Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter Remus Lupin
Genres:
Angst Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 12/17/2003
Updated: 12/17/2003
Words: 1,520
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,062

The Misery of Turning Sixteen

S. Hart

Story Summary:
At three in the morning on July 31st, 1996, Harry and Remus meet up in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Angst ensues. Very mild slash.

Posted:
12/17/2003
Hits:
1,062
Author's Note:
Thanks to Shayla and Caroline for beta reading. This is not related to "Time Enough But None to Spare." Warnings for Harry being


At three in the morning on Harry Potter's sixteenth birthday, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was dark and still. Harry, who felt like he hadn't slept since June, stood in the kitchen, staring at the birthday cake he knew he wasn't supposed to have seen until that evening. He didn't want a cake, much less a party, but he knew that Mrs. Weasley was going to give him one anyway. Because that was what well-adjusted, happy, normal young men wanted on their birthdays. And, of course, the newest racing broom on the market and a pretty girl to sneak off with afterwards.

But he wasn't well-adjusted, he wasn't normal, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy. He didn't think he'd ever want any other broom besides his beloved Firebolt, no matter how many better models came out, and he found himself devoid of any desire to sneak off with pretty girls. Cho seemed to have cured him of his curiosity. He'd kissed her, and found it wanting. And now he didn't care. Nothing mattered.

"You're not supposed to see that," a voice said from behind him, and Harry turned to find Lupin looking at him with a sleepy-eyed expression of mixed disapproval and fondness.

"I know," Harry said with a sigh, closing the door to the icebox. "I just wanted some milk." He poured himself a glass to cover the fact the kitchen had actually only been a short detour. He'd just couldn't stay in his bed any longer. He'd wander the house until five or so, then lie down and wait for everyone else to wake up.

"She spent all day yesterday on it," Lupin said. Harry nodded, and then glanced at him questioningly. Lupin nodded and Harry poured him a glass as well.

"It was very nice of her," Harry said. "But I wish she wouldn't."

"Harry," Lupin said, and now he sounded vaguely disappointed.

Harry felt a flare of shame, followed shortly by anger. "It's not my fault she won't listen when I tell her what I want. I told her a week ago that I didn't want a party, and just because she didn't believe me doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it. I meant it, I don't want a party." Lupin shook his head, and Harry scowled deeply. "I should go hide in one of the upstairs bedrooms," he muttered. "Serve them all for not listening."

"Harry," Lupin said, very sharply this time. Harry refused to look at him. "I know you're in pain -"

"I'm not."

"Oh yes, you are," Lupin said, reminding Harry of Dumbledore on the night Sirius had died. The connection infuriated him. "You are hurting and you've been taking it out on everyone around you since you got here. It's not fair."

Harry stood up and poured his milk down the drain. He was through here. "I'm sorry," he said harshly, his back to Lupin. "But some of us don't have ice in our blood. Just because you can go around like it's business as usual, when it bloody well isn't - that doesn't mean that I can." He put the glass down in the sink so hard that for a moment, he was afraid it would shatter. But it didn't break, and he turned to leave.

"Is that what you think?" Lupin asked softly.

Harry paused, almost to the door. "It's what you act like," he said, not turning around. "I walked in with Tonks last week and you just said, 'Hello, Harry. We've got your things and they're in the same room as last year.' Like nothing has changed."

"I'm sorry," Lupin said. "I thought that you might not want to talk about it."

"I don't know if I do or not," Harry said, finally turning to face him. "But since no one will even mention Sirius's name in front of me, I haven't really had the chance to find out, have I?"

"I suppose not."

"And - and no one's acting any different towards me. I mean, the Weasleys are wonderful, they always have been, but they don't . . . they don't . . ." Harry sighed, breaking off in frustration.

"They don't what?" Lupin prompted gently.

Harry glared at him for a moment, unutterably furious, and then said, almost without realizing it, "They don't belong to me." He stopped in surprise at his own words, and saw Lupin nod with understanding. "I guess . . . I mean, Mrs. Weasley says I'm like her son, but I'm not. I'm not her son and she's not my mother. No matter how many parties she gives me, she's not mine." Harry swallowed hard. "Sirius was mine."

"I know."

"And I thought - but there hasn't - I don't have any right -" Bloody fucking hell. He was going to start crying. He turned away again. "I'm going to bed."

"What don't you have the right to do?" Lupin asked, ignoring his declaration altogether.

Harry shook his head. "Never mind."

"No, Harry, tell me."

"No."

"Harry."

Harry put his face in his hands. He never cried. Ever. Not after getting back from the Ministry. Not once in his room at Privet Drive. Not since being here, even though it hurt to be in this house, and part of him was horribly angry with everyone for making him stay here. Here, or Privet Drive, he had been told, and he had chosen here, perhaps wrongly.

A gentle touch on his shoulder made Harry jump. He turned and saw Lupin looking at him with concerned amber eyes. "What don't you have the right to do?"

"Ask you," Harry said, softly, helplessly. "I don't have any right after everything that's happened to ask you to . . . to . . . help me." Take care of me.

"Ah," Lupin said, but didn't remove his hand.

Harry swiped at his face with one hand. "It's just . . . it's not fair. To you, I mean. And," he added, starting to laugh a bit hysterically, "it's definitely not safe. I mean, look at my record for - for - parents -" He broke off, and suddenly realized that he wasn't laughing. He was sobbing. "Sirius, and my parents," he forced out. "I couldn't stand it if you - and I never get to keep . . ."

"Oh Harry," Lupin said, and drew him closer. Harry buried his face in Lupin's shoulder for a moment, and then turned his head so that he could speak clearly.

"I never get to keep anything good," he said bleakly. He heard Lupin's breath hitch, and his arms tightened around Harry, a solid weight anchoring him to Earth. He felt safe here, but that feeling was deceptive. He couldn't have this, he just couldn't. It wasn't meant for him. Somewhere it was written that everyone who loved Harry Potter would die, and so after just a few moments, Harry pulled away. "I should go to bed," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Lupin said, sounding slightly choked. He cleared his throat, and kept hold of Harry's hand. "And you do have the right."

Harry shook his head. "Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it," Lupin said, stepping forward. He cupped Harry's face in his hands and stared into his eyes searchingly. "I'm sorry for the way I've behaved since you got here. I didn't know what you wanted or what I had to give." He smoothed his thumb over Harry's cheek, wiping away a stray tear track. Harry closed his eyes at the gesture, feeling a hungry ache for tenderness that he hadn't even known existed. "I can't be Sirius. And I can't be your parents."

"I know," Harry whispered, even as he thought that Sirius would never have cupped his face like this, or spoken so gently. And then he immediately felt ashamed. "You don't have to be either of them. I don't want you to be."

He opened his eyes and was momentarily surprised at how close their faces were. He could see the pain lines around Lupin's mouth, but also the lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. There had been so much pain in Lupin's life, Harry knew. But there had been happiness as well. There had been deep friendship and love, and he thought that maybe, to Lupin, that had been worth the pain. And maybe, Harry thought, with a hopefulness that he didn't often let himself entertain . . . just maybe there could still be happiness for both of them.

And then he was kissing Lupin, ever so softly. A bare touch of lips, of soft skin pressing against soft skin, and of hot breath mingling for a moment. Harry's head spun with the inconceivability of what he'd just done before it was even over, but somehow he couldn't regret it. Not like Sirius, he thought.

Harry pulled away, and this time Lupin let him go. "Thank you," Harry whispered, and turned to leave.

Just before he closed the door, he thought he heard a hoarse voice say, "Happy Birthday."


Author notes: Reviewers make better lovers. *wink*