The Second Time Around

Harry Potter knelt on the knotty hardwood floor, fingering the pages of a worn old photo album. The grinning faces of Lily and James Potter shone up at him, recalling a much happier, safer time. He sighed, flipping the page, and felt a lump rise unbidden in this throat.

It was a picture of the infamous Trio. Ron and Hermione flanked Harry on either side, and all them had their heads thrown back, laughing at some forgotten joke. Harry blinked back tears and abruptly shut the album. A sudden noise behind him made him jump.

"Didn't mean to startle you," said Remus Lupin with a gentle smile.

"Oh no, it's fine," Harry said, too quickly. He swiped a hand across his damp cheeks and turned away, busying himself with a box of trinkets from his years at Hogwarts.

"I was just wondering if you needed a hand unpacking," Remus said from the doorway.

"Thanks, no. I'm just about finished here," Harry replied, surveying the somewhat orderly chaos of his new room.

"Well then, are you hungry? I can throw something together for dinner if you like."

Harry smiled and nodded. "That'd be great, Remus, thanks."

"I'll call you when it's ready," the older man said, disappearing into the hall.

Harry stood up and stretched, meandering into the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. Attractive but sparsely decorated, it was obvious a bachelor lived there. It appeared the spare bathroom hadn't seen much action, other than a very thorough cleaning. Harry stuck his toothbrush in the holder above the sink and stowed various other toiletries in the medicine chest.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, leaning his temple against the cool tile wall. He was grateful to Remus for the offer to share his house outside Hogsmeade, but leaving Hogwarts had been difficult.

He had only been teaching and coaching quidditch for a year when the war began in earnest. It was bloody and devastating, as he'd always feared, but even in his worst nightmares he couldn't imagine the incredible blows he would suffer.

Dumbledore had been the first, killed personally by the Dark Lord himself. It was the event that kicked off active battle between the Light and the Dark. Hogwarts was closed, and Harry became the reluctant commander of an army.

The murder of Tonks and Snape was particularly hard to bear. They had announced their engagement only a few months previous. And though Harry was a bit squicked that pretty, vivacious Tonks could love his greasy old potions master, he had to give them credit for finding happiness in the face of so much hatred and violence.

They died together, in combat with the Death Eaters. Ginny Weasely's life was saved because of their sacrifice. That made it a bit easier to handle in Harry's mind.

But the last one he knew he'd never be able to accept. Hermione's death could have been prevented. He could have stopped it, could have saved her, if only he'd listened. She'd warned him of a secret plot Voldemort was concocting to lure them all to his headquarters at Malfoy Manor. Harry hadn't believed her, choosing instead to take the word of Ernie Macmillan, a spy for the Light. And, as Harry would come to find out, a traitor.

Harry couldn't have known, of course, but that didn't stop him from blaming himself. He would have given anything to be in Hermione's place when the bomb went off.

Ron had moved out of the flat he and Hermione had shared, opting to return home to the Burrow. He and Harry hadn't spoken since; and when Harry went to visit Molly and the other Weasely's, Ron had made some excuse about needing something from Hogsmeade. He didn't return for two days, after Harry was gone. He didn't think Ron was angry with him; he figured the memories that surfaced when the two of them were together were just too much to bear. If Harry was completely honest with himself, he had to admit it was a bit of a relief that Ron was avoiding him. He wasn't sure he could handle their reunion just yet.

So now, here he was, moving in with one of the only members left of the Old Order. School had been back in session for six months since the end of the war, but summer was upon them, and Remus had forbidden Harry to stay in the empty old castle, virtually alone, for all those months.

Somewhat reluctantly, Harry had agreed, and he now found himself glad of his decision. He and Remus had been to hell and back together, and Harry respected the man and cared for him every bit as much as he had for Dumbledore and Sirius. They understood one another; without saying a word, Remus always seemed to know when Harry needed to talk, and when he needed to be left alone.

Harry had almost managed to doze off, when Remus called him from the kitchen. Harry stood up, gingerly fingering the side of his face, where the ceramic tile had left a deep red imprint. He headed slowly downstairs, trying to remember where the kitchen was located.

Hearing a faint, musical sound, Harry followed it, eventually reaching the swinging door of the kitchen. He pushed it open quietly, and saw Remus bustling about, setting jars of honey and jam on the small table in the corner. He was humming a tune Harry recognized from a Hogwarts dance several years before. It was something by the Weird Sisters.

Harry smiled and cleared his throat softly, making his presence known. Remus turned, looking slightly embarrassed, but his eyes twinkled and he grinned.

"Hope you're hungry, Harry. It isn't much..." he gestured to the modest spread before him.

"I'm sure it's great," Harry said, plopping himself down in a rickety old chair and helping himself to a roll and some butter. Looking pleased, Remus sat across from him, heaping a good portion of some casserole to rival any of Mrs. Weasely's onto his plate. They ate in companionable silence, occasionally commenting on the weather or sharing idle gossip about the Hogwarts staff.

"So, how's McGonagall doing?" Remus asked. "Has she settled in as Headmistress?"

"Oh, yes," Harry replied, smiling fondly. "Her leg gives her a bit of trouble, and she still hasn't regained all of her hearing, but she's the same as ever - handing out detentions right and left, and loving it."

Remus laughed heartily. "She's a tough old broad."

"She's getting old though," Harry said sadly. "Oh, her mind's as sharp as ever, but I worry about her health. Pomfrey says her hearing should have fully returned by now."

"Harry, when that bomb went off, she was practically standing on top of it. It's a wonder her hearing was all she lost. I have a feeling she'll be around for a while yet. She won't go without a fight."

Harry smiled, agreeing. He had finished eating, and it looked as though Remus had as well. Harry stood up and gathered the plates, carrying them over to the sink.

"Oh Harry, you don't need to do that," Remus protested, also rising from his seat. "Here, let me."

"Nonsense," Harry said, snatching a plate out of Remus's reach. "I'm not your guest, Remus, I'm your housemate. I'll not have you waiting on me."

"I don't mind," Remus said quickly. "It keeps me occupied."

Harry studied his former professor carefully. Just under twenty years his senior, Remus still retained a youthful appearance, in spite of his graying hair and the worry lines that creased his forehead. He looks distinguished, Harry thought. He certainly looked healthier than he had the last time Harry had seen him, just before the full moon. He always got a bit peaky around that time of the month. But just now, he looked good. His golden eyes were brighter, and his cheeks had some color in them. He was quite handsome, actually. Harry could only hope he aged as well.

Remus gave him a polite but puzzled smile, and Harry realized he was staring. He blinked and looked away, embarrassed.

"Harry, at least let me help," Remus said, after a slightly awkward pause.

Dumbledore had made sure Remus was well taken care of after his death. He had left him enough galleons to buy his modest home, and to ensure that he would never have to worry about being out of work again. But Harry knew that Remus was the type of man who enjoyed working, especially teaching. He had been offered a position at Hogwarts after the war, but there were still those in the wizarding community who did not want their children taught by a werewolf.

Harry knew Remus hated being cooped up almost as much as Sirius had. He realized that Remus saw taking care of him as a job of sorts. It gave him something to do, something with which to occupy the long hours stuck inside the cozy but cramped little house.

Knowing Remus would hate the look of pity on his face, Harry smiled brightly, tossing a dishrag in the older man's direction. "Fine. Help."

Remus laughed and joined Harry at the sink. Harry, after living with the Dursley's all those years, preferred doing dishes the Muggle way. Remus, on the other hand, had only ever known how to clean with magic. He enchanted the towel to dry the dishes, and then kept Harry entertained by making them dance and zoom their way into the cupboards. He only managed to break one saucer and chip the sugar bowl, which he informed Harry was a new record.

Harry went to bed that night feeling more at east than he had since before the war. He snuggled into the down comforter and prayed for the peace of a dreamless sleep.

He wasn't that lucky.

***

All Harry could see was red. It blurred his vision, invaded his nostrils, and choked his mouth. The smell, the taste, the sound of rushing blood was everywhere. He couldn't escape it; it was drowning him, pulling him under, carrying him away to a place he knew he didn't want to go. He struggled against it, kicking and flailing, gasping for air. He was sucked under, pulled down farther... father...

Suddenly, Harry was standing on the bank of a river, staring down at the swirling, churning red water. Something drifted by, something that looked sickeningly familiar.

It was a Hogwarts robe, tinged crimson and billowing out from some hidden mass. Harry stared, knowing he didn't want to see what was under the robe, unable to look away.

Please, God, oh please. Please, don't let it be...

The robe shifted, and Harry could see a flash of scarlet and gold - a Gryffindor patch.

Oh God. No... no...

The water calmed suddenly, and the robe stopped billowing. It settled over a form that looked vaguely feminine. Harry tried to brace himself, but he knew he would never be prepared for what he was about to see.

The robe slipped away, revealing masses of sodden curly hair. Harry tried to gasp, but found he had no breath.

It was Hermione, eyes wide and glazed, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

Harry felt his knees give out, and he was falling...

***

Remus awoke to a blood-chilling scream. The werewolf in him made him a light sleeper, but he would have heard that scream all the way from London. He was out of his bed in a flash, grabbing his wand and dashing out the door. Harry's room was just down the hall from his own, and it was with a sinking feeling Remus realized it was from his room the screams were issuing.

Remus paused at his door, listening. He knew it was most likely only a nightmare, if a nasty one. Harry had mentioned he'd been having trouble sleeping because of them. Remus wondered if perhaps he should let Harry be - let the nightmare resolve itself. But the next scream was so heart wrenching, Remus plunged through the door without thinking twice.

Harry was tangled in his sheets, thrashing wildly. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he kept twisting his head, as though to avoid seeing something.

"No," he muttered, digging his fingers into the mattress. "Not her. Anyone but her."

Remus couldn't stand to see the pain etched in Harry's young face. He went to the edge of the bed and touched his wand to the boy's temple, opening his mouth to utter a sleeping charm.

Just then, a pair of startling green eyes met his, and Remus caught his breath. "Remus," Harry breathed, looking confused. "Where am... what... oh, God."

Remus placed a hand on Harry's arm. His skin was hot to the touch. "You're here, Harry - in my house. You're safe. It was only a nightmare."

"A nightmare..." Harry's eyes began to uncloud, as realization sank in. His face crumpled. "It was just a nightmare... she's really... oh God, Remus."

The younger man fell into Remus's arms, sobs shaking his shoulders violently. Remus was stunned. He'd never seen Harry cry in as many years as he's known him. Depressed, yes. Angry, certainly. But never had Remus seen the boy shed a tear. It frightened him, and at the same time it awoke some sort of longing within him - a longing to make Harry okay, no matter what the cost.

He wrapped his arms around Harry's back, feeling the lean muscles tense and eventually relax. He whispered soothingly into Harry's soft black hair, his breath ruffling it around the forehead. After a few moments, Harry pulled away, looking embarrassed. Remus kept a hand on him, but allowed him to move out of his embrace. He wanted Harry to have as much space as he needed, in order to deal with all the memories he was facing.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, until finally Remus broke the silence. "How about I make us some hot chocolate?" Harry sniffled and looked up at him in surprise. Remus smiled. "You know the healing properties of chocolate. I keep some on hand at all times."

Harry managed a small laugh. "You and your chocolate. Okay, sounds good." Remus stood from the bed, allowing Harry to disentangle himself from the sheets. The young man stood up, and Remus was suddenly struck by how much he'd grown. He was no longer the gangly, serious boy he had known. He was now taller and thin, his skin smooth and tan. His hair was just as unruly as ever, but it was a bit longer now, and fell around his ears. Though physically he was the epitome of youth, his eyes held a wisdom beyond his years. He had seen so much that no 21-year-old should ever have to see, and lived through it all, for better or worse. Remus only hoped Harry knew the amount of respect he had for him.

Remus realized he was staring and flushed slightly. He turned and walked out of the room, hearing Harry padding softly behind him.

***

Two hours and three mugs of hot chocolate later, the two men were lounging comfortably on Remus's couch. Both looked calm and relaxed on the outside; they were anything but. They had discussed Harry's dream, and consequently the war, and Voldemort, and the deaths of so many loved ones.

Harry suddenly sat up. "Remus," he said seriously. "How do you deal with it?"

"With what?" Remus replied, opening his eyes to look at Harry's anxious face.

"Death. Never knowing who will be the next to die."

"Well, Harry, I try not to look at things like that. I don't expect people to die."

"But they do," Harry said quietly. Remus felt a lump rise in his throat at Harry's innocent and genuine pain. "It seems like everyone I care about does."

"Don't say that, Harry. You still have plenty of people who care about you. You know that." But Harry was shaking his head.

"No. I don't. I have you."

"Of course, Harry. You'll always have me," Remus said, with a half-smile.

"Just don't die, okay?"

Remus did smile then. "I'll try my best, Harry. I promise you that."

Harry looked up at him then with such startling intensity that Remus had to catch his breath, for the second time that night.

"You're my everything," Harry whispered, and Remus felt his whole world suddenly come into sharper focus. He opened his mouth to speak, but found he could think of nothing to say. Harry looked as though he were regretting his choice of words, and Remus didn't know how to tell him that that was all he ever needed to hear - that his whole life, all he'd ever wanted to be was someone's everything.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed Harry.

***

Stupid, bloody idiot!

Harry thought, kicking himself. I can't believe I said that. Look at the way Remus is watching me. He doesn't even know what to say. "You're my everything!?!" Why did I say that? Now he thinks I'm a poncy git. Perfect. Way to go, wonder boy.

Harry didn't stop to ponder that the reason he had said what he did was because he meant it, because he felt it with every cell that lived within him. He merely sat, open-mouthed, as Remus took in what he said, analyzing every look that flitted across the man's face.

Harry felt his heart lodge in his chest as Remus leaned toward him, so close Harry could feel his breath, warm on his face. He shut his eyes and tilted his face upward a bit, not really sure why.

When he felt Remus's warm lips press softly against his forehead, his eyes shot open again. He breathed in Remus's scent - it was earth and forest and rain, and it comforted Harry more than anything else ever had.

Remus straightened after a moment, giving Harry a caring smile. He said good night quietly and walked to the stairs, his mug of hot chocolate forgotten on the coffee table.

Harry leaned back into the sofa and within minutes fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.