he could still see the other boy in the mirror. Draco ignored him and put the pile of clothes down on the bed, holding his arms close to his sides, as if wanting to hide. He was incredibly thin. Harry wondered if that was what he was so embarrassed about as he watched him scrabble to put on the pyjamas, which actually looked ludicrously baggy on him.

"Do you snore?" he asked suddenly, jolting Harry out of his contemplation.

"What? Oh, no... Well, Ron says I do sometimes, but not always," Harry told him. "Can I turn the light out, now?"

"If you wish."

A couple of moments later they were laying, side-by-side in near-identical beds, staring up into the darkness.

"You had better not snore, you know..." Draco threatened again idly, squashing his pillow.

"I've told you, I usually don't."

"You had better pray you don't tonight."

"Why, what're you going to do about it?"

"Smother you with one of these pathetic excuses for a pillow."

"Yeah, of course you will."

"I will, Potter."

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Oh, really? Is that a challenge?"

"Y-oof!" Harry was cut off mid-syllable as he was squashed by a figure that looked dim blue in the faint moonlight and wielded a pillow in its hands.

"Draco!"

"Still refuse to believe me, do you?" Draco demanded, triumphantly holding the pillow inches above Harry's face.

"But I'm not snoring!"

"Call it pre-emptive action," the Slytherin smirked, lowering the pillow further.

"Draco!" Harry laughed again, trying to push the pillow away from his face.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco taunted, moving so he was knelt with one leg either side of Harry and placing most of his rather inconsequential weight so it countered Harry's equally feeble defences. After a few moments of breathless, giggly scrabbling, Harry's arms finally gave way and Draco and the pillow lay firmly across his face. "Ha! Snore now, you ape!"

"Mphurfffffumeeedafffohhhhh!"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. You appear to have a pillow over your face."

Harry gave an incredible heave and shoved him off, laughing, "You git!"

"I wouldn't say that..."

"I would."

"I could try to suffocate you again...?"

"I could try to suffocate you!"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would."

"Well, being brought up by a rat-eating convict must do something to you. Heathen!"

"That's it!" Harry launched himself onto the neighbouring mattress and practically flattened the other boy, who gave a small squawk.

"Oh! Potter, that hurt!"

Grinning, Harry pinned him down by the wrists and cooed, "What's my name, Draco?"

"Big, Heavy Git."

"Nope." He yanked the pillow out from behind his head, causing it to bounce against the mattress and nearly causing them to knock their heads together. "Try again."

"Potter the Sadistic Moron?"

Harry held the pillow close to the other boy's face.

"Okay, okay! It's Harry!"

Harry cackled at him. "You are such a wimp."

"I am not, it's basic self-preservation. You're an over-enthusiastic Gryffindor! You'd probably have killed me before you'd even realised it."

Harry barely quirked his lips in response. Draco looked odd from this angle. He looked different, but maybe that was the moonlight. His skin seemed translucent and his eyes had a beautiful, slightly bluish hue, like the moon on tranquil water. Harry found himself transfixed, feeling as though he were being drawn into them by some unknown force, and was barely aware that he was slowly moving nearer.

"I should warn you that if you're going to kiss me again I'm going to punch you," Draco's voice said suddenly, with a lightness that didn't seem quite right, somehow.

Harry looked down at the position they had ended up in - Harry not quite straddling, not quite laying upon him, holding both the blond boy's arms above his head with one hand, a pillow left abandoned by the other, which was pressed into the mattress next to his head. Even their faces were barely a few inches apart. In an instant he had leapt away and back onto his own bed, glad of the darkness disguising the colouring of his cheeks, which his heart seemed to be pumping five times as fast to supply. He didn't even want to think about what that peculiar tingle might mean, or how much worse the damage would have been if the blood hadn't been pooled in the reservoirs on his face.

"You're incredibly quick when you're embarrassed."

"Get stuffed!" Harry muttered gruffly, feeling, as it happened, incredibly embarrassed.

"I will do no such thing."

"You will if I stuff you."

Draco looked at him and raised a pale eyebrow. "You make the most despicable Freudian slips, you know."

"What?"

"It's hardly surprising that you give the wrong impression when you don't realise what you're saying yourself."

Harry blushed even redder, and was sure that he must be glowing pink by now. "We don't all have dirty minds, you know."

"But you're so innocent!"

"I'm not as innocent as you think I am!" Harry replied indignantly.

Draco looked away for a few moments - Harry thought he may be staring at his neck - then murmured, "Please don't give me details, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied softly, "I wouldn't..."

There was another pause before the blond boy looked away altogether and asked, in as casual a voice as he could muster, "Have you and Cross...?"

"Have we...?" Harry echoed slowly, before firmly shaking his head and saying, "No. No, we haven't."

"I thought maybe... when you came into class with that mark..." He reached out and almost ghosted his fingers over it, before rolling sharply back to stare at the ceiling and clenching his fist to his chest.

"You mean in Potions?" Harry asked, his mouth suddenly dry, his lips starting to tingle as he looked at the profile of the boy silhouetted in the moonlight. The soft curves and ridges had a bluish-white line defining them and it took a considerable amount of resolve not to reach out and follow the line with his finger.

"Didn't you notice the room full of exploding cauldrons?" the other boy asked, tritely.

"Yes..." Harry murmured, "I just didn't realise that it was because of that."

"You don't pay yourself enough attention, did you know that?"

"No..."

"Well, I suppose that's because Cross is too busy doing it for you, isn't it?" Draco told him, fixing his gaze even more intently on the ceiling.

"He does, but..." Harry's voice trailed off into nothing.

"'But' what?"

"I only let him do things like that because I upset him... or... just because he's upset about something..."

Draco looked at him with furious concern. "Harry!" he hissed, "You mustn't do that! You can't cheapen yourself that way! Don't you realise that once your innocence in gone it's gone forever? If you do all this without meaning it you are wasting yourself!"

"It's not like that - Gavin would never do anything to hurt me -"

"He already has!"

"I don't want to have this argument again, Draco," Harry sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "I like Gavin a lot. I fancy him and he doesn't get unnecessarily pushy. All I meant is that it's the only way I know how to comfort him. You're not the only person I'm stupid enough to be able to hurt all the time."

"Oh, good. We should form a society."

"I wish you would. I wish you could get along with all of my friends."

"When Hell freezes over."

"Don't you sometimes wonder if this is Hell?" Harry asked, rolling fully onto his side and gazing at the other boy.

"If I believed in 'Hell' I might suspect it."

"If you don't believe in Hell how can it freeze over?"

"My point precisely. It never will."

When Remus awoke the next morning and passed Harry's bedroom on the way to the bathroom, he paused as he caught sight of two figures, one blond, one dark, curled up on mattresses that had started a foot and a half apart but were now virtually pressed together. The boys were curled up in near-mirrored positions, their foreheads barely two inches apart. He felt glad that he had insisted upon leaving the door open, but somehow also apprehensive. He could see a string of complications arising.

When he returned to wake them up, an hour later, the blond boy had moved. He was stretched out on his back, one hand over his face; the other, Remus realised, was clasped in Harry's. He felt the string of complications weave itself into a chain and anticipated a lengthy period of damp shoulders.

Harry found himself in yet another bemused stupor as he climbed the steps to the Tower. The previous night had been... well, lovely, really. Aside from a few moments of awkwardness, it was fun to just lie around talking and teasing each other. He supposed most people would call it 'spending quality time' together... He felt even closer to him, now, which was probably why - or so Harry surmised - he had come to close to doing something incredibly stupid the night before. Draco was already up when Harry woke that morning. He was sitting beside him, staring at him with a look of confusion and holding one hand out, palm up-wards, as if he had recently been inspecting it. He had insisted that there was nothing the matter when Harry asked and he began to wonder if he was the one a little off kilter when Remus appeared to be studying them curiously but also insisted there was nothing wrong.

He was dimly aware that the common room was empty - everyone would be at breakfast at this time of day - and he strode into the fifth year dorm without even thinking about it. He was greeted by a clattering thud, a distinctly pink Hermione and Ron's legs sticking up in the air from behind the bed.

"Ow."

"Harry..." Hermione said with a vague awkwardness, "you're... back."

"Yes. And now I'm going," he replied, not sure he wanted to know what he had interrupted.

"We were just... erm..."

"Right," Harry nodded, raising his eyebrows and not entirely sure where to look as he began to make his retreat through the door.

"Could someone get me up from here?" Ron's voice asked. "I'm kind of stuck."

"Is he decent?" Harry asked, peering towards the flailing limbs apprehensively.

"Not bad..." Hermione sighed distantly. "Oh! Um... yes, he is."

Harry cringed. Argh. I don't need that information, I really don't.

"Ron? What on Earth are you doing? Give me your hand." Hermione tugged at him with both hands until he finally managed to half-fall, half-roll out of the position.

"We were just... erm..." Ron began, his face, too, a deep shade of red.

"I don't want to know. I really, really don't."

"So where were you last night?" Ron asked, tugging his uniform straight.

"We were a little bit worried, really. Professor McGonagall said you were safe, but she wouldn't tell us where you were."

"I was with Draco."

"What?" Ron gasped incredulously.

"What do you mean 'you were with Draco'? Why? What happened?"

"You don't want to know. In fact, I don't want to tell you, because you'll only whine at me again."

"Harry Potter, you tell me this instant!" Hermione said, looking immensely threatening. Perhaps because he knew he had just interrupted their coital exploration and was now refusing to give a decent reason; perhaps because her hair looked rather fluffier and more dishevelled than usual, causing her to appear about twice her usual size.

"We just slept together at the cottage," he shrugged. Catching the open-mouthed looks of horror on their faces he re-considered the order of his words and corrected, "I mean, we slept at the cottage together."

"Separately, I trust."

"Yes. And no, you don't trust me because I saw the looks you two just gave me! Nothing happened, okay? Well... nothing definite..."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to hit him; Ron looked as though he wanted to be sick.

"Nothing definite? Either it did or it didn't, there is no indefinitely about it!"

"There was nothing definitely sexual about it!"

"Oh give over, Harry - if there was something possibly sexual there was definitely something sexual about it!" Ron argued.

"Right, and you reckon just because you two are at it you know everything, do you?"

"We are not 'at it'!"

"Too bloody right. It'd not like we'd have the sodding chance, is it?"

"Harry, what actually did happen? Indefinitely or otherwise."

"We both slept on the floor of my bedroom. We had a pillow fight and... well..." he shrugged, not looking at them, "it got a bit intense... but that's all..."

"Intense in what way?" Hermione asked carefully, eyeing him with overt suspicion.

"Well... we just came a bit close to... well... not that it matters because he said he'd punch me if I did anything."

"Something such as what, Harry?"

"Such as...um... such as kissing him."

"Oh for pity's sake!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head with a distinct look of 'Give me strength!'

"How the bloody hell do you always manage to do that, Harry? You can't bloody keep your hands off him! Why don't you do us all a favour and just admit-"

"It wasn't meant to be like that! I was laying on him and we just-"

"YOU WERE WHAT?"

"We were in the middle of a pillow fight - "

"Sounds more like pillow biting to me..."

"Ron! That's disgusting!"

"Look, we didn't kiss, we slept in separate beds - there's nothing more to tell. Just damn well leave it, will you?"

"Harry, we're just worried about you..."

"What the hell for? I'm going out with Gavin, yes, I know that, and maybe Draco and I... maybe we're really... close... but I'm fine, alright? I wouldn't hurt Gavin - I wouldn't do what he did and I wouldn't deliberately do that to Draco again! They mean too much to me - both of them. And to think there's a war going on out there and you're more worried about whether I'm snogging a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin! God...!"

"Isn't that half the point? Malfoy is a bloody Slytherin - "

"Not going through this again - no, no, no."

"We're just-"

"Well stop flaming worrying! I've had enough; I'm going to class. If you two can drag yourselves apart I'll see you later." Harry stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving two very frustrated friends behind it.

"Is he stupid, or something?" Ron asked, shaking his head in wonder.

"No," Hermione sighed, frowning, "I think he's just falling in love."

"You reckon?" the ginger boy snorted. "Question is, which one with?"

"I'll be honest with you, Ron, I'm really not sure I want to know."

"I dunno if it'd be worse for him to fall in love with Malfoy or Gavin bloody Cross! I mean, they're both a right pair of tosspots."

"And what is worse for Harry? Getting himself involved with someone who is nice and safe, but cannot keep his hands to himself and is bound to end up hurting him emotionally, or with Malfoy, who poses a huge danger if things go wrong, but whom we can be fairly sure genuinely likes him..."

"Can we?" Ron muttered doubtfully.

"Ron, it's obvious!"

"I haven't noticed it..."

"There is no way a boy like Draco Malfoy would behave the way he has been without a very serious motive. He has done things that would humiliate most people terribly - and all because of Harry. He either means it, Ron, or he's a very good actor and all of this is a trick. And I know even you don't think that any more."

Ron shrugged and shook his head, not wanting to argue.

"Oh, I do wish he'd just stay well clear of both of them!"

"Me too."

"They'll only hurt him, one way or another..."

"Yeah, but he's a big boy now, 'Mione - he's always telling us not to worry about him, so maybe if we stop hassling him all the time he'll learn by himself."

"I just don't want to see him hurt, Ron... he has already had to put up with so much..."

Ron put his arm around her with the awkwardness of treading still-unfamiliar ground and kissed her on the cheek, "I know you don't... and, I mean, I don't either, but if he won't listen we can't help, can we?"

She gave a sigh and rested her head against his shoulder, "Oh Ron... I just wish everything would go back to normal..."

Looking down at her, Ron blushed and murmured, "I don't," into her hair.

~*~

That evening, Remus was in a rather lighter mood than he had been the previous night. The sleep had clearly done him good, and he had spent much of the day while Sirius was working thoroughly enjoying his own company. However, when Sirius stepped through the kitchen door he appeared to be in a rather amorous mood, and Remus was forced to spend the next hour slapping at his hands as he prepared to put their dinner in the oven. Finally, when he knew that he had at least three quarters of an hour to spare, he decided to take drastic action.

"I'm going to take a shower. If you smell burning, for God's sake turn the oven off."

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Oh go on, Moony. Save water, shower with a friend and all that."

"How droll," Remus told him flatly. "No."

"What's the matter, don't you want me to help you wax your palms?"

"Do you want to keep your fingers intact?"

"Actually I want them-"

"Stop right there!"

"Oh you are so fucking prudish, these days!"

"No, you are just rabid. Now if you don't mind..."

Sirius narrowed his eyes in determination as the other man made his way to the door. He stalked after him sullenly. "You used to let me," he said, folding his arms and pouting.

"I also used to be a) young, b) wanton and c) gullible."

Sirius gave a cackle of laughter, "I may have lost my memory, Moony, but I'm not stupid! You and 'wanton' are absolutely fucking mutually exclusive!"

Remus turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, we certainly are these days. I'll see you in half an hour." He shut the bathroom door firmly in Sirius' face.

"What, you think a door's going to do any good?"

"This one will, I am about to riddle it with boobyhexes."

"That's not fair!"

"Half an hour, Padfoot."

Sirius scowled as he heard the soft whooshing sounds the curses made as they landed on and shook the door. So, he was serious, then. He stood for a few moments, pondering the potential of unpicking every curse from the outside before coming up with a better plan. He'd simply irritate him into opening the door. Grinning, he walked into his bedroom and began looking for anything that made a noise.

He didn't hear Harry climb up the stairs and walk to the bathroom door; he heard him yell when he touched the doorknob, though.

"What? What's going on? What happened?" he demanded, launching himself out of the room, wand at the ready.

"Muh..." Harry mumbled, staring at his now thoroughly hairy palms in bewilderment.

There was a series of clicks as the door was unlocked from the inside and Remus appeared looking as though he'd dressed rather quickly. "Wh-"

"Well done, Moo," Sirius said, accusingly. "Look at poor Harry's hands! Look at what your boobyhex did," he tutted at him with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Oh, Harry - I'm sorry!" Remus said, digging around his pockets for his wand to perform the counter spell. "That wasn't meant for you, it was meant for Sirius..."

"Oh," Harry said, staring closely at his palms, as to make sure all the hair had gone. He looked up at him after a moment and curiously asked, "Why?"

"What?"

"Why'd you curse the door to keep Sirius out?"

"Ah... you know what he's like," Remus began with a nervous laugh, "Always trying to get under people's skin. To irritate, them, I mean. We were just...you know... messing around together... Well, not quite together..."

Behind Harry, Sirius mimed digging a hole. Remus cast him a disgruntled look.

"How about some tea, eh, Moony?"

"Oh be quiet."

"I only came back to get my Divination book..."

"I see."

"How's Malfoy?"

"He's alright, I think. He was a bit weird this morning. I'm not really sure why, though," Harry shrugged, "He's just like that sometimes, y'know?"

"I can imagine..."

"So, um... I'll just get my book..."

"Didn't you need to use the bathroom?" Remus asked, stepping out of the doorway so he could pass.

"Er... no. I can wait," Harry replied, looking at them like he thought they were both mad.

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'll just take my shower, then," Remus said, casting Sirius a triumphant look, knowing that even he wouldn't do anything while Harry was around. Sirius pouted and stuck his fingers up at him. This, he decided, was a declaration of a war of wills. Unfortunately, they were relatively evenly matched - it could feasibly continue for years at this rate. Unless he did something very clever about it... Scowling, Sirius retreated to his room and decided it was time to formulate a plan.

~*~

On his was back to the Tower, Harry found himself hesitating at the entrance to the Dungeons. He was strongly tempted him to head down the damp, dark stairwell and visit Draco. Not that he knew exactly how to get into the Slytherin common room or what he would do if he did. In fact, it was only the thought of facing a room full of Slytherins entirely on his own that stopped him. There was a Quidditch game coming up - versus the Slytherins, no less - and he had a horrible feeling that he may find himself irreparably damaged if the Slytherins thought he was trying to get anywhere near their common room, and therefore certainly unable to play. He stood for a moment, staring at the gloom beyond the narrow arch. On the other hand he could just say he was there to see Draco. Except no one's supposed to know you're talking to him, are they, you idiot? He hovered where he was, still. Maybe I could say I was looking for Snape... Snape? He was actually considering that? Knowing his luck he'd meet someone and really have to visit the slimy old git! No, it was best that he didn't.

He sighed and was just about turn and leave when a familiar voice from behind him sneered, "Oh look, it's Potty Potter. Potter, what are you doing? Don't you have a House to go to?"

Harry whirled around to see Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and being clung to by Pansy Parkinson. "I... I was just going...Malfoy," he said slowly, wondering what the hell the other three were doing with him.

"Then go. We don't want your sort sniffing around our territory," the blond boy said, giving him a perfect leer and causing Goyle to crack his knuckles ominously.

"Your territory? Since when was this your territory? Last time I checked it was the school entrance hall." What the hell are you doing?

"Since I said so. You'd better leave, Potter, or I shall be forced to set Crabbe and Goyle on you." He gave Harry a wink as the others started laughing.

"Yeah, Potty, why don't you go back to your Mudblood and the Weasel?" Pansy shrieked, cackling like a harpy on laughing gas.

"Pansy, stop," Draco ordered harshly.

She stared at him for a moment, before beginning to whine, "But Draco, he's just a stinking Gryffindork!"

"Potter is off limits to you, Pansy, don't you remember? Only the grown-ups get to play with the prize game," he informed her as though he were talking to a stupid child. "Why are you still here, scar head?" he continued, staring at Harry with narrowed eyes, that weren't cold like they used to be, but seemed to be forming a well-practised expression. Going through the motions of an old routine. Things had been so different lately that Harry had almost forgotten that they were not only supposed to stay away from each other but most people thought they hated each other. He wondered how Draco could switch automatically between the two. He hated the other Slytherins, and yet here he was, surrounded by them.

With a tremendous effort, Harry gave him a cocky grin and said, "We'll see about territory when we get to the game, Malfoy," shoving through the little group and heading for the staircase. He thought he might have faintly heard the other boy hiss 'well done' in his ear, but he wasn't sure. It wasn't really much consolation. He knew that the other boy was only doing it for show - play-acting at the way things had been for the first four years that they knew each other - but it still stung a little. It reminded him that they had wasted so much time and of all the things they had said and done to hurt each other. What sort of idiots were they?

All of a suddenly he was grabbed from behind and yanked behind a tapestry. He flailed as much as he could until he heard another familiar voice chuckle, "Bloody 'ell, you're jumpy!"

"Gavin!" he gasped as he was put down, "God, you scared me! I thought... God, I don't even know what I thought!"

"Really?" the other boy said, looking a little concerned as he realised how shocked the Gryffindor looked. "God, I'm really sorry! I were jus' playin'... I didn' think..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." Harry said breathlessly, rubbing a hand through his hair, "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. No harm done..."

"I' been lookin' fer you for ages. I wan'ed t' catch you at dinner, but I couldn't. I came t' the Tower t' find you las' night an' they said you weren' there an' I got a bit worried. What's 'appened?" the other boy rambled, fidgeting with Harry's robe and brushing his hair out of his eyes for him.

"Wormtail's missing," Harry explained. "We - er, I was at the cottage when Sirius and Remus heard so...um, I had to stay there..."

"Oh. Well, I'm really glad you were safe..." Gavin said, tucking his hair behind his ears and making Harry smile. He always looked so sweet when he did that. "What?"

"Oh, uh... nothing..." Harry blushed, pushing his glasses up his nose self-consciously.

"No, come on, what...?"

"It's nothing - really. I was just... I dunno... I like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Tuck your hair back like that."

The Ravenclaw blushed slightly, "Oh. That's..." he paused and squeezed Harry's hand, "Thanks."

"So, what've you been up to? How's Simon?" Harry asked, realising that he hadn't even spoken to the other boy since the 'incident' before potions.

"He's... well, he's copin' as far as I know... Not been up t'much meself... Jus' tryin' t' practice, really... Hard wi' 'alf y' team missin', though..."

"Yeah, I guess it must be... I'm sorry so many of your friends were affected, Gav... it's horrible not knowing what to say to people... I mean, Neville's parents were killed, and it sounds horrible, but I'm glad I didn't see him before he left because... I'm just rubbish at things like that..."

"Is tha' the kid in your House wi' th' puddin' basin hair cut?"

"Yeah. Yeah... They were... They didn't know him. In the last war they were...tortured... a lot. They didn't know who he was... Don't say anything, though... But, y'know - I suppose it still hurts. If it was my parents it wouldn't have mattered that they didn't know me - they'd still be my parents, y'know what I mean?"

The older boy nodded solemnly and pulled him into a hug and stroked his hair, gently. "I know... You got me, though. An' I' got you..." He kissed the top of his head. All Harry could think of as he leaned up to kiss the other boy was just how close he had been to doing the same thing with Draco. He closed his eyes and willed the thoughts away, but somehow they just stuck.

"'Arry?"

"Yeah?"

"I were thinkin'... 's nearly Christmas now, innet?"

"Well, it's about six or seven weeks ..."

"Yeah... I know... but I were thinkin'... firs'ly, wha'd'you want, an' secondly... d'you think Sirius would let you come an' meet my mam an' dad?"

Harry stared up at him in surprise. "You want me to meet...?"

"Well," the other boy began, blushing and tucking his hair behind his ears again nervously, "I told 'em... about you. I didn' say who or anything, in case you didn' want me to, like, but... they know abou' you, now."

"I...well, I dunno... it's going to be the first Christmas we all spend at the cottage, so I dunno if..."

"Oh... oh, okay..." Gavin nodded, looking extremely disappointed. "I understand... It's a bit soon, maybe...?"

"No, Gavin, wait - I can ask, I just don't want you to get your hopes up. Things are all sort of weird at the moment, what with Wormtail being missing and everything..."

"D'you mind that I told them?" the Ravenclaw asked, uncertainly.

"Of course not!" Harry replied, squeezing him tightly. "They're your mum and dad, aren't they? And, mean, Sirius and Remus know... although they didn't really find out the best way..."

The other boy cringed and turned a shade pinker, "No, they really didn'... I think Sirius 'ates me, you know."

"Sirius? Why would he hate you?"

"Well... I jus' supposed tha' you told him - about wha' appened, like..."

"Um... yeah, I was...um... They know. But that doesn't mean-"

"Oh, I dunno... he jus' seems t' use me fer all th' really nasty curses in lessons an' he's taken abou' eighty points off me, the past few days..."

I'll kill him! "Nah, don't be silly - he doesn't hate you, I'm sure he doesn't. He's just... over protective."

"Well, I 'ope so. S'not exac'ly a good way t' start out, is it?"

"Well, no, but I'm sure he'll get over it. He just wants what's best for me. It's a bit of a complex, actually..."

The Ravenclaw gave him a strange grin and pushed the hair out of his face for him, his eyes slightly unfocused, "'Kay..."

"He does keep trying to change me. Just little bits. If he knew - if anyone knew you were still coming to Quidditch he'd go mental. I think he thinks I lack a sense of competition... and a sense of style... but then, everyone says that..."

"I think you're fine jus' th' way you are. I'd love you whatever clothes you wore, a'right?"

"W-what?" Harry choked out, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

The older boy stared at him, suddenly much paler. "I... I...I'm sorry... I dunno where that came from... It jus' sorta... slipped out..."

Harry stared at him, feeling as though he were floating outside himself and desperately wanting to thwap his physical self about the head and force him to react. "Y-you...? Do you...?"

Gavin stared back at him, looking slightly worried, "I... think..." he swallowed and looked away for a few moments before finally meeting Harry's eye again and nodding, "Yes," very quietly.

Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to smile or cry, so he merely buried his face in the other boy's shoulder and squeezed him as tightly as he could.

"'Arry?"

Harry didn't respond; he couldn't.

"'Arry? Are you alright? You don'... mind?"

Harry pulled back and gazed at him, "How could I mind?"

"I dunno... I jus' thought... maybe..."

"Don't be an idiot, of course I don't mind!"

"Really?"

"Really."

The Welsh boy gazed at him with the same misty look he had used earlier and gently stroked his face before tentatively leaning down and giving him a soft kiss; he moved away, studying him bashfully, and whispered, "I love you."

"Th...thank you."

The older boy's face fell noticeably, even though he clearly tried not to let his disappointment show. "You d-don' feel th' same, do you...?" he asked, looking down and at anything other than into Harry's eyes.

"Gavin..."

"You won't say it because you can't..."

There was a distinct shake in his voice this time and Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to lie to you, Gavin..."

The older boy started to remove himself carefully from the tangle of arms.

"Gavin -"

"It's... it's okay. I think I'd best... just... get out of here."

"No, don't run off - please."

"I need t' be alone..." Gavin said, accidentally catching his eye and turning away sharply. Harry could've sworn he had tears in his eyes.

He grasped both of the other boy's elbows and held the fabric of his robes tightly, "Don't just storm off - at least let me explain myself..."

"You don' n-need to," the other boy said, swallowing and still refusing to look at him. "I do understand, really... I were jus' stupid enough t' think you might, and I really need t' be alone..."

"Gavin, just because I don't think I do yet, doesn't mean I never will!"

The Ravenclaw looked at him for a moment before asking shakily, "Is this 'cause o' Malfoy? Because if you like him more you should jus' t-tell me. It's not fair if you don'." A single tear rolled out onto his lashes and was rubbed away with the heel of his hand as he looked away again, blushing redder with embarrassment.

Harry sighed miserably and tried to reach out to touch his face, his hair - anything - only to have his hand caught gently and pushed away. "Gavin, please don't be like that... it's nothing to do with Draco. I just... I don't understand what I feel at the moment. I've got a lot of things on my mind and I just-"

The older boy's breathing hitched and he said, "You're goin' t' break up wi' me, aren't you?" Another tear rolled down his face, accompanied by one from the other eye a moment later; he didn't bother wiping them away this time.

"No! No - not unless you want to..." Harry replied, feeling like a complete git. The last thing he'd wanted was to upset him - make him cry!

"I jus' told you l-love you!" the other boy sobbed incredulously, "Why would I w-want t' break up wi' y-you?"

"Because I'm an idiot, and I hurt you and I'm sorry...I'm so sorry... If I had known you'd be so upset I would have just said it to you!"

"What good's th-that if you don' m-mean it?"

Harry gave a helpless sigh, "Well - that's exactly my point... I don't want to lie to you, but I really, really care about you and I feel like a complete...arsehole for making you this upset! I'm really sorry, Gavin, honestly..."

"Okay, whatever..." the other boy sniffed, swallowing and trying to dry his face on the back of his hand.

"You do mean a lot to me, you know," Harry told him softly, trying to induce some sort of meaningful contact and being refused again.

"Jus' no' enough, apparen'ly."

"You don't know that any more than I do..."

"I know tha' I told you I love you an' you told me you don' love me back."

"That's not what I said! I said I don't know how I feel!" Harry replied in exasperation, "How am I meant to even know what it's like to love someone? It's not like I was adopted when my parents were murdered - I was just dumped on people that hated my guts! Do you have any bloody idea how weird it is to suddenly have all these people around me who claim to love me, platonically or otherwise? It's scary! It's bloody scary because I've got so much to lose... Everyone I've ever been close to has had really bad things happen to them. Maybe I'm just too scared to love anyone because I don't want them to die!"

"It's jus' one o' those things, 'Arry! You jus' know when you fall in love, tha's all - you jus' know."

"Well maybe I'll never realise it," Harry argued despondently, "Because I've got two really, really great people who claim that they're in love with me and I can't even feel like it back. I'm useless and pathetic and I don't understand why you have to feel this way about a prat like me..."

"You say it as if the f-fact I do is a curse or somethin'!" Gavin said, his voice growing shakier again, "For God's sake, if you don' w-want t' go out wi' me any m-more jus' say so 'cause it's funny how it always comes b-back to Malfoy."

"D'you know what? There's a big part of this that is about trust, Gavin. You obviously don't trust me or you wouldn't have to keep bringing Draco into it! And after the other night how do you expect me to trust you?"

The other boy looked like he had been slapped. He pressed his lips together to stop them quivering and swallowed several times. "I made a mistake," he said, "I made a stupid, stupid mistake tha' meant nothin'. You're th' one who can't keep away from tha' jumped-up little Slytherin brat. What else d'you expect me t' think when 'alf the time I wan' t' spend wi' you you're off studying or whatever it is you say you do, wi' him?"

"He - is - my - friend!" Harry insisted, shaking his head helplessly and trying to ignore the little voice that was cruelly muttering, a friend you came very close to kissing, last night... He dismissed it sharply and reminded himself that if the moon had looked like that on Ron he probably would have thought it was pretty, too, but that meant absolutely nothing.

Gavin looked at him and continued to fight back tears, "Well, maybe if we were jus' friends you'd wan' t' spend more time wi' me, too..."

"Gavin, I don't want to be friends with you!" Harry said, starting to feel tears prickle at his own eyes and angrily refusing to allow them any chance of falling, "I want to be your boyfriend! I care about you and just because I don't want to say something I don't understand, yet, it doesn't mean I want to break up with you! It doesn't." He reached out to take the other boy's hands and although they were pulled away the first time, he was allowed to keep a hold of them when he persisted.

"I c-can' 'elp bein' jealous..." Gavin said, miserably. "I jus' wish I meant as much t'you as... as he does."

"You do!" Harry insisted immediately. "Gavin, I can like people differently. I like him differently to the way I like you - I promise. He knows that and I know that and you've got to believe me."

The older boy stared down at their joined hands, rubbing his thumbs across the tops of Harry's knuckles, "I' never felt like this abou' anyone, 'Arry. Never."

Harry bit back the urge to ask if that included Claudia McKnight. "I've never felt like this either. It's weird and I'm not used to it..."

Gavin looked at him with a certain level of uncertain hope in his eyes, "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"I told my parents about you..." he said after a moment.

"I know, you asked me to come and visit at Christmas."

"No, you don' understand - they didn' know. They didn' know any of it," he explained earnestly, his voice now considerably less shaky but still tinged with embarrassment. "I 'ad a girlfrien' once. Jus' for a while when I were fourteen; Emillene Mills... They all still think I like girls. I mean - they thought I did. Redburgh knows I don't. He 'eard me tellin' Si' about you ages ago... That's why 'e calls me 'Hilly', see? Like 'Up-Hill Gardener'... He were so 'orrible I thought my mam an' dad would be jus' the' same an' 'ate me for it. Never mind Jack..."

"But they weren't, were they?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, no, mam were fine and dad jus' sorta pretends it's normal, an' Jack... Mam says Jack'll get used to it," he said with a sort of forced optimism. "But what I'm tryin' t'say is... I thought they'd react really badly but-"

"Well why the hell did you tell them, then, you soppy git?" Harry laughed gently, raising his left hand and kissing the knuckles of the other boy's right.

"Because I'm proud o' you..." he admitted quietly.

Harry looked up and gazed into the other boy's eyes; his cheeks were red and he looked incredibly vulnerable. "Oh... Gav... that's so sweet..." he murmured, feeling slightly overwhelmed himself.

"It's the truth."

Harry chewed at his lip and buried his face in the other boy's chest, nuzzling against him and squeezing tightly, glad not to be pushed away again and even more grateful when he felt the other boy begin to cuddle him back. He gave a deep sigh and whispered, "As soon as I know, I'll tell you."

A week passed and Harry made a conscious effort to spend time with Gavin. It was difficult, trying to fit in Quidditch practise three nights a week, prefect duties, homework and revision for the mock exams at the beginning of December, but he managed it by staying up in the freezing stands long after it got dark or creeping out in the middle of the night for what was beginning to feel like a clandestine love affair straight from a 1930s romance novel. Although rather less elegant and rather more gay. Their nightly meetings had comprised of more tentative fumblings and a considerable amount of sitting curled up in corners of abandoned classrooms, merely cuddling under the invisibility cloak. He was certainly starting to feel closer to the other boy and had failed to see Draco outside of their regular weekly hour in the safe room. He felt guilty, but he kept reminding himself that he had a relationship he was neglecting and desperate times called for desperate measures. However, even after a week of intensive bond-forming he still wasn't sure what he felt. He expected it to take time, but he was still afraid of hurting the other boy, so he had decided that he would go ahead and ask for the opinion of the one person he could trust not to go off the rails at him. Hedwig hadn't had an awful lot to say, though, so he had finally accepted that he would have to turn to the only person he could probably trust not to go off the rails at him; Remus.

Remus had a fair amount of time on his hands, now that his department had been put out of action. He'd explained that the Public Awareness of Magical Afflictions department wasn't considered 'important' enough by the Ministry big wigs to be moved and reinstated elsewhere in the ministry buildings; there had been a distinct air of bitterness in his usually soft voice when he had said that. Harry was glad for him, though. He seemed to have been growing progressively more worn out in recent weeks and he thought the rest would do him good.

Harry let himself in through the back door and wandered into the living room. Remus was lying across the floral-patterned sofa, reading yet another book. He wondered how he never got bored of them.

"Hiya..." Harry said, glad that Remus was alone. He never seemed to relax properly when Sirius was there. Harry suspected it was probably for fear of having some kind of prank pulled on him.

"Hello," Remus smiled languidly. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." Harry began awkwardly, rubbing his hands together, "Is Padfoot here?"

"No, he's up at the castle. Probably in his office..."

"Good. I need to talk to you."

Remus frowned a little and sat up, "What's wrong?"

"Er..."

"Harry? Are you alright?"

"I think so..."

"Is your scar hurting?" Remus asked, almost with a hint of hopefulness, Harry thought vaguely. Must be his imagination.

"No, not really," he shrugged, "No more than usual. I just... need to talk."

The fair-haired man breathed in slowly and appeared to steel himself for the conversation, "Of course, have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Um... No thanks."

"Am I going to need some tea?"

"I'd say something a bit stronger, probably..."

"Oh. Lovely," Remus said with a laugh before sobering rapidly and asking, "Are you serious about that drink?"

"Only if I can have one, too."

"Well, I suppose not then. So... what's the matter?"

Harry grimaced and wondered where to begin. "Remus, what's it like to be in love?" he asked, finally.

Remus seemed to freeze for a moment, caught off balance. He swallowed and looked at Harry guardedly, "That's an... interesting question," he said slowly. "Any particular reason you'd like to know?"

"Sort of..."

"Go on..."

"Well... Gavin said he... Gavin said he loves me and I was wondering what it feels like so I know if I feel the same."

"I see."

"I mean, I really, really like him and I know that I care about him a lot and I want to be able to tell him I do, but not if I don't really mean it."

"Well," Remus nodded slowly, "that's very conscientious and really quite wise of you..."

"I just... I want to. But I don't want to pretend."

"That's completely understandable. So, what brought all this on?"

Harry grimaced again, slightly. "He said he told his parents he's... y'know... just because of me. He said he's proud of me," Harry said, suddenly aware that he was grinning to himself and tugging at the piping on the edge of the sofa. "He'd like me to... well, he'd like me to go and meet his parents at Christmas... I mean, I said I'd have to ask and all that, but... well, I want to sort this out now? And, y'know - do you think it'd be okay if I went?"

Remus sat looking at him thoughtfully for a moment before giving a slight wince and replying, "I'm really not sure, Harry... things have become really quite dangerous. And at risk of sounding selfish, Sirius and I were rather hoping we could spend Christmas together - as a family..."

"But... I don't have to go for the whole holiday! I could just go for a night - just a day, even - for tea, perhaps..."

Remus gazed at him regretfully and sighed, "I'll have to think about it. I don't want anything to happen to you, Harry. Neither would Sirius."

"I know, but if you or Sirius could take me... They only live in Wales!"

"And that, of course is just down the road," he teased, giving him a dubious look.

"Well - I could go by floo - or you could apparate down there and pick me up after..."

"You're really quite keen to go, aren't you?"

"Well, quite, yeah..." Harry admitted. "Gavin and I are getting quite close and stuff... I want to do what will please him and he wants me to meet his mum and dad."

Remus nodded slowly, "Am I to read from this that things are becoming...serious, between you?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He supposed they were, but he could tell from the tone of Remus' voice that he was concerned and probably rather worried about whether they were likely to be left alone together for any length of time. He settled for another shrug.

"Harry," Remus sighed, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder, "I'm not trying to lecture you or judge you, but you're young, and however patronising that sounds, it's true. Don't you think you're rushing it a little bit?"

"No..."

"It has been...what? Two months?"

Harry nodded.

"I know that probably feels like absolutely eons, but in truth, it's a tiny amount of time." He held up a silencing hand as Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, and continued, "Now, I don't want to discourage you. I have to admit that Gavin isn't really in my good books at the moment, but what you see in him is your business and I respect that. I just want to be sure you aren't going to get yourself more deeply involved than you're ready to be. Don't rush things because you can't turn the clock back."

"You're worried that we're going to sleep together!" Harry said, blushing. "Moony!"

"That isn't what I'm saying, not really..."

"I like Gavin a lot, I really do but... That's not the point of going to his house or anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! It's just to meet his mum and dad, that's all. At least, I think it is. Yeah. Yeah, that's all it is."

"I don't think you sound too certain, Harry."

"Well, I mean, it's not like we've talked about it... I don't know. I don't think that's the point, though, honestly."

Remus studied him pensively for a few moments before looking him straight in the eye and saying, "Let me tell you something; I held onto my virginity until I was nearly twenty-one, and when I finally lost it, it was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. I was drunk, to all intents and purposes it was a one night stand - even though I cared about the other person very, very much - and the next day I couldn't even remember it. It was only circumstances that made it obvious and it could have absolutely ruined my life. If I could change what happened I'd give anything to do so. Rites of passage are meant to be memorable for good reasons, not because you regret them."

Harry stared at him, caught between a mixture of sympathy, bemusement and absolute horror at being told something like that by his godfather. It probably wouldn't even have been that bad if it had been Sirius but Remus... He shuddered inwardly.

"We'll I wouldn't anyway, not yet-"

"Yes, well, I never intended to at that particular point in time, either, but there you go. Sometimes things happen on the spur of the moment and-"

"Moony! Please! I don't want to know about that. I mean, thanks for trying to help and everything, but... Yuk! You're like my mother or something! I don't want to know about that!" Harry protested, raising a small smile to his guardian's lips.

"Yes, maybe you're right... Not all points need to be backed up by examples, I suppose."

"You could have said it happened to a friend or something. Someone I'm not related to!"

Remus laughed and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cringe. I just want to make sure you don't do something you regret because you really can't get something like that back once it's gone."

"Well... I mean, what if I actually wanted to? Like, if - and I only mean if - " Harry said, making sure he emphasised the hypothetical nature of the question in hope that he wouldn't be gifted with more details of Remus' sex-life, " - we talked about it and stuff and thought that it would be a good idea... What then?"

Remus looked vaguely uncomfortable with the idea, but sighed, "That's down to you. It's illegal though."

"Illegal?"

"Yes, you aren't really allowed to until you're eighteen. It was twenty-one back then... which technically means we broke the law, actually."

"Twenty-one?"

"Well, yes - it was barely even legal then."

"What are you on about? How can it have been illegal?"

"My sentiments exactly, but as far as the law was concerned sex was for straight married couples and the free sixties were long gone by then-"

"Oh my God!"

Remus looked at him warily, "Are you having a moment of outrage at social bigotry or have you just realised something I thought you already knew?"

"You're gay? Like me?" Harry asked in alarm, "But - how did you expect me to know that?"

"Well, firstly, I told you when you told me. I told you that your parents accepted me and they would have accepted you, too," Remus explained.

"I thought you meant being a werewolf!"

"Oh," Remus mused, "Yes... now you come to mention it I can see how you would think that. But really, Harry, it's not exactly a difficult assumption to make. Goodness knows enough people do."

"What?"

"How often does Sirius tell me I'm an old woman in front of you?"

"All the time, but-"

"Doesn't it strike you as a little odd that you consider me to be like a mother figure to you, as opposed to the more obvious father figure?"

"But you're more like a mum to me!" Harry replied, before adding, "Oh... well, actually..."

"Harry, we're going off on a tangent. We were talking about you, not me..."

"I... yeah, alright.... So, I mean - what happens if you do? Is it like underage magic? They don't have sort of... spies, do they?" Harry asked worriedly, his head suddenly full of all the minor activities he had taken part in of late and whether there might be some sort of points system - so many strikes and you're out or something. He turned suitably red.

Remus obviously noted his embarrassment and with a mixture of amusement and concern he said, "I doubt it. I think that would be considered illegal, too."

"Oh. Good."

"Harry?" Remus began suspiciously, "I hope that isn't a law you've already come close to breaking..."

"No! No, I promise it isn't."

"Good... I'd prefer not to have told you everything I just did for nothing..." Remus replied, relaxing slightly. "You know, it's actually quite reassuring that you had no idea. I was starting to think I was becoming a cliché."

"You're not going to start flower arranging, are you?"

"No."

"Cool."

"Nor knitting, if you need any reassurance."

Harry gave a small chuckle, waiting for the information to sink in. Moony is gay. He likes blokes. Sirius can't mind or they wouldn't live together. He can't mind that I am, either, then? I can't believe Moony's gay...

"Can I ask you something, Moony?"

"Of course you can," Remus smiled, standing up and setting his book down on the table.

"How did it feel when you fell in love? I mean, it's what I came here to find out..."

The fair-haired man stopped, and from the way his shoulders slumped slightly Harry thought it was a question he must have thought he'd avoided.

"It was a long time ago," he sighed. "A very long time. It almost feels like all the good parts are eclipsed by what came afterward. There is no way I could actually describe it, anyway. When you fall in love you won't have to ask; you'll just know."

It was dark when Sirius got home. He walked into the cottage to find it completely blacked out; not a single light was on. "Moony?" he called, starting to worry more each second. It was far too early for even Remus to have gone to bed, so where the hell was he? Why weren't the lights on? He ran upstairs, checked all the bedrooms and raced back down and through the living room to the kitchen. He nearly jumped out of his wits when he saw a figure hunched on the work surface beneath the window. "Moony! Fucking hell, you scared me!"

"Sorry," the other man said quietly, staring into the tea in his hands.

"Moo?" Sirius ventured, walking a few steps nearer hesitantly, "What's the matter? Has something happened? Did you go and visit 'Nifer?" The thin figure sitting in the moonlight shook his head. Sirius stared at him for a moment, wondering. There was something familiar, here. This was bringing back fragments of memories, something he knew he'd thought of recently, but couldn't quite place. "Remus? Remy, what's wrong?" he asked again, moving forward again until he was leaning against the work surface beside him.

"I was just thinking..."

"Really?" he asked softly, "What about?"

"Us. How we used to be..."

In a flash, the memory was there; the morning after James' stag night. He had sat on the side at the flat and stared out of the window just like this. "What brought this on, then, Moo?" he prompted, knowing that the last time he had found him like this Remus had been deeply unhappy.

"Harry came around today," the other man told him, his voice still quieter and more pensive than usual. "He wanted to know what it's like to be in love..."

Sirius frowned, "Did he? He doesn't reckon he's in love with the Welsh kid, does he? Bloody Potters. What is it with them and taffs?"

"He doesn't think he's in love, Sirius. Not yet."

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him he'd just know."

Sirius studied him for a minute and wondered where this was heading. "Did you 'just know'?" he asked.

"I always knew. I just didn't label it."

He reached out to brush the fair hair out of the other man's face, and found himself asking, "Do you still know, then?"

Remus ducked back from his touch, "Don't," he said. "I can't deal with this at the moment."

"Deal with what? Remus, what is the bloody matter with you? Can't I even fucking touch you any more without you shoving me away?" Sirius half-yelled in frustration. He had tried to provoke the other man into some kind of reaction, tried to make him acknowledge what they used to be, and all he had received was continuous knock backs. He couldn't bear the frustration. He didn't understand what was so difficult for him, why he felt the need to distance himself when they both knew that they loved one another. They had wasted enough time already - why did he have to insist upon wasting even more?

"You're always pawing at me, Sirius. I don't like it. I'm not just here for you to play with. I'm starting to feel like an inflatable."

Sirius stared at him in disbelief, "How can you fucking say that? How could you even think this is about sex?"

"Because I remember being twenty years old and how your selfishness could have ruined my life." His voice was matter-of-fact, almost cold.

"What?"

"You got me drunk, don't you remember? You spiked my drinks because you knew I would never have drunk that much if you hadn't and you... You didn't know how I felt and all you were planning to do was use me-"

"How can you fucking say that? How, Moony? I did it because of the way I fucking felt! And from what I remember - and I do fucking remember - you were hardly complaining. I'd never have made you do anything you didn't want to! I can't believe what you're fucking saying!"

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I just cannot let that sort of thing happen again. I'd waited all that time and when finally... when we..." Remus put his head in his hands and murmured, "I couldn't even remember."

Sirius stared at him. He wanted to do something - reach out, comfort him in some way - but clearly, this was not what Remus wanted. "I loved you. That's why I did it, Moony. It wasn't some sort of fucking joke. All I was going to do was kiss you and blame it on the drink. You were the one who encouraged me."

"I wouldn't have if I had been sober..."

"Yeah, and then we would never have said anything to each other and we would both have been completely fucking miserable over nothing! What the hell does this have to do with things, anyway, huh? What I did when I was a kid and what I do now -"

"You may as well be a kid, Sirius! Don't you realise that? You act like a child - like a kid of Harry's age - and I can't... I just can't..."

Sirius stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing, "You reckon I act like what?"

"Like a child, Sirius," Remus told him wearily, "like a child."

"You know what? I'm not the fucking one who's acting like a child, here, Moony. I'm not the one throwing a tantrum about something that happened years ago or -"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum. I just asked you not to abuse the fact that I am feeling incredibly miserable. You're the one shouting, Sirius. You're the one who can't stop acting as though you're hard done by. What do you actually do with your life? Could you look after yourself if I wasn't here to look after you? No, you couldn't, Sirius, you just couldn't."

"Oh hello, Remus, you self-righteous prat, in case you'd fucking forgotten, I was still living at home with my parents when I was chucked in fucking Azkaban. The only time since then that I've been free and not living here I was forced to live on rats in a fucking cave-"

"You enjoy eating rats!"

"Oh yeah. Haute fucking cuisine!" Sirius replied sarcastically. "You're meant to be fucking intelligent, Remus! Use your fucking loaf, will you?"

"I know it's about Peter! But it's not the point-"

"No, it's fucking not. The fucking point, Moony, is that you're fucking acting as though I spend all my life trying to molest you! Don't you understand that-"

"Don't you understand? Don't you even try, Sirius? You are like a child! How can I possibly allow myself to become involved with someone who needs me like they need a parent? You aren't even emotionally capable of that sort of relationship-!"

Sirius stared at him, feeling like he had just been punched.

"God, Sirius, it's times like this I wish I could still drink!"

"Still what?"

Remus froze, before wrapping his arms around himself and half turning away, "Nothing."

"You just said... Why the fuck can't you drink?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I fucking do. Why can't you drink?"

"Leave it, Sirius," the other man said warningly, but Sirius didn't care, he was sick of not knowing things that affected him, sick of everything being a string of secrets that he was only allowed to hear of when other people made mistakes.

"No."

"I'm asking you to drop it, please."

"WHAT-FUCKING-HAPPENED?"

"YOU DID!"

They both remained frozen in shock for a moment, neither quite sure if this was real. Remus had just bellowed at the top of his lungs, something that, in all his memories, Sirius could not remember him doing once. "What...?" he asked, feeling as though his throat were closing up.

Remus slumped back against the cupboards defeatedly, "You did...you happened. It happened -- everything happened. I couldn't cope, alright? I just could cope..."

"So what're you saying, Moo? What's that got to fuckin- Wait. Fucking wait - you're trying to tell me... Oh, for fuck's sake, Remus!" Realisation dawned and Sirius turned and struck the table hard with the palm of his hand.

"Do you think I meant for it to happen, Sirius?"

"How could you be that fucking stupid? It's fucking - fucking...FUCK, Remus!"

"I was alone. Completely alone. All I had to do every night was sit by myself in a flat that was... that was so full of you... except you weren't there. All I wanted was to just forget... Once, twice... I just got to the stage where I couldn't do without it. I was frightened, Sirius... Frightened of being alone and frightened of other people because they knew what I was - everyone found out afterwards. The news of the 'great betrayal' of the Potters by their best friend was everywhere. They thought I was part of it, did you know that? They interrogated me for hours and hours and it was in the paper and everyone thought I must be guilty because I'm a werewolf and I had no one on my side and all I wanted to do was forget, numb it out, even for a little while and I just... I saw what I was doing and I didn't care. I couldn't care. How could it matter when James, Lily and Peter were dead and everyone was saying... saying that you had killed them?"

Sirius gazed down at the curled-up figure on the work surface, feeling as though he could almost cry. What the hell had happened to them? They couldn't even talk. "You should have told me."

"You didn't need to know."

"Don't be so bloody ridiculous! Of course I fucking did."

"You didn't need to know because I didn't think you were ready for my problems. Sirius, you've been through so much-"

"You've been fucking molly coddling me since the day I arrived and you tell me I'm acting like a kid? God, Moony, is it any fucking surprise?"

"I just wanted to protect you..."

"Well what about looking after yourself you idiot?" Sirius asked, partly angry, partly longing to go over and pull him into a fierce embrace.

"I didn't have the time."

"You should have made time! Fuck. Were you always this much of a bloody martyr?"

"I'm not a martyr."

"You need someone, too, for fuck's sake! You can't just cope with all this shit on your own!" Sirius told him, walking over and forcing him to raise his head and look at him. "I'm a fucking adult, Moony. I can look after myself..." Remus gave him a despondent, doubtful look and he corrected, "- well, I can almost look after myself. I'm not a fragile little flower or something. You have to let me fucking share this with you. I know you - I know what you're like - you'll end up going fucking mad!"

"I've managed so far."

"Have you? So what's this about, eh? What's with this shit you've been telling me about hitting the fucking bottle, eh?" Remus looked suitably castigated. "You can't fucking cope on your own, no matter how much to tell yourself otherwise and you shouldn't bloody well have to! I'm here! I want you and me to be there for Harry and do it together. I don't want us to fucking avoid each other! Fucking hell, Moony - wasn't that the point of me coming here?"

Remus didn't answer; he merely buried his face in his knees and shrugged his narrow shoulders half-heartedly. Sirius looked at the sorry, fragile-looking form and decided that enough was enough. He pried the other man's fingers from where they were wrapped around his knees, clutching his upper arms, and slid his own arms around him. Moony, don't push me away... I can't fucking stand it.

I can't go through it again, Siri, I can't.

You won't have to! I'm not going anywhere - not without you. It was with great relief that Sirius felt Remus uncurl himself so that his legs hung over the edge of the work surface, either side of Sirius' hips, and bury his face in his shoulder. Sirius squeezed him gently and kissed the top of his head. "God, I've missed you," he whispered, so intensely glad of the simple contact that he had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze so tight he crushed him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, either. Minutes earlier Remus had been telling him that he was like a child, but here they were, almost like a parent comforting an infant, and Sirius wasn't the one who needed looking after, this time.

"I love you," he whispered into the soft, sandy locks, "and this has never been about getting laid. Never. I just wanted you back, Moo, and I didn't know how to do it. You do understand that, don't you? I know I'm a fucking stupid, insensitive arsehole, sometimes, but I never mean to hurt you. You mean everything to me and yet... you've grown up. You're my Moony, but you're different, now, and I don't know what this new Moony wants. I just wanted this. I just fucking wanted us to be close again."

From somewhere beneath his chin, he heard the soft, faintly Scots voice murmur, "I'm sorry..." and he thought of all the times he had been the one apologising. They would all tease each other when they were younger; James' glasses, Peter's diets, Sirius' hairy legs, Remus's studiousness, and also his absence of any distinguishable accent. It was something Sirius hadn't thought much about until he had overheard Lily scolding James about it. 'Don't you realise, you silly great idiot, that it's a part of who he is? He doesn't know where he's from - it could be anywhere! It's nature over nurture and he doesn't know where he came from. You can be such a moron sometimes, James Potter!'

Lily had been right about so many things. She was perceptive like that and Remus had always adored her, even when the others had hated her. It was how she and James ended up first friends and then an item and then... parents. Remus was like Harry, in a sense, he didn't have the firm, definite roots that some of them took for granted. Sirius knew that his father's family came from Ireland and his mother's from the Nevada desert. He knew all about the tribe his great-great-grandparents had been members of. All his life, Remus had had his foundations hidden from him. It was no surprise that he was so afraid of allowing himself to become close to anyone when every time he did they were taken from him. Two sets of parents, his friends... everyone.

And yet, Remus' voice was one of the most beautiful things about him. It never stayed with one particular accent and could go from a soft, rolling Highland like his adoptive mother, to southern like Sirius or James's or sometimes almost a lilting Welsh like Lily's or comic Brummie drawl like Peter's all in the space of a few sentences. But it was beautiful. It could be so soothing and gentle, or reassuringly calm and in control. And it was familiar, even if it changed so much.

"Don't be sorry, Moo," Sirius whispered back, now painfully sensitive to his own harsh consonants and slightly shortened vowels. "Just stop trying to be so fucking brave."

Remus pulled away gently and looked at him, shakily raising a hand to comb it through Sirius's untidy black hair. He seemed off-colour, as though tired and frustrated and almost on the verge of tears. His hands felt cold as he stroked Sirius's face. "I never thought we'd have a chance like this again," he said, his voice slightly shaky and thick with repressed emotion. "I can't get used to the idea of you really being here, Siri. I tried as hard as I could not to hope for it..."

"Well I am. And this time I promise not to go anywhere. At least no further than the pub, eh?" Sirius joked, raising his own hand to tangle it in the soft, sandy locks of the other man.

"You've just got to give me time, Paddy..."

"I know, Moo, and I will, I promise."

"I waited for you," Remus whispered, still sounding embarrassed by the fact.

Sirius gently pulled his forward and rested his cheek against the side of his head, "I know, Moony, I know..."

Remus carefully leaned back a little, manoeuvring them into a position where their foreheads rested together and Sirius could see strands of his own hair falling into Remus's eyes. For a moment they nuzzled close to each other, and then, almost accidentally, their lips brushed together and in the next moment they were locked together in their first real kiss for more than fourteen years. Sirius wasn't sure if he'd ever been this happy.

It was not a kiss that was particularly passionate, but it was intense in its significance and it felt, just for a few moments, like fourteen wasted years had been worth it. When they broke away Sirius found himself feeling oddly satiated, something he didn't remember ever feeling after something as trivial as a kiss. But this kiss wasn't trivial. This kiss meant everything was going to be alright and nothing could possibly matter less than sex did at that moment because he just wanted to cling to him for as long as he could. The logistics of sex would probably restrict his ability to do that.

"Come on," he said, pulling him gently until he slid off of the work surface and stood on the rough flagstone floor.

"Siri, I can't... I'm not ready to-"

"Shh," he said giving him a reassuring kiss on the forehead, "I'm not trying it on. It's just uncomfortable out here, I just want to go and sit down, alright?"

Remus nodded and allowed himself to be led through into the living room and pulled down onto the sofa, where he was soon nestled into Sirius' shoulder again, both arms and one leg wrapped around him. They didn't move until morning.

Chapter ~ XI - To be continued...

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