Research and Development

Part Four: A Werewolf Mates for Life

The moon began to rise. Remus felt it pulling at every follicle, twisting at his mind and muscles.

Snape grabbed hold of Harry's arm. "Out, boy," he snapped.

"But..."

"Now! Unless you want your own guardian to do unspeakable things to you." Snape's face was twisted into an angry sneer.

But he already has...Harry would have like to reply, but he wouldn't, really. Besides, Snape's hand was crushing his arm, thin fingers biting into his flesh, and he could only wince.

"Don't touch him," Remus snarled, and they both froze. Dear Merlin, thought the werewolf, I'm getting possessive. Protective. This is terrible! I could rip Snape's throat out. "You mustn't touch him," he managed. "And keep your mouth shut, for once. I swear, Snape, if you hurt him..." He couldn't control himself. He could not control the wolf.

"Professor," Harry managed to say to the Potions Master in protest, as he tried to pry his arm away, "You're hurting me."

The sound that came from Remus caused everyone in the room to freeze, and Tonks to wet her pants. It was a low, menacing growl, a primeval noise made unequivocally to run straight up and down one's spine and affect the hind parts of the brain. Snape wrenched his hand away from his student before it'd even registered.

"I'll need to be near him," Remus heard himself say in a gravelly voice. It was no longer his voice, and it no longer voiced his own needs. Well, so be it, then. The path was chosen. "And you're going to have to be more careful with him. Watch yourself, Snivellus..." Somewhere inside that body, Remus flinched. He would never have called Snape that, but the wolf...the wolf had its own plans...The last thing he remembered, before the moonlight struck his body and burned through to his very soul, was the way Harry's wide, innocent eyes stared up at him with absolute trust--a trust that he'd already betrayed.

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Harry laid in the shadows, watching the Potions Master pace, his silhouette outlined by moonlight. He could not see the man's features, but he could feel the suspicious glares being sent in his direction. He tried very hard to breathe evenly, pretending he was asleep. If he could even remember what it was to sleep.

His body should have been tired from the evening's activities--and it was--but his mind was wide awake, and going round and round in circles. He'd had sex with Remus Lupin. It was the best bloody thing that'd ever happened to him. He didn't think Remus felt the same way. About anything. He was probably furious. It hadn't been a quick shag in the Hogwarts' broom closet; they had mated, and mating was forever. And, though Harry had been sure it was the right thing to do, it had turned out to be totally unnecessary. He'd gotten what he wanted, and shagged Remus Lupin--who would probably never forgive him. After all, hadn't Remus said no? Hadn't Remus told Harry he didn't want that--that he'd been Sirius's lover--wonderful Sirius, whom Harry had killed? And hadn't Remus said that although Sirius was gone--perhaps because of some totally scary, subconscious, Oedipus-like compulsion? God, please stop making me think weird shit like that--that he hadn't been ready to move on? And Harry had convinced him to do it. Harry had--had practically raped the man. Because he wasn't really of sound mind at the time, was he? Not with the wolf so close to the surface. Remus had no longer been in control. Harry had no illusions that Remus wouldn't have looked twice at him, otherwise. Rape. Not in the conventional sense, but when someone said no, you were supposed to take no for an answer. And Harry hadn't.

But Remus had seemed so eager, so willing. Was it all just the wolf? Was there no fragment of the man's soul that had wanted this, before the wolf took control? How could anyone who wasn't the least bit interested have run such hungry hands over Harry's body? How could anyone have found that place deep inside him, and taken special care to pay attention to that one little spot, if they were so out of control? How could anyone have watched Harry lick whipped cream off his spoon like he was a wet-dream come true? And how could anyone, anyone, have had the patience and stamina to take Harry to such unbelievable heights in bed? Harry'd had sex with Remus Lupin. It was the best bloody thing that'd ever happened to him. But he didn't think Remus felt the same way...

In the room next to his, he could hear wolf paws pace the carpet, and his stomach squirmed a little at the idea that his lover was now covered with fur and walking on four feet. A wolf might be a beautiful creature to see in a natural setting, but the thought that he'd just had sex with one made Harry rather ill. He wondered if he could become an Animagus. Yes! That was a great idea! If he became an Animagus, something really good, something that could help control the wolf...maybe that would make up, at least in part, for forcing poor Remus into this arrangement in the first place...

They'd managed to make it back to Grimmauld Place, God only knew how--since Harry wasn't trained to Apparate and a wolf, of course, couldn't. They'd had to walk through Bedfordshire--they had apparently been kept in a cellar in Bedfordshire--until they found a place remote enough to signal the Knight Bus.

The Knight Bus was not keen to let Lupin on in his current form, although they had no idea that the wolf was really a man--or even that it was, at present, a wolf. Harry told them he was a dog. This led to a long and convoluted argument over the Bus's 'No Dogs' policy, which Shacklebolt eventually got round by claiming he required a seeing-eye dog--despite the fact that he was obviously not blind.

In the end, Harry rather thought it was Snape who'd got them on board, because all the waiting and anxiety and having had a werewolf subtly threaten to maul him had not had a good effect on the man's nerves. And when Severus Snape was upset, he typically went looking for a likely victim and a way to make their life hell, and he found the perfect candidate in Stan Shunpike.

After about five minutes of serious discussion, the Potions Master drew himself up to his full, impressive height, and let loose on the spotty boy. "Mister Snubtrout, or Snubcod, or whatever hideous name your forbearers managed to pass on to you, I don't care what your pathetic excuse for a company's rules are. If we are not comfortably halfway to London in ten seconds I am going to hex you within an inch of your life, and then I'm going to bring you back to Hogwarts with me and test out the first years' potions on you until there is no 'you' left on which to test them. In other words, get the hell out of our way, point this monstrosity in the correct direction, and get this tin bucket moving!"

And from there it was only a matter of minutes, and poor Remus's paws scrabbling on the floor of the bus as he tried to keep his balance, before they made it to London and, from there, to Sirius's old house.

Lupin had been led to the room next door, and Harry was put in the same room he'd shared with Ron last year, while Snape stood guard. At around two in the morning, Ron arrived and was put in with Harry who, by virtue of not wanting to explain anything or ask any particular questions but be left alone with his thoughts, continued to pretend to sleep.

At three, he rolled over on his side, ignoring Snape's sharp glance in his direction. He fingered one of the holes on his shirt that should have held a button--accio buttons hadn't gotten them all--and he remember Remus's strong hands ripping it open. God help him, he was getting excited again. Being a teenager, he felt, was even more difficult than being the Boy Who Lived.

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The next morning at breakfast, most of the Order members had already arrived, and were seated at the kitchen table. Everyone looked horrible, but Harry felt no one looked worse than Lupin, although the Potions Master came close and, from what he'd seen in the mirror that morning, he knew he wasn't exactly a raving beauty, either.

The discussion, however stunted, revolved mostly around events of the previous evening. Molly had to ask several times whether Harry was sure he hadn't been hurt, and kept picking at Remus to know what, exactly, had happened from the time they left the bookstore.

"I knew it was a horrible idea to entrust Potter to that incompetent werewolf's clumsy care," Snape grated, a sour look twisting his face.

"Yes, of course, Severus," a tired Lupin responded, and the Potions Master looked tremendously offended to be agreed with so readily.

Harry sat down as far from Lupin as possible, and did his best to avoid the man's eyes. He could feel the weight of Remus's stare on him, and grabbed a piece of toast and busied himself by buttering it, even though he wasn't really all that hungry. The ever-expanding balloon of guilt in his chest was pretty much cutting off any appetite he'd had. Wiggling his feet under the table, he grunted a response to Ron's, "Hey, Harry."

A few moments later, Hermione rushed in and hugged him round the throat, causing the boy to nearly choke on his toast. He tried not to scowl as he pushed her away, but he knew that he was pretty transparent. Did he look like he needed a bit of strangulation on top of everything else? Couldn't she keep her hands to herself for five minutes?

Remus gritted his teeth as the girl threw herself at Harry. Couldn't she keep her hands to herself for five minutes? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his aching muscles protest. Did Harry look like he wanted to be smothered with affection? Hardly. He looks like the next time she tries that, he'll beat her over the head with Hogwarts, A History. That thought was oddly cheering, and Remus tried to ignore it. When Harry finally glanced at Lupin afterward, Lupin tried to smile, but found he couldn't. Shoulders hunching a little, he averted his eyes from the boy. Jealous sulks are not becoming to middle-aged werewolves, he told himself sternly.

"What I don't understand, Harry, is how they ripped all the buttons off your shirt," Tonks commented, and the boy went bright red.

Still coughing a little, he took a sip of water to cover up his embarrassment. "Well, they just. You know, when they threw me in there, um. One of them didn't let go of my shirt right away, and it ripped." He ducked his head and shifted his hashers around on his plate.

"Supposedly, you're one of the wonders of the wizarding world, yet you can't even manage to keep your shirt on?" Snape lifted a lip in disgust.

"Enough, Severus," Remus said. His voice was quiet, but Snape's head still whipped around to stare at him.

"You've been touchingly protective of the boy lately," Snape remarked, his black eyes glittering.

Remus took a small sip of orange juice. "If I am, it's only because you're giving me reason to be," he replied, arching a brow. "If you'll stop your behaviour, than I will, as well. On the other hand, if this escalates..."

Snape did not look intimidated at this point, but glared back at the werewolf. Molly finally interrupted their staring contest with a muted reproof that sounded suspiciously to Harry like, "...overgrown boys..." at least in part.

Hermione, in an effort to turn the conversation, annoyed Harry by asking, "Are you sure you're all right?" yet again.

"Yes, Hermione. I am fine," Harry responded, exasperated. "Nothing happened to me. The only thing I was in any danger of was being bored to death by Lucius Malfoy's upper crust swanning. Well, yes, and the moon, I suppose." He glanced from Tonks to Snape and added bitingly, "Which reminds me; just what the hell took you people so long?" Remus felt his gut twist. Harry could not have made his regret more clear.

"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone of voice, you mentally deficient ingrate--" Snape began to say, but broke off when Lupin, in shifting to become more comfortable, leaned quite close to him.

"You do not want an argument with me today, Severus. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense," Remus hissed, before settling back and resuming his ever-present mild expression. Snape stared.

"Well, you see, Harry," Tonks was saying reasonably, "there were a number of places they might have taken you, and Professor Snape wasn't sure which they'd chosen. So he'd had to scout around quite a bit."

Remus only half-listened as he watched Harry's face. And it was Harry's face, not James's, no matter how many characteristics they had in common. It was very like James's face, to be sure, but there was something indefinably Harry about it. Less masculine and more elfish, he found himself thinking, and the hair is messy, but in an understated way. Everything about the boy is more delicate, more passionate, more real. Remus could not begin to guess if this was merely a result of the times they lived in and the pressure Harry lived under, or if James's memory had simply begun to fade. He's less cocky, but he'll still be very bold, on occasion. His whole aura is sharper, and yet smoother, and prettier...he's more intelligent than James, in ways, and more compassionate, and more aware...

Harry looked up to meet absorbing eyes. He swallowed and quickly turned away. I used him. I used him because I needed someone to love and to touch and to fill this hole and this achy, foreign place inside of me, and he'll never be free again. What are we going to do? I can't bear the thought of being away from him. I want him, right here, right now. I suppose it's the bond. I want to sweep the dishes from the tabletop and crawl across it to him, and land lightly in his lap. I want to feel the skin of his neck between my teeth. I want to stare into those eyes forever. I want to tell him everything. Abruptly, Harry stood, just as the door swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I've some news that must be shared with the Order members before I speak to you. I'll need you, as well as Ron and Hermione, to leave the room."

Ron immediately began voicing protests, but Harry grabbed hold of his arm and began the arduous task of dragging his friend from the room. "Never mind, Ron. I don't care anyway. Let's just get away from here, please?" He tugged at his robe a little, hoping Remus couldn't see his excitement.

Remus carefully kept his face wiped of his torrential feelings of dejection as he watched Harry leave. Dear God. He was practically DYING to get away from my very presence. What have I done? He's stuck with me. Forever. Then Remus thought it over a bit. Well, perhaps not. If he doesn't feel the bond as strongly as I do, there isn't any reason he shouldn't...ignore it. He could move on and have a normal life. It would probably kill me--inside, if not literally--but at least I'd know he was happy. Yes. He would simply tell Harry to renege on the whole mating scenario, and everything would be fine. Yes. Merlin, even CONTEMPLATING giving the boy up hurts so much I'd rather chew off my own right arm...which is a distinct possibility, if Severus can't fix that potion... Shaking himself a little, Remus tried to come back down to earth, where Dumbledore was currently addressing them.

"I cannot say when Hogwarts will be safe for the students to reenter," the Headmaster was telling them, "But we shall be working diligently to make certain all traces of dark spells have been erased."

"Professor Dumbledore, can you tell us why Harry Potter was kidnapped, yet Voldemort made no attempt to harm him or even see him?" Bill Weasley spoke out wonderingly.

"Ah, yes. Knowing that Harry would be at risk in Diagon Alley, I took certain precautions. Voldemort was simply led to believe that he could, in fact, destroy Hogwarts, and then turn his attentions to his prisoner. By the time he realized Hogwarts was not fully under his control, it was too late to deal with Harry. Unfortunately, once he did become aware of our deception, he made time to leave a few nasty traps around the castle. But it hardly matters; Harry is safe, and Hogwarts will soon be restored to its previous harmless state--that is, as harmless as it may be rendered, considering," the wizard gave a large, not unhappy sigh, shaking his gray head a little.

"But what do you mean, Albus?" Remus replied, staring at the man.

"Well, I, myself, would never have considered Hogwarts completely harmless, especially if I were intent on attacking it. Apparently, some of the suits in armor took affront to the trespassers, and...made them aware of their feelings, while the staircases did their best to herd transgressors into certain areas...on the whole, the castle made it's feelings toward Voldemort and his followers very clear."

"And you can't Apparate out..." Kingsley Shacklebolt pointed out with satisfaction.

"Indeed. We actually managed to catch a couple to hand over to the Ministry, although of course the majority had other tricks up their sleeves. Still and all, I believe it will be some time before Tom tries that route again." Dumbledore paused a moment to polish his glasses, a very small smile gracing his features.

"It was a good fight," Tonks said smugly. "And we sure did trounce them."

"Yes...but knowing Voldemort, he'll soon try something else," Arthur Weasley pointed out.

"He plans to," Snape's velveteen voice broke in, managing to immerse the listeners and deride them at the same time. "He generally has several 'cunning strategies' going at once, and now that this one's failed, he's simply turned to another. I don't know the details yet, but we'll have to watch what goes into Potter's mouth, for once, rather than what comes out of it. The Dark Lord made me brew a potion that would track the person who took it--even to the ends of the earth--even on Unplottable ground."

"This is something we must keep a close watch on," Dumbledore noted. "Especially as it would be such an easy thing to slip into one's food or drink..." Remus remembered the dessert he'd made for Harry, and how deliciously the youth had eaten it.

"But that wouldn't be easy, would it?" Tonks countered. "He'd have to know where Harry was before he could even get the potion to him. And he doesn't know, so I don't see..."

Remus tuned out the conversation. He'd been kidnapped yesterday afternoon. He'd slept with Harry Potter the previous evening, although he didn't get any actual sleep. He'd spent the night as an animal, pacing and restless and fidgety. You'd think he'd be tired enough that he wouldn't be getting excited at memories of Harry and his mouth. He fidgeted in his seat a little, and saw Severus giving him cagey looks from the corner of his eye. He forced himself to hold still, trying to concentrate on the discussion around him. This was going to be a very long meeting.

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"Harry! What's wrong with you?" Ron was ranting, waving his arms in the air. "After what happened last year, don't you want them to tell you the truth? Why are you letting them shunt you to the side like your thoughts don't count?"

Harry flinched, looking away. He just couldn't deal with all the plotting and problem-solving right now; he had enough on his plate. And it wasn't like he could concentrate with a dead sexy werewolf sitting across from him and staring with those stunning eyes. Not to mention the bond between them making him want to go straight to the man and beg for it, and giving him a hard on right in the middle of breakfast, making his brain fry out and his tongue go numb... "Ron. I can't do it right now, all right? I had a really exhausting night, and my brain is spinning in circles. The last thing I want is to sit and listen to all that major upheaval type of stuff, not being able to concentrate on any of it. I just...need to do something, all right?"

Hermione gave Ron a chastising look, and Ron shrugged as if to say, 'Well, sorry! How was I to know he's having a nervous breakdown? It's not like it happens all that often, you know!' "Er. Sorry, then, mate," he muttered. "We'll just...find a way to take your mind off it, then. How about a game of chess?"

"Nergh," Harry groaned rubbing his eyes. "No, not chess. I can't think right now. I need something...I need to run around or something. Work some energy off. I'm dying from pent-up energy."

Ron looked puzzled. "You just said you were tired."

"My brain is, yeah. The rest of me's awake." Bits of him were wide awake. Good Lord, he wasn't going to have any privacy, either, in the foreseeable future. He envied Remus. Obviously the man was not suffering any huge amounts of horniness because of the bond. He just sat there looking composed and tired. Damn him to hell or to Snape's classroom, which was infinitely worse.

"Well, they probably won't let you out on your broom..." Ron was musing.

"You know what I think you need, Harry?" Hermione's voice intruded on his thoughts. "You need to take a shower. It'll relax you a bit, and maybe you'll be more awake afterwards."

"Thanks, Hermione! That's a great idea," he told her gratefully. "Yeah, I'll--I'll go do that right now." As he took the stairs two at a time he thought to himself, Merlin, that girl really IS a genius.

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The next few days were miserable for both wizards. There, in Sirius's house, surrounded by memories of the man, his unhappiness with Grimmauld Place, and his death, Harry felt his insides writhing in agony at the thought that he'd seduced his godfather's lover, while Remus, with his guilt over jumping Sirius's godson, could not turn a corner without running into the ghost of his partner and friend.

On the other hand, he never, ever ran into Harry--at least, not alone. Ron or Hermione seemed to accompany him everywhere. Plus, the boy seemed to know just how far away the bond would allow him to be without destroying them both, and he took full advantage of the knowledge. He slept in the room next to Remus's, studied in a room just above where Remus was sitting, waited in the dining room whenever Remus was in the kitchen, and then switched for the kitchen when Remus came into the dining room.

It was a clever solution to the problem. It was subtle, it was not unduly unkind, and it gave them the space Remus supposed the boy thought they both needed. It was also eating Remus up inside. Everywhere he went, the boy was right there, if not in front of him, then right at the forefront of his mind. At night, he could not help but stare at the wall that separated their rooms, imagining Harry reclined in bed, his head dark against the pillow, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Every time he ran into the youth in the hallway or on the stairs, it took a mighty effort not to sweep the boy up in his arms and drop them both to the floor and let his desire spill over and consume them both.

He supposed it was the bond, working its magic. He really wished it wouldn't, because even facing the boy was hard enough without wanting to jump his bones all the time, as well. He knew he'd done a terrible thing, by taking Harry like that. He'd let James down. He'd let Sirius down. And God help him, he'd let himself down, as well. Hadn't he promised himself, from the first time he laid eyes on the boy, that the inexplicable tenderness he felt would never be allowed to become anything else? Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to help it. What was just a slightly-stronger-than-appropriate feeling of affection in the beginning had grown along with the youth. As his muscles toned, as his face lost the slight puppy fat it'd had, as his mind sharpened and he learned to start to make his first clumsy grasps at dignity, Harry Potter had become utterly irresistible. Well, the bond had probably helped.

One morning as Remus left the shower, only partially clothed and wishing he were dead, he started down the hallway and ran smack into Harry, the force of the impact jolting Remus libido up to high speed. Harry fell to the floor, and Remus had to rein the wolf in order to reach down and grab his hand, and not...grab anything else. "All right, Harry?" he asked quietly. The boy allowed himself to be helped to his feet, looking at the man with wide eyes all the while. He licked his lips once, twice, again. Then he turned and ran. Remus stared after him, sadness blossoming inside like a wound staining linen. Nothing could have made it clearer; the boy wanted nothing more to do with him.

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Harry was inconsolable. He managed to make it as far as his bedroom, where luckily Ron wasn't, at the moment, before picking up a pillow and hurling it across the room. He kicked it a few times, as well, and then stomped on it for good measure. Finally he picked it up and shoved his face into the soft cotton, squeezing it tightly as he let it absorb a few wrenching sobs. Why did Remus have to be nice about it? Why didn't he just tell the fucking truth already? How could he stand to be kind to Harry after everything Harry had done to him? He shouldn't have helped him up. He should have...should have kicked him, or something! Should have told Harry what an evil, horrible, filthy little monster he really was instead of...instead of just...letting him get away with it. The door to his room clicked open and Harry spun, wishing crazily for a moment that it would be Remus, so that he could just throw himself at the man's feet and beg forgiveness.

Hermione was staring at him, her face marked with concern. "Oh, fuck," Harry moaned, his voice breaking. In frustration, he threw the pillow again. He went over to the bed and sank down, head in hands. His teeth were clenched, but it didn't seem to stop the pained sounds coming from his throat. He felt the bed next to him sag as his friend sat beside him.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, putting an arm around the boy. "I've seen you and Professor Lupin...you're both acting strangely. Please, tell me what's wrong."

Heart clenching and unclenching as though someone were squeezing their fist around it, Harry gave in and choked out a small part of the story. Hermione, luckily, seemed to realize this was not the time to push. She just listened carefully, nodded, and sympathized. In her mind, she filed everything carefully away for later analysis. Not that she would necessarily do anything with the information...she just liked to have it all on hand.

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That evening, Remus was curled in a chair in the study, nursing a cup of tea and an aching heart, when the door creaked open. He glanced up, hoping against hope Harry might have forgiven him, and decided to at least seek his presence. He tried not to let his face fall as Hermione walked in.

"Hello, Professor," she said quietly, making her way to stand next to his chair.

"Oh...hello, Hermione," he responded as enthusiastically as he was able. "Why aren't you with Ron and Harry?"

"They're playing wizard's chess. Ron's trying to take Harry's mind off things. It would work better, I think, if he suggested doing something Harry would like, instead of always trying to get him to do stuff Ron wants to do. But...it's distracting Harry, at least." She gave him a brave smile.

"Ah. Well...that's good, then." He tried to think of something else to say to her, but for the life of him, could not. It was unnerving, the way those shrewd brown eyes evenly met his own. He looked away, searching his mind hurriedly for some topic of conversation. "So...read any good books, lately?"

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Harry was no longer playing wizard's chess with Ron, by the time Remus went looking for him. Ron was in his own bed, the light from outdoors casting a gentle shadow across his sleeping face, but Harry's bed was empty. Remus padded down the hall, peering into room after room, seeking out the person he was most terrified to face.

Finally, he had an idea--the veranda outside Sirius's parents' old bedroom. Harry was allowed to go there; it was practically the only place he was allowed to go that let him be...somewhat outside. He carefully opened the door to the bedroom, and slid past the massive, foreboding bed. It always made him uncomfortable to see it; it was this great, convoluted thing, all canopy and ropes and dark wood. Had Sirius really been conceived there? It was...inconceivable.

Ah, yes. Here was the little truant. Squatting uncomfortably on the deck, his head tilted back, his eyes reflecting the stars...but perhaps it was only his glasses reflecting the stars; Remus did not want to get carried away with romantic notions. Except...he did, really. The bond was doing very strange things to him. It made him want to pick the boy up and kiss his troubles away and cuddle him and worship him and spoil him rotten.

He quickly made his way out the door and stood before the boy, feeling awkward and frightened. What if Hermione was wrong? It had happened in the past, however intelligent the girl was. What if Harry wanted nothing more than a complete and total deprivation of Remus Lupin? He gulped a couple of times, then cleared his throat.

Harry struggled with the engorging panic in his chest. Fuck. What if Remus didn't want him anymore? Hell, he'd never wanted him in the first place--not really. But what if Remus couldn't forgive him for everything he'd done? How could he ever explain what he'd been thinking; how could he articulate how terribly remorseful he felt?

Remus knelt beside him, and took Harry's hand into one of his own. It was so much larger, and warm, and safe. In Harry's befuddled mind, that hand held everything home could ever mean. Remus's eyes were caring and soft as he said, "Harry? I think. I think you've been avoiding me. I--I understand why you blame me, of course, but I. I'd like the chance to tell you how badly I feel, at the very least. I certainly don't deserve your forgiveness, so I'm not asking for that."

Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times. Remus was sorry? Remus thought Harry blamed him for all of this? An incoherent gurgle escaped from Harry, before his face crumpled and he buried his head in the man's neck. "Remus, I am so sorry," he gasped. "This was all my fault! I pushed you into it and you didn't even like me and you wanted Sirius and not me, never me, and my mum and dad died and they were your friends and I didn't mean to, I really didn't mean to!" Tears were splashing down against Remus's skin from those dark lashes. "And, and--I'm just so sorry and I don't blame you if you hate me forever but please don't hate me forever, I'm begging you, and I swear I didn't mean to get Sirius killed, I swear, I swearIswearI--I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again for that, and I know I should have listened to you when you said no, and I'm really, really sorry, I knew you couldn't help it and I did it anyway and--"

Remus tried valiantly to follow all of this, through Harry's tears and sniffles and the way his voice was muffled by the crook of Remus's neck. He stroked the boy's back, murmuring soothing, unheeded words. After a little while, when the youth had apparently cried himself into placidity, Remus pulled back, still holding him firmly by the arms. "Harry. Is this how you've been feeling? Why didn't you say something? I thought you were angry with me, or that perhaps you wanted space. Harry, listen to me; I've never been upset with you for any of those things."

Remus stared at Harry, endeavoring to decide what to address first. Well. Start at the beginning, right? He took a deep breath. "Harry. In the first place, I have never, would never, and cannot imagine placing any blame upon you for the death of your parents. That doesn't even make sense, Green Eyes. Of all the people in the world, you were the one that suffered the most by their demise. You couldn't have helped it, and you were in no way responsible for it. That was Voldemort's doing, Harry. Not yours. Never yours. If Neville Longbottom, or Draco Malfoy, or Hermione Granger had been born to Lily and James, the exact same thing still would have happened. It had nothing to do with you.

"In the second place...Sirius's death was no more your fault than the deaths of Lily and James. You acted in Sirius's best interests, as far as you knew. What happened was a tragedy, but again, not one that you could have prevented. Not one that you caused. A series of events was set in motion that night that you could not have changed. You didn't know, Harry; you could not have realized that Voldemort had set it up. It was a very clever trap, one that far older and wiser wizards could have fallen for just as easily. And, in your place, I would be hard pressed to say I'd have done differently. Even knowing that it might be a trap, as I surely would have guessed, would not have been enough prevent me from doing all I could to save Sirius. You were not in possession of all of the facts, you see, and had no way of knowing the truth." He carefully left out any suggestion that he might have had just a little more patience in the situation, because that was only because he knew better.

Harry gazed up at him with huge, repentant eyes. "Really?" he whispered.

Remus had to smile a little. "Yes, really. Now, to address the rest of that...it was true that I was with Sirius, on and off, before his death. But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of wanting you. Of caring about you. Harry, you are a marvelous, kind, attractive young man. I feel quite fortunate to have even met you, let alone be allowed to care for you. And I do care for you, and have for some time now. And although...this...bonding is perhaps not the way I would have chosen to go about it, I...cannot imagine anything more fulfilling than being involved with you." He ran a hand over Harry's jaw, and watched as the boy's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned his cheek into Remus's hand.

"But that's the bond talking," Harry protested. "It isn't real."

"Maybe part of it is the bond, Remus admitted. "But even before that, I did find you to be a very pretty boy. You did not force me into the bond; I wanted it. And while it is true that...the moon...gives a sort of...edge to my appetites, it cannot force my heart to feel something it doesn't, and it could not force me to crave the touch of someone I had no feelings of attraction toward. Harry. I understand that this is frightening and difficult for you; you hardly have any understanding of what's going on, and I'm in the same position. We are just going to have to muddle through this the best we can. I'm going to need your help, though. I'm going to need you to be patient and flexible and understanding. This is a very odd situation we've been given, for certain, but I promise you that if we show each other trust, and work hard to communicate with one another, we can make this work. All right?"

Harry nodded, smiling tiredly. "I'm sorry. I thought...I thought you'd be angry with me. I thought you wouldn't want to see me anymore." Remus's hands were running through his hair, now, stroking and caressing softly, and Harry thought he'd never felt anything so good. "It's been hell, though," he confided. "I don't like being away from you. I--guess it's the bond, isn't it?"

Remus nodded. "Probably. I've been feeling the same way. I've craved your company and your touch--more than you could guess. This is one of the difficult aspects of the bond; we don't know precisely how it should manifest, because we have no solid records to work from. All we can do is try to pay attention to how we are feeling, and make each other aware, and try to accommodate one another's needs."

Harry's head popped up. "Really? Er. Like...we could try to sort of be near one another, sort of thing?" he asked hopefully.

Remus smiled in response. "It's all part of the bond, Harry. We have to learn to deal with it in a constructive way. According to the book, it's perfectly natural to be having...desires concerning one another, and likely necessary to indulge them. It's the way we'll learn how the bond affects us. That's not to say, though," he added quickly, "that we have to do anything you don't want to do. If you don't want to do something, then that's fine: it just means the bond just isn't manifesting itself in that manner. But if you do want something, you needn't be afraid to ask for it. You just need to tell me what you want, and what you're ready for."

Harry swallowed several times. What was Remus saying, exactly? That Harry would be allowed to touch him, again? He looked into the man's eyes, and saw the encouragement and expectation written there. "Er. It's just that--it's just that..." he felt his throat close up. How, exactly, could he phrase this? 'It's just that I really, desperately want you to do me again and again and again, every minute of every hour of every day, and love me and need me and never leave my side,'? Harry wriggled a little. "Um...I can't help...I want..."

"You want...?" Remus smiled teasingly at him, before lifting and shifting the youth's weight off of the cold patio and into Remus's lap, more or less. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry's ear. "Don't be afraid to tell me. Don't ever be afraid or uncomfortable to say anything to me. Go ahead. You want..." he prodded.

"I want...to sleep with you again. I want you. It's all I can think about, anymore," he confessed in a raspy voice. "It's driving me crazy. I just can't...all these things...images...floating around inside me head...God. I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on me. I want you on me and in me and all around me."

Remus breathed deeply, feeling the relief spread out and engulf him. He had been so sure the lust was entirely one-sided, and that he was going to suffer terribly while Harry was completely oblivious. "I want you, too," he murmured to the boy. "But I don't want to do anything you don't feel ready for. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to feel that we have to rush into this because of the bond. We have time to do this, Harry. We have all the time in the world."

Harry reflected that for the first time, Remus had just told him a big whopping lie. He had exactly as long as it took until Voldemort forced him into some big showdown, after which he'd probably be dead. But he appreciated what the werewolf was offering, all the same. It didn't really matter, anyhow. He wanted Remus, and he didn't want to wait. "No," he heard himself saying. "Don't be stupid. I don't want to wait. And you didn't hurt me the first time. I--I liked it. I liked it an awful lot."

Remus felt a stirring in his groin at this confession, and wondered about the wisdom of having pulled the youth into his lap. "Yes," he managed. "As did I."

He felt Harry twist round to look at him over the boy's shoulder, and was suddenly confronted by those bewitching eyes. Harry looked very serious as he said, "What should I call you?"

"Er. I don't know," Lupin replied, feeling a little light-headed. All the blood was slowly draining from his brain. "Anything you like, I suppose."

"I'd like to call you Remus, at least sometimes," Harry said quietly, and Remus nodded his consent. "But I can't call you that in public. Can I?"

"Certainly you may. I'm no longer your teacher, and I hardly think anyone would consider it inappropriate. It's fine, Harry."

"Well...I guess so. But I really still think of you as 'Professor.' Almost like that is your first name or something. Isn't that funny? How you can tie a title like that to a person so totally that it's hard to separate the two?" Remus smiled at him affectionately. What a quaint way of thinking Harry had. "Would it be all right if I still called you Professor? I mean; would that bother you?"

"Not at all," Remus immediately replied agreeably.

"Good," Harry told happily. He shyly shifted a bit more and trailed a hand down Remus's cheek. "Professor," the boy breathed, and Remus's breath caught in his throat. The blood was leaving his brain very quickly now, rushing southward at a frightening speed. It was shocking how, with that one little word, Harry had unfolded an entire armada of previously unconsidered fantasies in Remus's head. He shuddered a little, and gently tried to push the boy just a tad further away. "Remus...can we do that again? I want you. I want to touch you. I just...I guess it's the bond, but I...I really feel this...intense need to have you with me."

Remus nearly fainted. Such attractive things should not be said by such an attractive boy. It was downright dangerous. "I--I'd like that very much," he said, and he heard how it came out as a moan. Harry was pressed back firmly against him, and he knew there was no way the boy didn't know that Remus did, indeed, like the thought of it very much. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

The boy gave him an impertinent smirk before wriggling in his seat again, smiling more widely at Remus's gasp. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Take me to bed, would you, Professor?"