The Second Time Around

Harry sat in the crowded café, glaring daggers into his cup of coffee. It had been a month since the episode with Remus in the attic, and not one day had passed that Harry hadn't relived every second of it in his mind. He had returned to the house the following Sunday, as planned. At first he refused to speak to Remus, keeping himself sequestered in his room, emerging only to sneak down to the kitchen for food.

On the fourth day of his self-imposed exile, he had opened the door at 6:00 a.m., planning to grab his breakfast before Remus woke up. He nearly tripped over the tray sitting demurely in the entryway to his room. It was piled high with scones and sausages and a steaming omelet. A small silver kettle held hot water, and a tea bag was laid out next to a china teacup.

A small card perched on the edge of the tray, looking completely innocent in its cream-colored blandness. Harry had picked it up, turning it over and over in his hand before opening it tentatively.

Dear Harry,

it had said. Go back to bed. There's a warming spell cast over the food - it'll stay hot until you're ready to eat it. I'll be gone this afternoon, so you can roam the house freely without fear of running into me. I'm sorry.

That was it. No signature, no explanations. Harry dragged the heavy tray into his room, setting it on the top of his dresser. He tossed the note aside and tried to ignore the warmth that was spreading through his belly at Remus's gesture. He grasped at the last few tendrils of his anger, clinging with all his might.

It hadn't taken him long to break.

The second he had heard Remus leaving his room just after noon, he darted out into the hall, his stocking feet nearly flying out from under him on the smooth hardwood floor. Remus instinctively grabbed his arm, steadying him, and Harry clung to him. Within seconds, both were murmuring apologies, babbling soft, meaningless assurances in one another's ears.

Those first few hours were the hardest. Remus and Harry had sat down at the kitchen table, pointedly ignoring the mugs of hot chocolate Remus had insisted on making, Harry assumed just to keep his hands busy. Remus apologized for his tremendously insensitive error, but told Harry he could not apologize for defending Sirius's memory. Harry understood, telling the older man sincerely that he was sorry for making a mockery of Remus's relationship with his godfather.

"And Harry," Remus had said after a while, "you really aren't like him. You aren't him."

Harry had shaken his head. "No, Remus. I am like him. I see now that you meant it as a compliment, and I'm sorry I took it the wrong way."

"No, no. I mean, physically. It's not... not as though I can't tell the difference between the two of you. You're so much... much more..." Remus trailed off, unable to finish whatever he'd been thinking. Instead, he reached across the table, laying a soft hand over Harry's. There was an invitation in his eyes.

Pulling away had been one of the hardest things Harry had ever had to do.

"No," he said firmly, slipping his hand out from under Remus's, trying desperately to ignore the look of hurt the other man was attempting to hide. "Remus, I... I can't. Not yet. Up in the attic, I realized... a lot of things. I know that I can't ever touch what you had with Sirius, and I don't want to. I can't compete with his memory."

"Harry, I don't expect you to -"

"I'm being selfish, Remus," Harry interjected, his voice sounding strained. "I'm not doing this for you, or for Sirius. I'm saying no because there's still a part of me that would wonder who you were thinking of - me or him. I can't bear that thought, and right now I'm not strong or confident enough to put it aside."

Remus couldn't argue with this logic. And so he had let Harry get up from the table and go back into his room. Though this time, he didn't stay there for long. Things soon returned to some semblance of normalcy. Harry kept to himself a bit more, but he joined Remus for meals, and occasionally sat with him in the evenings, reading a book or sharing a game of chess. There were certainly many awkward moments, but both were so relieved that their relationship hadn't been totally shattered by what had happened.

By the time the next full moon rolled around, Harry was beginning to feel almost content again. That is, until Remus had unceremoniously booted him out of the house, telling him he already had a room reserved at the Hogsmeade Inn.

Which was how Harry came to be sitting in the crowded café, clutching a mug of rather strong coffee, giving dirty looks to any passers-by that dared glance in his direction.

Where does he get the nerve?

Harry thought, fuming. Thinking I can't hold my own, that I'm too sensitive to see him as a werewolf. As though I haven't been in potentially dangerous situations before.

Harry glanced down at his watch - 5:45 p.m. Still a few hours before the moon began to rise. Maybe I'll just drop by the house, he thought. Just to make sure he's okay. See if he needs anything before tonight.

Harry knew Remus would be angry, upset with him for his stubborn refusal to obey simple instructions, but Harry's will would not be bent. Tossing back the last gulps of the awful swill, he pulled out a few knuts and threw them on the table before heading out into the streets of Hogmeade. He walked to the edge of town before Apparating with a pop!

Remus was seated on the couch, a book beside him, a tumbler half-full of some foul-looking liquid clutched in his hand.

"Harry?" he said, disbelieving. "Is something going on? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Remus," Harry said soothingly, going to sit beside the older man. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything before tonight."

Remus's eyes narrowed and seemed to glow a fierce gold with sudden anger. "Harry James Potter," he hissed. "Did I not make it perfectly clear that you are not to come anywhere near this house until tomorrow evening?"

Harry shrugged, looking slightly sheepish, but overall unconcerned at his blatant and intentional disregarding of Remus's wishes.

"Leave. Now," Remus growled, his voice trembling in its intensity. It sent a chill racing down Harry's spine.

The young man stood his ground. "No," he said decisively, though he winced the tiniest bit at the fury in Remus's eyes. "Remus, I want to be here with you. I want -"

"No."

"Let me finish -"

"No."

"I want to see -"

"NO."

"I WANT TO SEE YOU," Harry shouted, startling Remus into shutting up for a moment. "I want to be here when you transform," he continued, a bit calmer. "I want to see the wolf, Remus." His voice was barely a whisper now. Remus couldn't find the words to protest. "Please... please let me inside that part of your life. If you'd just let me... just let me in. The way you let Sirius in."

That snapped Remus back to his senses. He stood and grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes, hoisting him none-too-gently from the sofa. "Out!" he yelled, thrusting Harry toward the door. He could already feel the wolf inside him, twisting and clawing, wanting out. He had to get Harry out before he got even more violent. Before the wolf took over completely.

But this time, Harry was prepared. "No!" he shouted, just as intently. He dug his heels into the ground and refused to be moved. If he had to resort to acting like a spoiled child, then so be it. Remus would not shut him out.

"Yes," Remus said hoarsely, gripping Harry's arm until he was sure there would be bruises. The boy didn't flinch. "Harry," he said, his voice pleading, "please... I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Harry said, and Remus knew he really believed it. Believed that even in wolf form, Remus would never intentionally harm him. He had to show him, had to make him see... before it was too late.

God, forgive me for what I'm about to do,

he thought, just as he swung a fist toward Harry's perfect nose.

Harry was, needless to say, unprepared for the blow. He staggered backwards, clutching his face, feeling hot blood ooze down his hands.

"Remus, what the fuck?"

"I won't hurt you, hmm?" Remus snarled. "Well, then, what was that?"

Harry looked at him shrewdly, glasses askew. "I know what you're doing, Remus," he said softly, taking a tentative step towards the man. "You're trying to scare me. Well, it's not going to work. Not this time." He took another step, and another. Heat sizzled between the two men as Harry got closer.

No. No, he's too close. Too close...

Remus took another swing, but Harry was quicker. His seeker reflexes kicked into gear, and he ducked under Remus's arm, plowing into his stomach, sending both of them backward over the couch, a tangle of limbs and torsos.

Harry flung himself over, straddling Remus on top of the couch. He was surprisingly strong for someone so slight. His knees were pressed tight against Remus's hips, hands around his throat. He bent so that his mouth grazed Remus's ear.

"This isn't you," he whispered ferociously. "It's the wolf. I know that. I know you don't want to hurt me, Remus."

"Want to... fucking... kill you..." Remus panted, struggling against Harry's grip. His eyes were glowing amber, reflecting the flickering lamplight. They were almost entirely inhuman.

"No, you don't," Harry said calmly, tightening his grasp around the soft skin of Remus's neck. "The wolf might want to, but you're not the wolf. You don't want to hurt me, you care about me."

"No..."

"Yes. Look at me." Remus tossed his head from side to side. Harry let go of his throat with one hand to grab his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. "I said, look at me." Suddenly, Remus calmed. His eyes were still shining unnaturally, but there was a hint of normalcy in them, and his breathing was beginning to slow.

"Harry..."

"Shh... it's okay. I'm here. I'm going to stay here."

"Harry... no," Remus whispered, pleadingly. There was real, unadulterated terror in those eyes now.

Harry was never quite sure exactly how it happened. He felt Remus's muscles tense a split second before the older man bucked against him, throwing him off the couch and rolling on top of him, pinning him against the hard floor.

"I. Warned. You." he bit out harshly, baring his teeth savagely at Harry. "Can't control it anymore... not enough wolfsbane."

"Yes you can," Harry wheezed, wriggling underneath the heavier man. "You're still in there, Remus. I know you are. Fight it. Fight the wolf."

And Harry could see he was. He was witnessing the struggle in Remus's eyes as he spoke. Unfortunately, his vision was growing hazy as he struggled to breathe. Remus's grip on him slackened the smallest bit, and Harry took his opportunity. He thrust his hips up and to the side, throwing Remus off, and scrambled out from underneath him. Remus landed by the chair with a loud thump. His reflexes were sharp, though, and he immediately drew himself into a crouching position, ready to spring.

"I'm sorry," Harry panted. "I had to... couldn't breathe." But Remus was no longer listening. The wolf had momentarily taken over, and his hungry eyes were full of the creature. Remus crept forward toward Harry, stalking him. Harry backed away, feeling a twinge of fear for the first time that night. The predatory smirk Remus was giving him was chilling, to say the least. It was also vaguely erotic.

Harry felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he and Remus circled one another slowly. He wouldn't run, but he would be prepared when Remus pounced.

And he was. Remus was on top of him in a flash, all searing skin and clawing fingers and biting, snapping jaws. Harry flipped him over, pinning him again, grabbing a throw from the chair in the process and shoving it into Remus's mouth, gagging him.

Remus growled, flailing wildly. Harry could feel the man's heart racing faster than a jackrabbit's underneath his thin robes.

"Shh... calm down," he whispered, but Remus was in no mood to be shushed. He made a howling noise in the back of his throat, trying to work the blanket out of his mouth. Harry grabbed it on either side and held it tightly against the floor, immobilizing Remus's head.

"That's a good boy," he said softly. "I'm trying to help you. That's all I'm trying to do." He could have sworn he heard a raw, muffled laugh from Remus, but he wasn't sure. Remus stilled, his chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm. Harry looked into those eyes that held the most compelling mixture of wolf and man. He saw there the wildness, the desperation, the hatred of being confined, mixed with fear, shame, and - Oh God - burning desire.

Harry slowly removed the gag from Remus's mouth, never taking his eyes from those of the werewolf. Remus worked his jaw, scowling at Harry and wincing at the pain.

"Now, are you going to behave?" Harry asked.

Remus scowled deeper, a low rumble emanating from his chest. "Get the hell out of here, Harry," he snarled. "Go before I do something we'll both regret." His voice was husky with emotion, with feral lust. Harry wasn't expecting what happened next.

Quick as lightning, Remus thrust his hips upwards, making intense, almost painful contact with Harry's pelvis. Harry gasped in shock at the sensations that coursed through him, not of least of which being his own throbbing desire.

Remus raised his head and captured Harry's lips in a bruising kiss, nipping and biting at the boy's sensitive mouth. In a flash he had rolled on top of Harry, changing the dynamic once again. He brought Harry's wrists above his head, grinding them into the floor.

"I told you," he said raggedly. "I told you to go... oh God, Harry, why didn't you just go?"

Harry looked up at him defiantly. "Because I couldn't. I couldn't just leave you here to rot in this hell, to hurt yourself -"

"Who says I hurt myself?" Remus growled. Harry broke one wrist free and grabbed Remus's arm, shoving up the sleeve of his robe and revealing the forearm, criss-crossed with pale white scars.

"I suppose those are all from paper cuts?" Harry said, his words lighter than his tone. Remus flung his hand away, and moved to raise up, but before he could, Harry grabbed him around the waist, pulling Remus's body flush against his own. Remus gasped, first in embarrassment at his body's reaction to Harry's sudden nearness, then at the realization that Harry quite obviously felt the same.

"Harry, no," he said, fighting to regain control of himself. "Not like this. Not with the full moon almost up. Please. Go now, please just wait." Remus was struggling for every coherent sentence, every rational thought he could summon. But Harry wasn't listening. He was pressing up into Remus, insistently rocking against him, and Remus couldn't have controlled himself had he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Harry moaned, his face pressed into Remus's chest. "I'm sorry for what happened in the attic. I don't care... I don't care who you think of... I just want... want you..."

Remus pulled back, staring into Harry's enormous eyes. "Oh, Harry," he said quietly, pain struggling to overtake his desire. "I would never.... I couldn't... think of someone else. Not when I'm with you. In the attic... that was just... it was a mistake. And I'm so sorry for it. You're not Sirius, Harry, no matter how much you're like him." and Harry knew without a doubt that this was Remus speaking, and only him. "You're your own..." he whispered, "my own."

It was Remus's last comprehensible thought. He gathered Harry into his arms and proceeded to carry him up the stairs, kicking in the door to his room.

A short while later, Remus and Harry both drifted into a light sleep as twilight fell around them. Remus didn't awaken until he felt his bones begin to distort and contract painfully. In a panic, he realized Harry was still lying beside him, asleep and innocent. Naked and exposed on his bed. He tried to run, tried to lurch off the bed, but it was too late, the transformation would soon be complete. He had given in to the wolf, and Remus was no longer in control.

***

Harry woke up to a slight tickle against his face. He giggled, pushing it away, his eyes remaining shut, until he heard a snapping noise and felt a rush of air. He looked up and saw the wolf standing atop him, front paws weighing heavily on his chest. The wolf was biting and snarling, amber-green eyes glowing in the eerie moonlight.

"Remus," Harry whispered, searching those eyes for some sign of the man he now knew he was in love with. "Remus, please. I know you can hear me..."

His sentence was left unfinished though, as he felt a sharp pain to his shoulder, and the world suddenly went black.

***

Remus awoke to the sounds of shallow breathing. He looked around fuzzily, his arms and legs sore after the transformation. "Harry?" he said softly. There was no answer. Panicking, he pushed himself up and looked frantically around.

There, just behind the stairwell. A mop of raven hair. How had they gotten downstairs? Remus couldn't remember leaving the bedroom. Didn't remember anything beyond Harry waking up underneath him. And then... and then...

"Harry? Are you asleep?" But no. Remus knew what the shallow breathing was, he knew what that sound meant. With trembling hands, he made his way to the stairwell. Harry was on his stomach, arms sprawled carelessly, face hidden by his messy hair, wrapped in a sheet. Remus was terrified what he might fight when he rolled the boy over, but he knew he had to.

Gripping Harry's shoulder, he took a breath and flipped him over, and just as quickly, gasped and sank to his knees.

There it was, a bite mark, just under Harry's collarbone. It was bloody and bruised, looking raw and purple in the pale light of dawn. Harry's eyes fluttered back and forth under his eyelids, and his breath rasped in his chest. His skin was clammy, a sickly pallor settling over his face.

"Oh God," Remus muttered, placing an arm under Harry's knees and the other under his neck, gently lifting him. "Oh, please let it not be deep. Please, just let it not be deep."

Remus was out the door in a heartbeat. Harry was too heavy to put on his broomstick in such a state, and he would never be able to apparate with him. The village wasn't far though, and Remus was sure even in his weakened state, he could make it.

As he trudged through the front door and set off toward the village, Harry held protectively in his arms, Remus could only repeat one thing over and over - it became his mantra, stronger with every step: "Please don't let it be deep, please don't let it be too deep, please..."