Venture

(Author's Note: Ten points to whichever house figures out what 'DMLE' stands for.)

It was only two days before Harry's phone startled him out of sleep again. He rolled painfully off the couch - he hadn't meant to fall asleep in front of the telly, and was startled to realize it was on that channel. He scrambled for his remote.

Just as he managed to get the telly off, his answering machine picked up.

"Harry?"

It was Hermione. Harry climbed unsteadily to his feet, wincing as his back ached. Landing on it hadn't done any good, certainly.

"Harry, are you there? Please pick up - it's Remus -"

Harry's blood ran cold. He dove for the phone, knocking the cradle to the floor and almost dropping the receiver. "What happened to him?"

"Harry?"

"Yes, it's me, Hermione -"

"He's okay," she said reassuringly, "he's okay, Harry calm down. I didn't mean to alarm you - he's fine, he's here at St. Mungo's, in stable condition. Calm down."

Harry was trying to do just that, but he felt like he'd been electrocuted. He sat unsteadily on the arm of the couch. "What happened?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I know that DMLE isn't open yet - I figured there wasn't any use in calling them, so I called you."

"What -" Harry scrubbed his hand over his face. "What're his - how did you - fuck it, I'll just come to Mungo's. You're sure he's all right?"

Hermione sounded worried. "I'm positive. Just calm down, Harry."

He didn't think that was possible. His heart was jack hammering in his ribs, as fast and hard as a werewolf's heart. He felt like he was swimming in deep water.

"I'll be there soon," Harry promised.

"Okay. I'll see you."

Harry nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him, and hung up the phone. He dressed hurriedly, struggling to take Hermione's words to heart.

He should have known. He should have done something. For Christ's sake, he was Harry Potter. He should have known.

He Apparated directly into St. Mungo's, which was technically illegal, but he doubted anyone was going to arrest him. There was a line for of the information desk. He eyed it apprehensively, wondering if his fame was great enough that he could cut or just bully his way to the front.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Harry."

He whirled around. "Ron! Where is he?"

Ron glanced at his disheveled clothes and messy hair, and decided not to ask. "I'll show you."

They walked quickly but silently, Harry choking back a shout of rage every time someone got in his way. Ron's hand on his elbow guided him through the crowded halls, his dark eyes looked at Harry as if he was trying to send Hermione's assurances telepathically. It didn't do any good.

Finally, Ron stopped Harry and opened a door. "He has his own room," Ron said. "The medics aren't sure what . . ."

Harry tuned him out. Hermione turned from where she was hovering by a bed, and then sighed. "Harry."

Harry went mutely to her side, feeling his heart slow at last. Remus was lying in the bed, on his back, blankets pulled up. He was clearly unconscious. The lines of his careworn face were emphasized in the dim lighting. Harry touching his hand, wrapped his fingers around his wrist, and felt the too-fast heart faltering in it's beat.

Something in the back of his mind was frozen with fear. Oughtn't his heartbeat be steady?

"Harry," Hermione said again, sounding desperately sorry.

Harry felt very cold.

"You said he was stable," he said slowly, tearing his eyes from Remus' face to glare at her.

She pressed her lips together. Ron came to her side, slipping his arm around her waist. "I told her to lie."

Harry sat on the edge of Remus' bed, forcing himself to look away from his friends. Remus seemed almost battered, broken. He was too pale, his lips were bluish. When Harry glanced down at his hand, he saw that his fingertips, too, were discolored. His own trembling fingers wrapped themselves around Remus' cold hands.

Violent despair tore at him. Remus couldn't die. He couldn't.

Hermione's gripped his shoulder. "Harry, your investigation . . ."

"Nothing," Harry said numbly. "We haven't found anything. I could give you a list of people I know haven't done anything, but that's it."

Hermione sighed. Ron said, "What about the department?"

"I doubt that they'll care," Hermione said bitterly. "Just like the medics."

Harry nodded. He remembered how willingly people turned their backs on Remus, due to his curse - he remembered it from the war, and the few times that Remus had been injured. He'd always gone to Hogwarts to recover, but with Pomfrey retired, there wouldn't be anything that Dumbledore could do. The new nurse was about as useful as a Muggle doctor in a case like this.

"There has to be something -" Ron stopped himself. When Harry glanced at him, he found Ron looking at him anxiously. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Tell me what happened," Harry said quietly to Hermione. He struggled to remember how calm Remus could be, no matter how difficult things were, clenching the man's hand tightly.

Hermione took a deep breath and sat beside him on the bed, facing him fully. She told him quickly how she had arrived at work, expecting Remus to have filed a series of reports, and finding their absence odd. She questioned Clarice, who told her that Remus had taken the paperwork home to work on it overnight, and that he'd promised to have it in by morning. Concerned, she Apparated to his apartment, and knocked to the door. When no one answered after twenty minutes, she broke the door - enchanted five different ways, and with a strong Muggle lock, at that - and found Remus on the floor, unconscious.

Harry trembled as she recited her narrative, although he was fairly certain he managed to hide it. Ron's hand on his shoulder revealed that he hadn't; but then, it was futile trying to hide things from Ron.

"Did you take any notice of his vital signs?" Harry asked wearily. "Heart rate, body temperature . . ."

Hermione shook her head. "I brought him here," she said. "The medics would have . . . I don't know if they wrote them down, though."

"I'll check," Ron volunteered, and vanished out the door.

"How did Ron get here?" Harry asked.

"I called him, of course." Hermione swallowed. "I was frightened. Harry, are you all right?"

He could lie.

"No."

"You look dreadfully pale."

Harry glanced down at Remus. His richly colored hair, vibrant even with the threads of gray in it, shone in stark contrast to the white of his face. Harry longed to touch it again, as he had dared only once.

"That's to be expected," he said dully, and released Remus' hand when the medic entered.

She answered Harry's questions briskly enough, and he sent her away. Puzzling over this new information, Harry pressed his fingers to Remus' pulse and counted the beats.

Ron and Hermione were silent. When Harry drew his hand away, Hermione said, "Well?"

"It sounds like Adducere Somnus," Harry said, amazed at how steady his voice sounded.

"I don't recognize that one," Hermione said, suddenly much calmer. "What is it?"

"It's a Sleeping Curse, a bit like the Draught of Living Death." Harry felt a bit calmer as he recited textbook information; he really ought to keep that in mind for future reference. "It sends the victim into a deep sleep that grows steadily worse, until their vital signs register death."

"Stasis," Hermione said, nodding. "It leaves them in stasis until . . ."

"Until whatever focus the spell caster has is found and removed from their possession." Harry gave into his desire and brushed his fingers against Remus' hair, watching the short locks bend against his fingers. "The spell is untraceable, and irremovable by any outside magic. It's . . ." He paused. "It's a very ancient magic," he said, his scar burning as if reminded of the ancient magic that saved his life once. "Very difficult to perform."

Hermione blew out an anxious sigh. "Is it Dark?"

"I don't believe it's ever been classified." His hair was so soft. Harry wished passionately that he would just wake up. "DMLE won't get involved."

There was a tense silence. Eventually, Harry left his hand fall to his side. He stared pensively out a tiny window, his mind racing.

Eventually, he turned back to Hermione. "Is there anyone in your department who could cast a spell of this magnitude?" he asked.

She shook her head instantly. "Perhaps Ginny," she said. "But she's -"

"Not a suspect," Harry agreed. "Do you . . ." He bit his lip. "Has anything of Remus' (...) gone missing lately?"

She shrugged. "If it did, he hasn't mentioned it to me."

Harry nodded. "Can you let me into the department?" he asked. "So I can take a look around?"

"Of course." She turned to Ron. "Will you -"

"I'll stay," Ron said. He'd been reading some of the notes that the medic had left. "Harry, Remus' heart rate isn't just decreasing. It's going back and forth -"

"I know," Harry said softly, brushing past him. "Whoever cast the spell cast it badly."

Hermione followed on his heels as he navigated the hallway. Anyone who got in his way got out of it, quickly, at just a single searing glance.

"Is that dangerous?" Hermione called, grabbing his elbow to keep up. "That they didn't know how to cast the spell?"

"Yes," Harry answered shortly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

Hermione watched him as he began searching the department. He was very thorough.

She was terribly conscious of the people watching, hurrying to get out of his way, as well as the mess he was making. He'd claimed to be on DMLE business. It was only a matter of time before someone checked his story or figured out that he wasn't.

Harry didn't seem to care. When every single drawer in the department had been upended, it's contents searched, he stopped and stood over the mess, eyes unfocused.

Tentatively, Hermione approached him. "Harry?"

He was nodding to himself, lips moving.

"Harry?"

He glanced at her suddenly, piercing her with his gaze. The air seemed to vibrate around him. Her breath caught in her throat - no matter how many times she felt that terrifying, intoxicating aura of power around him, it never failed to startle her. He was a grown man, certainly. But one who faced Voldemort alone.

"Clarice," he said, voice rough. He sounded a bit like Remus. "I need to talk to her."

Hermione tore her eyes from his shockingly green ones and glanced at the huddle of people on the other side of the room. "Clarice?"

The woman stepped forward. She was shaking, Hermione realized, her hair clinging to her forehead and throat with sweat. She kept her eyes downtrend and shied away from Harry. Of course she felt the aura of his magic. But why was she so frightened?

The answer suggested itself. Hermione was disappointed. She had been sure, so sure, that no one in her department was to blame.

"Where is it?" Harry asked her.

Clarice twisted them hem of her shirt in her hands. Her fellow employees fell silent, straining to hear.

"I know you took it," Harry said. He pointed at the desk he had ransacked. "That's the frame. Where's the photo?"

She looked up and blanched at the look on Harry's face.

"Harry," Hermione said urgently, "what photo?"

"The photo of Sirius," Harry said. "Remus had it sitting on his desk, in that frame." He gestured to the golden frame that lied empty upon Clarice's desk. "That's the focus. Where is it, Clarice?"

Clarice shook her head.

"I know you didn't cast the spell," Harry said, voice suddenly soft, comforting. "I'm not going to do anything to you. Tell me who has it now, and I won't mention your name when I file my report."

She hesitated a moment longer. A look at Hermione seemed to make up her mind. "I - my friend from school asked me to steal it . . ."

"His name?" Harry asked.

"Matthew Rosier."

Hermione pressed her hand over her mouth. Harry nodded slowly, whispering the name to himself. He looked at Hermione. "I'm going to go to the Rosier Estate," he said when she finally met his eyes. "Call Malfoy and tell him to arrest her." He jerked his head towards Clarice. "Then wait here for me - I might need your help."

"Harry," Hermione whispered. This was her fault. Rosier . . . .

"Do what I said," he ordered.

Clarice's mouth had fallen open, her eyes wide. "But you said -"

"I lied," Harry told her flatly. "Your foolishness may have killed a man. If it does, you'll wish we'd never met."

He swept from the room then, leaving the two women to tremble, but for entirely different reasons.

~

It took him only a few minutes and a quick spell to find the current location of Matthew Rosier, a man who had no reason to hide himself from scrying spells. Harry Apparated directly into his flat, eyes scanning the dismal place for any sign of where the photo might be.

It wasn't in the sitting room or the dining room, which left the bedroom. Harry drew his wand and quietly opened the door.

Rosier was asleep, sprawled out in bed. Harry quietly cast Ligare Metallum with cruel satisfaction. The young man jerked away and spotted Harry instantly, struggling to stand before realizing his hands were bound. He landed in a clumsy pile, cursing angrily.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Harry watched as Rosier clambered to his feet. He'd obviously been drinking the night before, which would account for his badly cast spell.

"You are drunk," Harry said coolly, "if you can't even recognize me."

Rosier stopped swaying. His eyes widened with horror and tracked up to Harry's forehead. Helpfully, Harry pushed his bangs back so that the scar shone clearly.

Rosier stumbled backwards and fell again, swearing.

Harry turned his back on him, scanning the room. A little flicker of motion caught his eye - he went to the dresser, and found the photo there. He'd been right, it was of Sirius; but he was in it too. They were in 12 Grimmauld Place, chatting, caught forever in a conversation that Harry could barely recall. His throat felt tight as he watched the little scene, as he watched the man he and Remus both had loved, and lost.

Anger bubbled up from a spring somewhere in Harry's soul. How dare he, how dare Rosier steal this, as if it was trinket to play with?

He turned to look at the young man struggling to hide in the corner, obviously terrified that Harry was going to kill him. Harry caught sight of himself in the mirror - disheveled and angry-eyed. The mirror didn't reflect magical power, but Harry was willing to bet that he was practically exuding the stuff. He was glad.

"I'll be back in a few hours to arrest you," Harry said coolly. He cast Ligare metallum again, on Rosier's feet this time. "Try not to get too comfortable. I'll take this with me." He held up the photo so that Rosier could see it clearly. "Acknowledge that it's mine, Rosier."

Rosier panted. "I-I-I-I d-d-don't -"

He was more than drunk. He was probably on something. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Acknowledge it, or I'll hex you, and my hexes are strong enough to kill."

"I-I-I ack-acknowledge that y-y-you have th-the photo." He licked his lips. "I ack - I acknowledge it."

"Good," Harry said peaceably. He Disapparated.

***

Harry was at Remus' side when he finally awoke, holding his shoulder as he shuddered, his body still suffering from the effects of the curse. His lips were still blue-tinged when he looked up at Harry. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to put a curse on you," Harry said soothingly, helping him sit up. "It's gone now, you'll be fine. How are you feeling?"

"Cold," Remus admitted with a short, giddy laugh. "Lightheaded."

Harry stood long enough to hoist the blankets up, wrapping them around Remus as much as he could. His hands were shaking. He hoped Remus wouldn't notice - on second thought, he realized he didn't have anything to worry about. Remus was dazed, looking at him with amusement but not a great deal of recognition.

Wondering belatedly about oxygen deprivation and brain damage, Harry rubbed soothing circles into Remus' shoulder with his thumb. "Remus? Look at me."

Remus obeyed. His eyes were a clear, brilliant shade of turquoise, easily the loveliest color Harry had ever seen. Harry resisted the urge to press their foreheads together and lose himself in those eyes. "Are you okay? Talk to me, all right?"

Remus blinked a few times. "Where . . . where am I?"

"St. Mungo's. Hermione found you. What do you remember?"

Remus looked away, his gaze fastening randomly on objects around the room. "Er . . ." He thought hard, eyes unfocused. "I was going to bed . . . it felt like someone was crushing my spine . . ."

Harry, who had some experience with what it felt like to have your spine crushed, winced.

"And then I think I fainted." Remus looked at Harry again. He seemed much more focused this time. "Harry." Harry's head spun at the sound of his name. "What happened?"

Harry told him. As he reached the end of his tale, someone rapped on the door. He looked over and realized he still had his hands on Remus' shoulders, that he was still rubbing them gently. His face turned scarlet. He dropped his hands quickly.

"Mr. Lupin," the medic said. Harry got off the bed and stood aside, listening as Remus answered the questions easily, with only a hint of confusion. It was wearing off, then: good. Frequent blue-green glances in his direction left him feeling jittery, like the floor was vibrating beneath his feet. Maybe he should have asked Hermione to stay.

When the medic was gone, saying something about Remus staying a few hours for observation, Harry stepped forward. Remus looked at him intently for a moment, then said, "The focus you mentioned - what was it?"

Harry pulled the photo out of his pocket. "I was right in my suspicion that it was work related," he said, a bit dully, known how his words would affect Remus even if he said nothing. "Clarice stole it and gave it to Matthew Rosier."

Remus looked down at the photo in his hand for a moment in pensive silence. When he looked up again, his eyes brimmed with some unspoken emotion. "Rosier?"

"He's been arrested." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, lest they be tempted to wander. "He'll have a trial - he tried to resist arrest, which left the department none too happy with him, or me, for that matter." He shrugged, as if to say, 'who cares?' "Hermione and Ron will probably be stopping by later. They didn't really believe me when I said you'd be okay."

Remus smiled faintly, sitting up and gesturing for Harry to sit on the end of his bed. Harry declined.

"I need to get to work," he lied. He'd already called in. He didn't think he could take much more of this. "When are they going to release you?"

Remus looked slightly disappointed. "Later tonight," he said.

"I'll stop by then," Harry promised, already kicking himself for promising. "Take care of yourself, Remus. You gave us all a horrible fright."

Remus smiled apologetically. "Not my intention at all," he said sincerely. At Harry's slightly wry look, he added, "I'll do my best to be more careful. Off with you."

Bowing ironically, Harry obeyed.

~

He went directly to Hermione and Ron's. Ron had already gone back to work, but Hermione had begged off, especially after the scene from that morning. When she opened the door to Harry, he was surprised to see an expression made equal parts of anger and concern.

"Come in," she said, stepping back and watching him intently as he entered the cramped sitting room. He sat uneasily on the couch, watching as Hermione dropped onto the furthest cushion at stared at him inscrutably.

"What?" he finally asked. "What did I do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What did you do?! Harry!"

"I don't -" Harry ran his hand through his hair, leaving it in even further disarray. "I barely even remember what happened this morning."

Her face gentled. She scooted closer and put her arms around him, surprising him, but it was incredibly nice to put his head on her shoulder and breathe for a few minutes. He was dangerously near tears when he finally forced himself to pull away, tugging off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of nose to conceal his emotions.

Hermione took his glasses from his hand and set them aside. "What's wrong, Harry? Is Remus okay?"

Harry waved his hand negligently. "He's fine. He'll be fine. A little confused, but fine."

She caught his hands and held them tightly. "Then what?"

Harry hung his head. Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, finally putting her arm around his shoulders and tugging him close again.

They were still like that a little while later when the door opened. Harry jumped and swiped at his eyes, searching for his glasses. Hermione pushed them into his hand. "Hello, Ron."

Ron glanced at Harry with concern. "Remus?"

"He's fine," Hermione answered for him. "Harry's just a little stressed out about what happened."

"Can't say I blame you," Ron said, going into the kitchen and getting out something to drink. "I'm not exactly thrilled with it myself, mate." He handed Harry a glass of water, sitting in the loveseat and looking incredibly relaxed.

Harry took a cautious sip, feeling shaky all over.

Hermione was waiting for him to finish. He looked at her, trying not to plead off the lecture that he knew was coming.

"Harry," she said seriously, "you really frightened me earlier."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, looking at his hands.

"Leave off, Hermione," Ron said exasperated. "He's got enough to deal with."

"No." Hermione's voice was entirely stubborn. "Harry, what you did to Clarice was cruel. She trusted you to keep your word."

"Right," Harry said, still mumbling. "Like she trusted Rosier to kill Remus."

Hermione scolded him with a single glare. "And your display - the mess you made -" She shook her head. "I know you were worried, Harry, and if I'd been in your position, I don't know what I would've done. But Harry, you're not me. You can't just -"

Harry got to his feet, almost spilling his drink. He set it down with a thump. "I can't listen to this," he said, "not right now."

Hermione caught his wrist and yanked him down. "Don't you walk away from me," she said sternly, eyes blazing. "Listen to me, Harry James Potter. You are one of the most powerful wizards the world has ever seen. You may not realize it; you may not choose to use your abilities to their fullest, but you are nonetheless." She released his wrist and glared at him furiously. "You terrified me this morning."

"Hermione -"

"You could've lost control of your magic and killed someone." Hermione forced him to meet her eyes. "You're too powerful for displays like that."

Ron got to his feet suddenly, prying Harry from Hermione. "That's enough, Hermione," he said, and led Harry to the other side of the room.

"Ron -"

"If you're too frightened," he said coldly, "To act like the friend you're supposed to be, then you can leave."

Harry didn't want to watch them bicker, and they knew it. With the ease of long practice, they exchanged glares and saved the argument for later. Ron looked back at Harry. "You need to go home and get some sleep," he said.

Harry nodded, incredibly grateful for Ron's intervention. "Thanks, Ron."

He got a clap on the shoulder. "Anytime."

Harry Disapparated away. He remembered to set his alarm for five 'o' clock, and sank gratefully into bed.

He dreamed of vivid turquoise eyes, and the slim, pale body he had only glimpsed. He woke at three, hungry for something he knew the name of far too well, and stayed awake for the rest of the afternoon, just thinking.

~

Before he left to meet Remus at the hospital, Harry stopped in front of his answering machine.

It was possible, he reminded himself, that it was just a message from Hermione. That Draco had given up on trying to reach Harry after Apparating into his apartment and finding him gone. It was possible.

It just wasn't likely.

Harry deleted the message.

~

"I should be quite fine from here," Remus said politely.

Harry flashed him a slightly dark smile. "Someone could have put some kind of jinx in your apartment," he pointed out. At an exasperated, amused glance, Harry added, "At least let me check. To make myself feel better."

Remus obliged. Harry entered his apartment first, casting a spell-detection charm and scanning the room for any unusual glows. Remus leaned against the wall and watched, eyes mild and inscrutable, as always. Harry avoided looking at him.

"It's not your fault, what happened," Remus said at last when he was finished. "You couldn't have known."

"I could have," Harry muttered bitterly. He'd just finished checking the bedroom; he leaned against the doorjamb and stared moodily at the floor. "I should have."

Remus crossed the room, coming to his side. Harry felt his heart accelerate, just slightly.

"You saved my life," Remus reminded him. "I owe you."

"It's likely," Harry said quietly, "that your life was in danger due to my actions, and the way I dealt with Melissa Rosier."

"Hardly." When Harry summoned the nerve to lift his head and meet Remus' eyes, he was fixed by that vivid gaze. "Stop blaming yourself, Harry."

Harry looked at the floor and closed his eyes tightly. His hands itched to be on Remus' skin, to grip his shoulders the way he had earlier, to kiss him.

"Harry?"

He sounded worried, a little stern. About to order him to stop kicking himself, with absolutely no idea that Harry almost didn't care about the Rosier's and what they'd done, that he was guilty because he hadn't walked away, that Remus - who, by all rights, should be forbidden - was so incredibly enticing to him.

He wasn't a scared little boy anymore, though; he wouldn't deny himself something out of his own fear. Surely he was brave enough to do this one thing. Surely.

Harry lifted his eyes. Remus was only a foot away. It was easy to bridge the distance between them, resting his hand on the curve of his shoulder and neck; it was easier to step forward and close the gap. He had a flash of Remus' eyes - wide, a little startled - before their mouths touched in a chaste kiss.

Harry held it for several minutes, too afraid to pull away. The contact of their lips left his body tingling, his face flushed, his hands cold. He stepped back tentatively, looking anywhere but the man before him.

Uncomfortably warm silence wrapped around them. And then Remus' hand left his side and brushed itself against Harry's face. Hot joy exploded in his stomach.

He looked up. Remus was watching him like wanted to look inside of him, read his thoughts and figure him out. Harry was all too willing to let him. He leaned forward and they kissed again, mouths brushing with extraordinary gentleness.

Their bodies met carefully. Large, warm hands found the back of Harry's neck and held him in place. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and moved closer to the warmth, slipping his arms around Remus' waist, breath starting to come hard and fast.

Their mouths broke apart. Remus enfolded Harry in his arms, pressing their cheeks together. Harry clung to him desperately.

Remus sighed softly, humid breath brushing Harry's ear. "Are you okay?"

Harry shivered. His palms, his shoulders, his back, seemed to itch - he ran his hands over Remus' back, felt Remus' fingers running through the hair at his nape, and the itching subsided. Harry mouthed the pulse in his throat and smiled when Remus gave a shoulder-wracking shudder.

"I'm fine," Harry said, putting a little distance between them, cupping Remus' face in his hands. "Do you . . . do you want me to stop?"

Remus shook his head, eyes closing again, and Harry just had to kiss him again, fisting his hands in his shirt, and then Remus opened his mouth to Harry's tongue silently and he had to get them closer and breath seemed to be in rather short supply.

Shy hands rubbed Harry's shoulders. The terribly light, almost timid contact was driving him mad - he felt like he was going to explode.

Harry forced himself to break away again. "Is it - d'you - can I -"

Remus pulled Harry's shirt over his head, running his hands over his suddenly bare waist. Harry swallowed his questions - that was enough of an answer, really - and started working on the buttons of Remus' shirt, gasping when he kissed his throat. As the cotton piled to the floor their bodies melted together, warm, moist skin meeting. Harry couldn't stop shivering.

The next few minutes were a blur in Harry's memory. They managed somehow to get into the bedroom, shedding the rest of their clothes, until Remus was spread across the blankets, naked and vulnerable and exactly as Harry had been dreaming of him. A long, soul-searching kiss later, their bodies were already moving together, sweat already gathering on their skin.

Harry buried his face into Remus' throat, wondering idly where his glasses had gone, thrusting into the blankets when Remus moaned softly. Their eyes met as Harry's hand brushed between Remus' thighs, fingers leaving an unsteady path upon sweaty skin.

Harry wanted . . . God, so much, to kiss him, to crawl between his legs and touch him with his tongue, his lips, watch him beg for it till he couldn't speak, to be inside him . . .

Remus' blue eyes were wide and shocked. Everything he wanted, Harry sure, was written across his face. He kissed him softly and made it a promise.

"What do you want?" Harry murmured.

Remus caught his hand and tugged it lower, over the sensitive opening. Harry felt his hair stand on end, even as he smiled. "You want me in you?" Remus gasped and nodded, writhing as Harry's other hand moved even faster. "Say it."

Blue eyes opened. Remus stared up at him, chin lifted, exposing his throat. Harry watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed tightly. In a husky voice, Remus said, "I want you to fuck me."

Harry shuddered, forced himself to still, decidedly light-headed. His lungs weren't operating properly. "Where's my wand?"

Remus ignored this, tugging Harry down for a kiss. Their tongues met and stroked, battling for dominance. Remus found a wand - Harry wasn't sure whose - and pressed it into his hand. Harry murmured the spell, slicking his fingers and sliding them inside. Remus gasped and arched his back.

Harry pressed kisses into the curve of his throat, drawing back to watch his face, the flickering emotions and pure sensation. He didn't realize he was talking until Remus looked at him, almost sleepily, and brushed his hand over Harry's mouth, his moving lips. He couldn't recall what he'd been saying.

Harry slipped another finger inside, fighting back a moan as Remus gasped. He scissored his fingers, stretching him, until Remus tangled his fingers in his hair and kissed him hard. "Now."

Harry nodded breathlessly, almost frantic as he pushed himself inside. The first slow thrust was ecstasy, watching Remus gasp helplessly, mouth open, just for him. Harry leaned forward as best he could and kissed him, nuzzling the curve of his jaw as he thrust again. He realized he was talking, babbling again - he concentrated and whispered, "Love you."

Another slow push inside. Harry grabbed the pillow behind Remus head and dug his nails into it, hanging his head as he moved. Remus touched him everywhere, sometimes teasing, sometimes merely exploring. Harry managed to focus again and laid kisses on his chest, on the pulse in his throat.

Orgasm hit like a blow - Harry cried out and clung to Remus hard enough to leave bruises, gasping as the strength went out of him and Remus kissed him softly, bringing him down. Harry sank into the blankets, opening his eyes and gazing at Remus in mute wonder.

Remus kissed his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, the scar that was sometimes the bane of Harry's existence. Harry's hand slipped lower again.

Watching Remus was an experience in and of itself. Harry's fingertips rested against his temple, his jaw, the tender curve of his lips, as he shuddered and moaned under Harry's hand. When Remus came at last, Harry felt shocks traveling over his skin, slow and wonderful.

~

Harry woke slowly, drifting lazily in a peaceful sea of darkness. He was wrapped up in the bedclothes, his head resting against and unfamiliar pillow. He was slightly sticky.

Images of what took place the night before materialized slowly. Harry stayed very still, letting them tumble gently through his brain, marveling at how calm he felt. Not spent, but calm. It had been a very long time since he had woken up like this, in such a perfectly placid manner. There was no gut-wrenching anxiety, no haunting guilt, no restless energy. Just peace.

A gentle hand brushed against his hair, smoothing it from his face. Harry told his eyes to open, but they stayed stubbornly shut. He could drift right off again, those long fingers trailing heavenly paths against his scalp. In fact, it seemed like a damn good idea . . . .

The blankets were tugged slightly away, allowing a bit of cool air to waft inside. Harry felt himself getting goose bumps. The hand left his scalp and brushed against his back.

Remus seemed to sense that Harry was awake, or perhaps he was talking to himself. "I remember . . ."

Harry was still, silent, waiting.

"I remember . . . when you got these." He traced the scars carved into Harry's back.

Unwillingly, Harry remembered too. The sharp, sharp blade that sliced open his skin, tracing obscure shapes into the flesh. Voldemort had been determined to steal Harry's power from him, drain him, and take it into himself. He had believed that it would make him invincible; perhaps it would have, if the ritual had been completed.

"I remember when you disappeared from Gryffindor Tower, how frantic Ron and Hermione were." Remus bent down and kissed the scar, his lips brushing Harry's skin as he continued to whisper. "I remember the planning . . . trying to find a way to get to you, before it was too late . . ."

Harry turned slightly so that he could hear better. Remus' fingers stroked a scar in the small of his back.

"I remember when we finally broke past the barriers, and we knew you were alive . . ." Another kiss. "How Molly wept and Bill held on to her." His fingers moved higher, towards the center of Harry's back where the worst of the scars were located. "I remember when Hermione and Ron finally showed themselves, Ron folding your Invisibility Cloak and stashing it as if it was a precious treasure."

Remus rested his head on Harry's back for several long moments. Harry could feel himself starting to drift off again. A warm kiss woke him up.

"I remember when we located you at last. I remember . . ." He paused. Harry felt him grow very still, felt his hands shake ever so slightly. Another feather-light kiss. Harry sighed. "I remember when he found you, bleeding, unconscious . . ." His voice broke slightly. Harry lifted his head and Remus kissed his spine, right where it had been broken.

He settled closer to Harry, his arm pressed into the small of his back, whispering into the curve of his neck.

"I remember watching you lie in St. Mungo's." Harry finally managed to open his eyes, and found Remus' - clear and perfectly blue, untainted by even the barest tinge of green or amber - only inches away. It must be the new moon.

Harry caressed his face. "We weren't sure you'd survive," Remus told him. "And then, we weren't sure if you'd recover. And I sat there - with Ron and Hermione, of course . . . I sat there and watched you sleep, and sleep . . . ."

Remus tilted his head up and kissed him, their bodies meeting and intertwining beneath the blankets. It was a long time before they moved apart, breath fluttering between them like ghostly caresses.

Harry closed his eyes and touched their foreheads together, wrapping his arms as far around Remus as they'd go. And then they sank into perfect silence, all words spoken.