Being The First

Weddings. Weddings and funerals. Those were the two big ones. Oh, and blackouts, but blackouts didn't usually bother wizards much. And war. Because war scared people, like funerals. That was the difference. Weddings were all about love and so naturally one thought about it, and blackouts, well, what else was there to do? But war and funerals scared people into it.

Weddings also scared Remus Lupin. There was such an awful finality about them, even when most of them ended in divorce anyway. He was a man who saw a thing through. If he ever married, he was in until the death.

Which was just one reason among many that he never had.

But it was hard, he would admit, to be frightened of this wedding. It's very difficult to be scared when the people being married are people you watched grow up; are comrades in arms and good friends into the bargain.

Hermione looked lovely, of course. Ron just looked awkward, with his red hair slicked back and his dress robes, for once, brand new. Hermione's parents were there, quite nice folks, very tolerant Muggles. They'd agreed that a wizarding wedding was best. Apparently they'd never been terribly religious to begin with.

Remus lurked along the edges of the giant tent-roof that had been erected in the park for the reception. It didn't rain, of course; that had been Dumbledore's wedding gift to them, along with a very nice gravy boat.

It was good to see everyone together again. All the Weasleys, bursting with pride, some of the older ones with wives and children of their own, and Ginny with her boyfriend, a nice Muggle chap with enormous ears.

But still he lurked, because he wasn't very good at socialising, and he didn't really want to be; he liked to watch how the others spoke, relished how happy everyone seemed to be. A perfect day for a perfect wedding. Yes. As it should be.

The toasts had long ago been made and the meal eaten, and the dances danced; Harry -- of course he was their best man, who else could possibly be the witness to the marriage of his two best friends? -- Harry had danced with all the bridesmaids, and Molly Weasley, and Tonks, who had laughed and flirted with him shamelessly.

It fit him, Remus thought to himself. Harry was always going to be just outside the crowd. He could be nothing but Best Man. That was how it had to be. It was a part of the myth that seemed to control the lad's life.

We're more alike than you think we are, Harry my lad...

As if his thoughts had conjured Harry, demon-like, the boy appeared out of the dim tent, stumbling against one of the support poles, and laughing at his own clumsiness.

"Hallo, Remus, I din't see you there," he managed, straightening himself only by gripping the pole in one hand and a convenient chair in the other. "Bloody great wedding, eh?"

"It was nice," Remus agreed. "I'm happy for them. They're going to bicker their way through life very pleasantly."

"Hah. Shout is more like it. Shout, shout, shout. When we were at school that was damn near all they did, by the end," Harry said. "Shout and snog."

"Sounds fine to me."

Harry laughed loudly. "It does at that, doesn't it? Seems as though the party's breaking up now," he added, a bit mournfully.

Remus glanced around. It was true; people were slowly leaving, shaking Ron and Hermione's hands as they left, waving and congratulating the proud parents. Remus was about to ask if they ought to join the queue when Harry slipped, seemingly on nothing, and tumbled over.

"Here, how much've you had to drink?" Remus said, catching him quickly under the elbow. Harry laughed again.

"Far, far too much," he said, nodding sagely.

"Yes, I can see that."

"It's a celebration!" Harry waved his arm, nearly knocking Remus over too. "Didn't you drink?"

"I don't drink. Doesn't agree with me."

"Shame that," Harry said, hauling himself bodily up, using Remus' shoulder as a handhold. He was as tall as the other man, still skinny, his hair still unmanageable, though now quite a bit shorter than it had been. Remus wondered idly when Harry had grown up. He hadn't really noticed it at the time.

"Let's go give our respects," Harry blurted. "Give us a hand, Remus?"

"I think an arm'd be more appropriate," Remus replied, slinging his shoulder under Harry's. "How're you getting home?" he asked, as they made their way towards Ron and Hermione.

"Floo," Harry muttered, waving at the bonfire going nearby. People were stepping into it quite casually.

"You'll never get home that way, you'll get lost somewhere -- Hallo Hermione!" Remus said brightly. "Lovely reception."

"Thank you," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Wouldn't miss it. Congratulations, Ron. You don't deserve her, you know that."

"Aye, I know," Ron said. And when had Ron become such a broad-shouldered, serious-faced young man? Surely he must have been about while it had been happening. "Doing my best, though."

Harry, standing on his own now, was embracing Hermione, who wrinkled her nose. "Did you drink all the dragonwine, Harry?"

"Just most of it," Harry replied. "S'tradition, that. Ron, you bastard," he added, grabbing Ron's hand and shaking it firmly. Ron laughed. "Never forgive you for getting married, you know."

"Sorry, Harry. It had to happen sooner or later," Ron replied, grinning.

Remus noticed that Harry's smile did not quite reach his eyes.

And his hand gripped Ron's a little too tightly.

Interesting.

"You're not going home in that state, are you?" Ron continued. Harry shook his head.

"Got Professor Lupin looking after me. Chaperonin'. Aren't you?" Harry asked, turning to Remus, who nodded.

"I'll get him home, no fear," he said. "We'll just catch a cab like the Muggles are doing, right?"

"Oh, you can ride with mum and dad, they decided they'd rather take a taxi than bother with driving," Hermione said. "And Ron's parents are going that way too. Arthur's terrifically excited."

"He's worse off than Harry, you mean," Ron said with a grin.

"That'd take some doing," Hermione said, so softly that only Remus heard it. "Look after him, would you?"

"Don't worry," he replied. "Come on, Harry, we'll ride with the Weasleys as far as Diagon Alley, your flat's not far from there. You can sleep it off."

Harry didn't answer, but let himself be led away from Hermione and Ron, who were receiving a heartfelt if somewhat grave congratulation from Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"A real cab!" Arthur was saying, excitedly. He pointed to a pair of headlights that were just beginning to be visible. "Look! Oh, hallo lads -- coming with us, are you?"

"If there's room," Remus replied.

"Should be. Hermione's parents caught another one, it's just us four. Here, Harry, you're all right, aren't you?" Arthur asked. Harry grinned at him.

It still wasn't reaching those green eyes of his.

They were mostly silent on the ride home; Harry's head lolled against the window, and Arthur was busy staring all around him in fascination, while Molly and Remus talked quietly about the wedding. They came to the mutual consensus that it was lovely, the flowers had been nice, Hermione and Ron looked quite well together and all in all it had been a most satisfactory evening. After they left the Weasleys at the Leaky Cauldron, Remus helping with the issue of Muggle payment, it was pretty much silent as they rode onward, except for a few snorts from Harry, until they reached his flat.

"Thanks," Remus said, tipping the driver out of Harry's money and half-hauling the dark-haired man up the stairs. He fumbled in Harry's pockets for his key, opened it, and flicked on the lights, eliciting a startled grunt from Harry.

"Feeling coherent again, are we?" Remus asked, letting him slip onto the couch. He walked to the counter that divided kitchen from living room, and inspected the boxes of tea strewn about. "Care for something a little less alcoholic?"

"I've got alcohol," Harry said, protesting.

"Yes, but unless you want your liver to actually physically dissolve, I think you oughtn't to drink it," Remus replied. Harry let his head hang back on the sofa. "I'd no idea you were such a fierce celebrator, Harry."

"A what?" Harry asked, amused.

"I didn't think you went in for drunken revels."

"I don't," Harry replied. "But when my best friends are getting married...to each other, mind you..."

"Yes, I can see how you'd want to...enjoy yourself. Sorry I'm the one bringing you home, come to that, and not one of those very pretty bridesmaids."

"Since I would be so terribly useful tonight if a girl wanted to take me home," Harry drawled. Remus laughed as he muttered a few words over a kettleful of water, and it whistled instantly.

"Can I ask you quite a personal question?" he said, putting a tea-bag into the pot and pouring the hot water in.

"About the only time I'll ever answer one, yes," Harry replied. "Long as it's not about...you know."

Yes.

Remus did know.

As long as it wasn't about the last battle. As long as it wasn't about Voldemort. Because they did not talk about that. No, they did not.

"I always thought you rather fancied Hermione," Remus said. "Sugar?"

"No."

"No sugar, or no you never fancied Hermione?"

"Both." Harry rubbed his face, and sat forward. "You read people, don't you?"

"I try not to, when they're my friends."

"I'm happy for them," Harry insisted.

"I've no doubt," Remus answered. "Cream or lemon?"

"No and no. I am happy. For them. For both of them. Happy Harry."

"But that wasn't why you were drinking tonight, was it?" Remus asked. He walked back into the living room, and handed Harry a mug, pouring for him before he filled his own, which had sugar already in it.

"It was never Hermione," Harry said, sipping his tea. "Christ, did I say no sugar?"

"Here, have mine." Remus offered his sweetened tea, and Harry took it.

"Ta. It wasn't Hermione," Harry repeated. "If you must know, it was Ron."

Then he looked up, horrified.

"I just said that, didn't I?" he asked.

Remus smiled gently.

"I thought it might have been that, too," he said, sipping slowly. "I didn't want to say anything. I didn't know you...erm..." he trailed off.

"I erm." Harry sighed, and sat back again, tea resting on one knee. "I very erm."

"I wish I'd known."

"Me too." Harry laughed. "That I'd known, I mean. Then I finally figured out why the girls I went out with invariably got boring as soon as we got past hand-holding. I didn't want to hold hands with girls. I didn't know what anyone would think...Ron knows -- not about him, I mean, he just knows I...erm. And Hermione, and Lee Jordan, which is a story I desperately do not want to get into right now," he said, still staring at the ceiling.

"Did you think I'd disapprove?" Remus asked gently. He sat on the coffee table, in front of the couch, facing Harry.

"I didn't want to take the chance," Harry replied. He leaned forward again, and put his mug next to Remus, on the table. "What if you had? One more person I was going to lose."

"Harry, have you given ten seconds' thought at a time to why I am not married?" Remus asked. "Why I have never once introduced you to a girl-friend, a wife?"

Harry's green eyes found his, and he blinked, slowly.

"Did you think you were the only one in the world who fancied men?" Remus said with a grin.

"You?"

"Me."

"But you're..." Harry looked at him, brows drawn together. "But you never..."

"Neither did you," Remus pointed out.

"Well yes, but I -- I am not dealing with this well..." Harry leaned forward, and put his head in his hands.

"You've had a bit to drink and a couple of shocks. It'll be fine in the morning," Remus said. He leaned forward, trying to tactfully see if Harry had passed out. "I'll stay on your couch, it's no..."

Harry lifted his head. Remus caught his breath.

Never once, while Harry was in school, had Remus Lupin thought about him as...as anything other than a student. When he joined the Order, he'd been a good friend. Slowly he'd evolved, in his teacher's mind, from child into man, but someone who was untouchable, someone who didn't love and shouldn't be loved, not like that.

This was all very hard to think about when Harry Potter's green eyes and his narrow, handsome face were about two inches away.

He was your student, for god's sake --

Yes, ten years ago he was your student, but now he is distinctly grown...and he looks so frightened...

And where was anyone for you when you were twenty-four and heartbroken?

"Harry," Remus said slowly, aware that his voice was catching. "I am aware that I am not Ron, but if you...listen to me, you're the one who's had all the drink and here I am making a fool of myse -- "

Harry Potter kissed him.

It was a good kiss. Obviously Harry'd had someone to practice with. It lasted quite a long time.

He tasted like wine, and a little like sweet tea.

"You're not Ron," Harry said, leaning back slightly. One of his hands touched Remus' collar, sliding into the gap above the first button. "But that's all right."

"Is it?" Remus asked, fascinated. He felt as though he was about seventeen again. Suddenly, the twenty years between himself and the son of his closest friend in the world didn't seem to matter.

"It is," Harry said. "On account of, you were first."

"First what?" Remus asked, confused.

"You were first. Before Ron. Before Lee. I mean..." Harry ran a hand through Remus' hair, affectionately. The touch was so sudden and intimate that the older man shivered. "It was just a crush. Everyone loves their teacher, sooner or later."

"Oh." Remus stared at him. "Oh, Harry..."

"But then I grew up," Harry said, a funny little smile quirking his lips. "And knew it was just a crush. Just like it is on Ron. Was on Ron. That was over, you know, but tonight just...brought that bit of it back. I am happy for them."

"So you've said," Remus murmured.

"But I like you," Harry continued, as if he hadn't heard. "You look awfully good in that suit," he added. "So yeah. You aren't Ron. But you're you."

His thumb drifted over Remus' cheekbone, and he kissed him again. "And if the offer you were about to make..."

"Are you sure?"

"I am very drunk, and I want very much to be with someone tonight, and you are very handsome," Harry managed. "And you were first. So if you don't mind my fumbling..."

Remus smiled. "I should point out that my skill as a teacher is not necessarily indicative of -- "

"You don't have to talk anymore," Harry said, so seriously that they both laughed. "Stay the night?"

"Of course, Harry."

Harry stood, a trifle unsteadily, and Remus followed his lead, leaning in for another kiss, shivering again when he felt Harry's hands on his body, when he realised his own were on Harry's.

"I think I rather like being the first," Remus said. And this time Harry's grin reached all the way to his eyes.

END