Entitlements

"Entitlements"

by Professor Mary

***

Harry nervously stirred his coffee and tried to actually comprehend the article he had been looking at for the last half an hour. It was no use, though. Every time he re-read a paragraph, he'd stop in the middle and look around the café, hoping to see one person in particular.

"Harry, you have to prepare yourself, he's changed," Hermione had said only last week. Harry sighed aloud. It didn't matter. He didn't care if his friend had grown horns or permanently kept his tail. He missed him. He needed him back in his life. And today's much-fought-for meeting would give him the opportunity to voice those needs.

"They did things to him, mate. Bad things. And now..." but Ron hadn't finished his thought. Both of his best friends had been there when the prisoners had been found. They saw him first hand. Harry had been otherwise engaged and hadn't seen any of the captives until it was all over. And by the time he'd returned to Hogwarts, many of the worst cases had already been relocated to St. Mungo's.

Remus had been one of them.

He'd had his own room. It was a necessity, actually. Harry winced as he remembered Dumbledore describing the curses that had been used on him. He didn't understand the technical details. But he did know that Remus had been tortured and experimented on- that he'd been given potions to enhance his lycanthropy. Dumbledore and Hermione had speculated that Voldemort wanted his own "pet" werewolf. And Voldemort liked to attack Harry personally. How better to do that than to claim Harry's beloved friend as his own?

Remus had been isolated in the hospital for months longer than some of the more seriously injured. And when he was released, he'd practically disappeared, skipping his Order of Merlin induction ceremony.

That had really been a disappointment for Harry. He'd waited so long to see his friend- so long to talk to him. He'd tried to be understanding when Remus consistently refused to see him in the hospital. He'd tried to make do with unanswered owls and Ron and Hermione's lame explanations.

He tried to not to blame himself for Remus's rejection.

Giving up on his article, Harry closed his eyes and remembered the last time he'd seen Remus. That last evening. He'd replayed those fleeting moments so often that they had a dreamlike quality now. He was no longer certain of what had actually happened.

What he did remember was a calm presence, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, a soothing voice whispering in his ear, and then, a gentle kiss. Since then, he taken the time to leisurely reexamine his memories and thus, he'd added a whole repertoire of casual touches, meaningful glances, and shared words with embedded meanings. Remus had loved him. Harry was sure of it. But he hadn't recognized it until after Remus had gone.

He was almost angry with the man. After that last meeting, Harry had realized that Remus was saying goodbye. But Remus had survived. There was no reason to push Harry away any longer. And Harry'd said as much in his letters. He'd made sure that Remus knew exactly how he felt. He loved him, too.

He'd asked Hermione, Ron, and even Dumbledore why Remus continued to refuse to see him. They didn't have any answers. He'd asked them if Remus was scarred or maimed, not that it mattered to Harry at all. Each of them had been hesitant about answering that. Dumbledore had shrugged and said, "We're all scarred, Harry." Hermione had looked at him worriedly and said that not all scars were physical. Ron's answer had been the most troubling. He'd been unable to say anything and had just gripped his shoulder for a long moment.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, taking in the bustle of the café. He looked at his watch. He'd been waiting for more than an hour. And he'd continue to wait, too. He'd waited for eight months just to get an owl from the man. He could certainly hold out a while longer to see him here.

He picked up his reading and held it closer to his face as if that would help him process the words. Of course, this really only made it easier to look around the room all the while pretending to read. That was when he saw a relatively young man sitting nearby, watching him intently.

Remus had been the one to suggest the Muggle café. And Harry had obliged. He couldn't really go anywhere in the wizarding public after the war - not unless he wanted to sign autographs or be stared at or talked to, or simply touched. But this young man was openly staring at him now, almost menacingly. Harry quickly looked down at his magazine, feeling a flush rise over his cheeks.

When he stood to refresh his coffee, he allowed himself to glance at the other man who now appeared to be engrossed in the newspaper. As surreptitiously as possible, Harry took in the man's wavy dark brown hair, flawless pale skin, and wiry frame. His simple Muggle pants and knit shirt did nothing to detract from his easy elegance. He was quite good-looking and appeared to be no older than Harry himself. He sighed and felt a rush of guilt. He'd come here to pick up the pieces of whatever was left with Remus, not to goggle other men. Yet when he sat back down, his gaze strayed to the man.

Harry revised his earlier assessment. The man was very good-looking. Harry couldn't pinpoint it but there was something about this person- he felt like he couldn't help but look at him. He chalked it up to animal magnetism and his own frustrated hormones and tried, once again, to focus his attention on his magazine.

A light feminine voice jolted him out of his vain attempts at reading. It seemed that he wasn't the only one succumbing to the young man's allure.

"Excuse me? Are you finished with that section?" a lovely blond woman asked flirtatiously, pointing to the pile of newspapers in front of the dark-haired man. Harry felt an unaccountable surge of jealously as he watched the man give the woman some of the papers.

Harry gripped his coffee mug tightly. But the man suddenly turned to him and smiled- a dangerous kind of smile. And Harry spilt his coffee. He looked down at his wet pants leg, feeling embarrassed and clumsy, and then reached for a napkin.

When he looked back up, the man was gone and Harry had to bite back his disappointment. Just as well, he thought. I'm here for Remus.

"Are you waiting for someone?" a throaty voice asked from just behind his ear.

Harry shuddered as warm breath ghosted across his neck. The object of his scrutiny sat down at his table and favored him with a tight smile and a raised eyebrow.

Harry forgot to answer.

The man was now sporting a grin, though Harry thought it more along the lines of an animal baring its teeth at its prey.

"Whoever you're waiting for isn't going to show," he said, still grinning.

Harry swallowed but found that he still had no answer for this handsome man.

"I suppose you'll have to make do with me," he taunted and Harry started at the somewhat malicious tone of the man's voice.

The man was laughing now, though Harry couldn't discern anything particularly joyful in the sound.

"Harry." He had stopped laughing - stopped grinning - and was now simply looking at Harry, watching him and waiting.

Harry's eyes swept over the smooth pale face, the thick dark hair, the full red lips - searching for some recognition. The eyes. They were still the same. Brown with gold flecks. But there was no warmth there any longer.

"Remus?" he croaked.

"Yes, Harry. It's me, I'm afraid. Well, what's left of me," he said harshly.

Harry took several deep breaths in a row and cursed his shaky hands.

"I missed you," Harry said.

The feral grin returned.

"I see," he said and then simply stared at Harry.

Harry was now feeling distinctly uncomfortable under that ferocious gaze. He shifted nervously in his seat. After several minutes, it became clear to Harry that the man wasn't going to volunteer anything.

"Remus, what happened to you?" he asked softly.

"I don't even know where to begin to answer your question, Harry," Remus sneered. "Try something else."

Harry recoiled as if he'd been slapped.

"Er... why do you look so young?" he squeaked.

Remus laughed severely. "That'd be the lycanthropy, Harry. I doubt I'll ever age again," he spat.

"And is that why you look different, too? Your hair and skin?" Harry ventured carefully.

"I suppose," Remus replied in a bored tone.

Harry floundered for a few minutes, vacillating about what to ask next. He wanted to know why Remus had been avoiding him. But the anticipated caustic response was not something he was sure he could stand.

"Do you remember everything?"

Remus nearly growled, "Of course. I have lycanthropy not dementia."

"Then you remember saying goodbye- that last night..." Harry trailed off, unable to tear his eyes away from Remus's cool stare.

"Indeed."

Harry gripped his hands together, willing them to stop shaking.

"Have you changed your mind, then?"

Remus took a deep breath and looked uncomfortable for the first time since he'd sat down with Harry.

"I didn't change my mind, Harry-" Remus started.

Harry looked up expectantly.

"Someone else did that," he finished.

Remus drummed his long fingers against the table and Harry kept his silence.

"The person you're waiting for is gone, Harry. And this is all that is left," he snorted. "I don't expect you to maintain your promises to the dead."

Harry continued to sit in shocked silence.

Remus seemed to have had enough. He stood up and glared down at Harry.

"You've paid your respects. Go home. Don't waste your time mourning me, Harry. Let me go," he said in the closest thing to a gentle voice he'd used all night.

He turned before Harry could say anything and walked out of the café.

Harry blinked several times and considered pinching himself. What the fuck was that all about? he thought desperately. After about a minute, Harry jumped out of seat and ran out of the café, catching sight of a dark haired man just turning a street corner.

"Wait!" he demanded as he ran after Remus.

Remus never slowed his pace, though even in his sprint, Harry noted that he didn't Apparate away either. After a few minutes, Harry caught up with him.

"I said, wait!" he sputtered angrily.

Remus turned around, his eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. But he said nothing.

Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearby alley.

"Remus, I won't let you walk out of my life again," Harry said, still panting.

Remus smirked but said nothing. Harry felt his own frustration begin to boil under his skin.

"So you've changed. So what? You're young and good looking and clearly have anger management issues. You survived a fucking war, Remus!"

Remus threw off Harry's grip, and slammed the other man against the wall.

"Part of me did," he jeered threateningly directly into Harry's face.

"You still care for me," Harry snarled.

"You think so, do you?"

"You wouldn't have pushed me away if you didn't still love me," Harry said angrily.

Harry made no motion to push off the other man but stood firm against him, his mouth set in a flat angry line.

Harry watched as the ugly jeer melted into that maddening grin. Remus leaned in closer to him and sniffed, pausing to breathe across his neck.

"Would you really call this love?" he asked in a raspy voice and then ducked his head into the warm space just behind Harry's ear.

Harry felt a hand come up into his hair, gently at first before it gripped him harshly, jerking his head back. He moaned when he felt a wet rough tongue slide down from his ear to the hollow at the base of his throat.

Teeth were now nipping the same trail across his neck and Harry was beginning to feel dizzy from lust. He wanted to put his arms around the man but found them both trapped under a fierce grip.

"Remus... don't- I ... want to kiss you," he panted weakly.

"Shut up," Remus hissed as he ran his tongue down the slope of Harry's neck. Harry groaned aloud.

Harry tried to breathe normally. But as rough hands invaded his body, he felt himself struggling for air. He turned his head slightly to the right to ease some of the strain of Remus's grip on his hair. Even as his shirt was roughly yanked out of his pants, Harry found himself distantly noting a battered green dumpster across the alley.

"Remus--" Harry tried again, raising his hands to the other man's chest.

The hand that had been gripping his head, gave a harsh tug, and Harry was snapped back against the brick wall hard enough to see spots.

This is not happening, Harry thought despairingly through a haze of pain and desire. He felt his body temperature rising, his heart pounding in his ears. His own body was betraying him. Yes, he missed Remus. Yes, he wanted Remus. In all honestly, he wanted the good-looking bloke currently rubbing his hand against his hardened cock through his clothes.

But not like this.

Harry bit his lip - harder than Remus was biting his shoulder. Anything to force his attention away from the body grinding into his. He had to stop this.

This wasn't his Remus.

He willed himself to focus on something other than what Remus was evoking from his body. Even as a hand dipped below the waistband of his trousers, Harry was inanely trying to identify the different smells of the alley.

The hand closed around his hard cock... stroking almost desperately.

Harry kept his head turned away, despite Remus's death grip on his hair.

That would be ... yes, that would be petrol, he thought.

The hand was fervently stroking his cock now. And Harry was also distantly aware of Remus thrusting against his left hipbone.

And that, that's the smell of raw sewage, Harry thought. Or bad eggs.

Harry was close now. He was staring at the newspapers strewn about the dumpster as if they alone could afford him salvation. He tried so hard to keep his eyes on the papers. He squinted to make out the headlines of one the less-matted ones.

"Police report several violent attacks at a local park..."

He heard a loud groan. It could have been from him. He couldn't tell.

His breathing was labored. He found a faded spot of graffiti on the opposite wall, some misspelled swear word.... he trained his eyes on it, even as felt his body begin to climax.

He felt a sharp bite again, just at the top of his shoulder. He heard grunting in his ear. He was slammed against the wall, this time by the sudden grinding of Remus's pelvis.

He came then, waves of lust and shame washing over him. Drowning him.

A few lost minutes later, Harry opened his eyes and noticed his surroundings again. He was still trapped between the wall and Remus's quivering body. The smell of sex was heavy in the air, not yet mixing with the other foul scents in the alley.

Not wanting to startle Remus, Harry slowly raised his arms and wrapped them around the other man's shoulders.

He was beginning to make out other sounds now... sounds of cars, doors slamming shut, even voices. Everything seemed a long way off though, as if Harry and Remus were still disconnected from the outside world.

Then, rather suddenly, he became aware of a harsh racking noise. Someone was crying. Not crying but sobbing. Huge horrible sobs. The kind that were sure to leave one's eyes puffy and throat strained the next day. He held Remus closer.

But Remus pulled away, though not completely out of Harry's grasp.

"Harry," he said in a tone too grating to be gentle.

"Harry, stop," he said, a bit more loudly.

He pulled out a handkerchief then, quickly wiping away the sticky mess from his hands. He was laughing but Harry could still hear crying.

Remus threw the soiled cloth onto the ground where it mingled with the other trash.

He shook off Harry's arms and stood directly before him, staring.

"Harry, enough!" He'd stopped laughing.

He raised his right hand then, trailing it across Harry's bruised cheek. Harry immediately covered it with his own hand. He was surprised by the wetness he found, on Remus's fingers and his face.

Abruptly, he stopped crying and found himself gasping for air.

Remus left his hand on Harry's cheek where it was almost soothing, until he found his breath again.

For a long moment, Harry locked his gaze with Remus's.

"This," Remus said, finally, gesturing with his hands, "this will not work, Harry. I hope you understand that now."

But he didn't leave. He still stood before Harry as if he was giving him the opportunity to pass judgment.

So that's it, Harry thought.

"I don't hate you, Remus. I won't."

Remus laughed then- and it was as dark and malevolent a sound as it was earlier. Harry suppressed a shiver.

"I hate myself."

Harry could see that Remus was shuddering himself again. Whatever had passed between them- whatever that was- sex- or violence- or both... for a few moments, it had rendered Remus as open as he was likely to be. Harry had to say something. Something to reach the other man.

"We survived the War. Self-hate comes with that."

It sounded profound, if a bit hollow, in Harry's ears. He'd heard Hermione say something very similar. Surely, that would be enough.

But Remus was turning away. His hands were already tidying up his wrinkled clothes.

Harry grabbed his arm, fully aware that this is what had started the whole violent encounter.

"You're not his ... please," he begged, though frustration was clearly seeping into his words.

He was not above begging. Not even after... that. He'd waited so long for Remus. He'd be damned if that werewolf was going anywhere away from him now.

Remus's upper lip curled slightly and he made a low noise in the back of his throat- something not unlike a warning or a growl. But he didn't pull away.

"Do you think you're that different?" Harry asked in a much sharper voice.

Remus looked at him- or rather looked right through him.

"No, I mean from me. Do you think you're so different from me, Remus?"

Harry could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

"You will not leave me again." It wasn't a question.

Remus stepped closer then. Part of Harry- probably the bruised, bleeding, and raped part- couldn't help but want to cower. But he ignored that and took strength from the swelling anger in his chest.

He was entitled to this. Whatever this was. Whoever Remus was now.

Remus belonged to him.

He tried being patient, nice, loving, and forgiving. And all of those feelings were still there, too. But those weren't going to work right now. Of that, Harry was suddenly very sure.

Remus was standing so close that Harry could feel his hot breath inches from his face.

Those brown eyes were wide - desire flaring to life again. Desire and other darker things.

Harry put his hands on the other man's shoulders, firmly drawing him in - wanting so badly that kiss that he'd been previously denied.

He didn't dare close his eyes. Rather he kept them fixed on the brown ones- nearly black with longing, now- as he brought his lips down on Remus's mouth.

This was different from what Harry remembered... and from what he'd expected. There was almost nothing to indicate that he was even kissing the same man from eight months ago.... except, there- Harry's tongue found Remus's - and there, there was the taste. It was still the same.

Harry moaned as the surge of old memories flooded his brain- threatening to drown him for a second time.

He wrapped his arms fully around Remus, his tongue marking and claiming and assaulting the other mouth.

When he pulled away, he looked back into Remus's eyes. And he saw what he'd been waiting for. Finally.

And he wasn't frightened of what this was going to be about. He could hear his friends' warnings echoing through his head. Things were falling into place now. This Remus had been designed for one owner. And Harry had killed him.

As was the old Remus, this Remus was his, too.