Side Effects May Include...

Side Effects May Include...

"The two of you look like idiots in those costumes," Snape grumbled, reluctantly ladling some Wolfsbane into a glass vial and sticking a stopper in it.

"This coming from a bloke wearing a black dress?" Harry shot back. He grinned back at Remus, who squeezed his hand gently before reaching out to take the vial from the Potions Master.

"Thank you, Severus," was the werewolf's only response, as he neatly tucked the potion away in a breast pocket. He flicked another small smile at Harry, and the younger wizard fought not to swoon. Remus hardly considered himself handsome, no matter what he wore, but Harry obviously felt differently.

"Anyway, I think we look...spiffy," Harry eventually countered, earning himself a snort from Snape. He knew his hair still stuck up a bit, but he still thought they looked pretty good in their matching tuxedos--like two grooms on the top of a wedding cake. A big, silly grin spread across his face at the thought.

"I don't know what you're supposed to be, anyhow," Snape was muttering, filling out a form for the Institute. "Here; sign this," he added, handing the parchment to Remus. "I've upped the dosage of the caustic lime by nearly double," he muttered. "I'm unsure of the exact effect it will have, so pay close attention during the change tomorrow." He glanced at Harry's crooked tie and arched a brow.

"We're going to the Muggle opera tonight," Harry informed the man. "This is how Muggles dress at red carpet events." Snape rolled his eyes, and Harry smiled sweetly. Nothing annoyed the Potions Master more than seeing others enjoying themselves. "It's Remus's birthday," Harry continued. "And he loves David Daniels, so I got us front row seats at the Royal Opera House." He slipped an arm around his partner. "And afterwards, I'm going to take him home and f--"

"I think that's enough, Harry," Remus interrupted smoothly, giving the boy an arch glance. They had been together several years now, and he was good at reading Harry. For instance, when those green eyes grew particularly round and innocent, it generally meant that Harry was about to say something especially lewd, and Remus had learned to head it off--at least in public. "Anything else, Severus?"

Snape had already forgotten them, turning back to his row of bubbling cauldrons, and snapping impatiently at one of his assistants. "What?" he glanced back over his shoulder at the two. "No. Just--What is that, Mister Piddleston? Is that Pumpkin Juice? Don't you dare bring Pumpkin Juice into this laboratory ever again! The staff room is for food and drink; the Research Lab is for work. If you forget once more, I promise you'll be out of both. Where was I? Lupin, yes. The formula change. This may cause changes in your behaviour or body. If there's anything drastic, contact me immediately." At a rumble and flash across the room, the man's head whipped around. "And that is why we do not bring Pumpkin Juice into the laboratory, you thrice-damned buffoon! No, I'm not going to change him back--maybe he'll learn to follow directions after being left as a goat for a couple of days!"

Remus shook his head as he followed Harry from the room, Snape's expletives still echoing after them. Some things never changed. He sighed a little as he patted his vest. Perhaps some things never would.

________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, the werewolf awoke to a note on the bedside table. Blinking tiredly, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the paper. No good--he was just getting too old for--well, everything. He needed his glasses. A search of the house eventually led to the revelation that they'd been next to the note in the first place. Sighing ruefully, Remus slipped them on his nose. He should have known--Harry really was too good to him.

Superwolf,

Shacklebolt owled and asked me for assistance with a former Death Eater who's supposedly cornered in Brighton. I'm sure everything will be fine, but they want me to be there and see if my scar hurts when I approach him. Something about him claiming to have inherited Voldemort's powers. It's all bollocks--I promise. Anyway, could you get in touch with Rita and cancel my afternoon book signing? I'll see you...well, it depends, doesn't it? I'll be gone for at least a day or so. I guess I'll see you...Wednesday? No, scratch that--I have classes all day Wednesday. As soon as I can, anyway.

Thanks and love you!

Harry

P.S. The rest of the chocolate cake is in the refrigerator--but don't you eat it all! I know how you are about your chocolate cakes and candies, but you'd better leave some for me this time, or I promise you won't be able to sit down for a week after I get through with you!

P.P.S. I have not forgotten the Valentine's incident.

Remus laughed, remembering how he'd caved and eaten the box of chocolates he'd bought for Harry's present last year, and Harry's ill-suppressed amusement in response. Then he thought of the last Death Eater that had been captured, and he shifted uncomfortably before going downstairs to make breakfast and owl the reporter.

It likely was nothing--Harry had killed Voldemort almost two years ago, and there were still supposed sightings and rumors and whatnot nearly every day--but he worried every time something like this came up, all the same. And at this time of the month, as well! He hoped Harry would be back before long, but he wouldn't count on it.

Shrugging, Remus got some sausages out and dropped them into the frying pan. As the smell of sizzling pork wafted through the air, he tried to forget about Harry and his complicated problems. He shouldn't be eating with a new batch of potion to take, but after the workout Harry'd given him the night before he was ravenous--though possibly not as ravenous as he'd been with Harry. He went over to the cupboard and pulled out the vial of Wolfsbane, uncorking it and quickly tossing it back. Ugh. This tastes like Snape threw every nasty ingredient he could think of in it. He wouldn't put it past the man, but knew the Potions Master was quite keen on finding a cure for lycanthropy and getting his name in the history books, so the fact that every new experiment with the Wolfsbane potion tasted worse than the last one was probably just a fluke. It tastes like bat vomit, Remus's inner voice pointed out, and he ran to the refrigerator to find something to wash the taste away.

On the front shelf was the rest of the champagne from the previous evening. Remus didn't even deliberate for a moment before taking the Stasis Spell off the bottle and chugging a few mouthfuls. Smacking his lips in appreciation, Remus closed his eyes and let the memory of the night before wash over him.

Harry pulled his tie loose and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Now, close your eyes and let me put the blindfold on." Remus smiled as the silk slipped up and covered his eyes. "Now walk forward...let's get this jacket off..." Remus laughed as Harry tugged the clothing down, uncovering his shoulders. It didn't matter that the boy was almost nineteen, and strapping and masculine in every way. He retained a sense of innocence and impatience--particularly in bed--that Remus found endearing and rather electrifying, as well.

"There; we're almost there. Step up--higher! Now, lower your foot..."

Remus did, and felt the bubbles running up his leg. "It tickles," he said after a moment. Harry slid the tip of his finger down the man's bare chest, pausing to flick back and forth across a nipple. The man's breath hitched, and he heard Harry laugh softly.

"But it feels good, too...right?" Before Remus could answer, Harry tugged him forward, and he stepped into the bath.

Pressure on Remus's shoulders suggested he sit, and he did, hearing the splash as Harry knelt between his legs. Warm lips brushed his own, and the werewolf opened his mouth for his lover's gently probing tongue. A finger came up and gently tugged on Remus's lower lip, and the tongue slid out, only to be replaced by the tip of Harry's finger.

"Is that champagne?" Remus queried after lapping at the digit. At Harry's throaty chuckle, the werewolf tilted his head. "Harry! Did you--did you fill the bathtub up with champagne? That's expensive! That must've cost--munhh-um-mmh!" He continued around the now two fingers that had been lovingly pressed into his mouth, and were now engaged in trying to still his tongue.

"Oh, just stop it," Harry advised. "Yeah, it was expensive. I don't care. I have plenty of money. And I have you to spend it on. What more could I do with it to make me happy?" Feathering kisses across the man's jaw, Harry worked his way to an ear, whispering, "You're worth it, Superwolf."

Shaking his head, Remus replaced the bottle. He felt a little guilty about washing his potion down with his birthday present, but what the hell. After all, living with the Boy Who Conquered Voldemort and Lived to Sell the Story certainly had its perks. Going back to flip the sausages, Remus discovered he was smiling a little. Well, why shouldn't he smile? Voldemort was dead, Harry was his, the Institute was hot on the trail of a cure for lycanthropy, and he'd had the best birthday of his life. On the whole, he had quite a bit to smile about.

That evening, Harry still hadn't sent any word, and Remus left reluctantly for the Institute. Harry would know where to find him, after all...even though, as he'd shortly be a wolf, there was little Remus could do to help in any case. Just the same, he wished Harry could find a way of letting him know what was going on.

As soon as he arrived at the Institute, Snape ushered him over to the magically reinforced kennel where he was to spend the night. The man seemed rather tired and drawn, but Remus didn't comment on it. He knew Snape worked especially long hours as head of Research, now that he no longer needed to teach 'dunderheads' or spy on the Dark Lord. Making any sort of remark on this subject, Remus found, invariably brought down tirades and accusations.

"Now, I'm going to pull up a chair, but I'll likely leave for a while after you've changed. We have monitoring spells on the cage, so I'll miss little," Snape informed the man. "Did you recall to neither eat nor drink anything for the past ten hours?"

Remus looked away guiltily, aware that the sausages and champagne had just been consumed barely eight hours ago. He knew that technically he shouldn't eat or drink anything after taking the Wolfsbane, because whenever Snape changed the formula they couldn't know how it would react to other substances. On the other hand, it just tasted so awful. Besides, it had been a whole eight hours, and he'd only had a swig of champagne and a couple of measly sausages.

Remus muttered something incoherent, bending to untie a shoe. In an embarrassed corner of his mind, he realized his justifications were very...Sirius-like in nature. After folding his clothes and setting them on a chair, Remus prepared to step into 'The Torture Chamber,' as he affectionately dubbed it. Suddenly, he paused.

"I'm cold," he advised Snape.

"You're nude," Snape responded. "What the bloody hell did you expect?"

Remus shrugged without apparent shame. After being prodded and scrutinized by every Mediwitch and Mediwizard within a few hundred miles, one generally lost the ability to flush with modesty over one's nakedness. "No, Snape," he corrected patiently. "I'm quite cold. And it happened rather suddenly. I just thought..."

"I'll make a note of it," Severus assured him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He ignored Remus's violent shudder, except for the small fact that he did mutter, "You can take that moth-eaten cardigan in with you, if you like."

Remus looked at him rather pitifully. His arms had come up to wrap around his body, and his knees knocked a little. "Can't I have a blanket or something?"

"No," Snape replied with rancor. "You ate the last one we gave you. I'm not spending valuable research money on coddling you! Now get in the damn cage."

Remus went, shivering and shooting resentful looks out of the corner of his eye at the Potions Master. The metal floor was even colder than he remembered, and he had to clench his teeth together tightly to keep them from chattering. "This is not on, Severus. Harry has plenty of money. He'll pay you for a stupid blanket. Go find me one. Now." He was careful to let a bit of growl come out on the last word, and took some small satisfaction when Severus left the room with alacrity.

When the man returned, he'd recovered his composure as well as his signature sneer. "I see you've become accustomed to relying on Potter's money to get what you want," Snape jibed.

Remus pulled the blanket around his shoulders and settled himself on the floor. It wouldn't have done to let Snape realize he'd scored a hit, so he responded in a calm voice. "I can't help it that he spoils me terribly. We bathed in champagne last night, you know." He felt slightly better at the face the Potions Master made at the idea. As he twisted the blanket round him, trying to get comfortable, Remus took yet another moment to count his blessings. Voldemort is dead, Harry is mine, the Institute is hot on the trail of a cure for lycanthropy, I had the best birthday of my life...and I just made Severus Snape cringe. Could be worse. The only way it could have been better was if he knew Harry was safe... A knot of worry forming in his stomach, Remus tried very hard to think about other things as he waited on the change.

The next morning, Remus awoke feeling distinctly...odd. His body ached in the usual places, but there was an unusual current of...agitation running through his blood. Looking about for Snape or one of his assistants, the werewolf gingerly got to his feet.

"Remus." Snape's clipped voice acknowledged him, and the man stepped around the counter, brandishing his wand to unlock The Torture Chamber.

"Wow...I'm really hot," Remus remarked, starting to dress himself. "I'm sweating. Why is that?"

"Perhaps dressing like an old woman is beginning to affect you," Snape said, eyeing the cardigan with distaste. "How can you be surprised to get hot flashes when you wear something like that?"

Remus made a sour face, setting the cardigan aside. Even as he did so, his body cooled to a more reasonable temperature, and he sighed with relief. "It's probably just stress," he said. "Whenever Harry's away, my body has the most unfortunately physical reactions."

"I do not want to hear about your body's reactions to Potter," Snape spat, then gazed at him shrewdly. "Did you do anything differently yesterday? Anything at all? I only ask because you howled all bloody night LONG! Do you have any idea how thoroughly irritating it is, trying to get delicate research done when someone is baying like a damnable bitch in heat? Hmm? Think back to yesterday, and try to recollect your actions. I know it's a tedious process, using your brain, but I assure you that the results from the effort are often helpful."

Remus stared at him, remembering the champagne, as well as the sausages. He opened his mouth to admit his mistake, when a strange...swell of something--something like warmth--washed over him. It tingled across his skin, flooded his veins with heat, and pooled low in his stomach. The next thing the werewolf knew, he had Severus trapped against the counter, and was trying to devour the man, starting with his tongue.

Jerking away, Remus looked at the Potions Master in horror. "Oh God," he breathed. He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "Oh God!"

Snape spat copiously on the tiled floor.

"I shouldn't have eaten those sausages." Remus stumbled back, looked around for a waste receptacle, and staggered over to it, making it just in time to begin retching.

Snape's voice wafted over him, aggravated as always. "That wasn't my idea of an enjoyable time either, you know."

Remus had emptied himself of the sausages, champagne and potion as much as he was able, and dropped to his knees next to the mess, panting. "Oh...Merlin. Severus, I'm sorry. I ate sausage." His head was spinning, and he was starting to feel cold again. "What's happening to me?"

"They are called side effects, you imbecile, and they frequently happen when one doesn't take his or her potion as directed. The...sausages...must have interacted with something in the Wolfsbane. Bloody idiot Gryffindor. Now I'm going to have to dig through the books to see if there are any reported cases of sausages reacting to any of the ingredients in the potion. Do you have any notion how stupid that sounds? Perhaps I'll put Granger on it. Fuck. That means I'll have to deal with Granger. Must you always be such a bother, Lupin?"

Still grumbling under his breath, Snape strode away to contact Hermione, and Lupin crawled over to a chair and pulled himself into it. Dropping his face into his hands, he reflected that Harry was probably better off away just now. And how was he going to tell the boy that he'd just gone and sexually assaulted Snape?

Snape brought in a couple of assistants and proceeded to take a blood sample from Remus. The werewolf did very well until the blood was bottled and sealed, at which point the strange warm dizziness overtook him once more, and he only came back to himself when Severus--with a mighty effort--shoved him away.

Looking disheveled and disgusted, the Potions Master informed him, "I was taking the blood to do test work, but the next time you try to insinuate your thigh between my legs I assure you that the bloodletting will be for my own personal pleasure."

"Shit," Remus replied, appearing distraught. Snape's assistants were laughing behind their hands, and even the man's most ferocious glare failed to silence them.

"Now that I have the sample," Severus grated, making an effort to ignore the two young imbeciles who would shortly find themselves in the unemployment line, "I'm going to delve into the books and see what may be discovered. You can either stay in the cage--where you obviously belong--or barricade yourself in that gaudy travesty you and Potter call a home, proceed to quarantine yourself within, and await my further instructions."

Remus nodded unhappily. "I'll wait at home," he agreed. He really didn't want to have to look Severus in the eye any more than absolutely necessary, and felt he shouldn't be alone with the man at any point in the foreseeable future.

"That's doubtlessly for the best," Snape told him. "Especially seeing that I vehemently wish you dead at the moment, and any further incidents would almost certainly lead to an attempt on my part to fulfill that particular desire. Then I'd have to find a place to dispose of the body, and spend a tiresome amount of time searching for another test subject."

"Gosh, I knew that deep down, you really cared about me," Remus retorted sourly.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

Hermione hurried into the room, curls bouncing lightly. "Remus! Are you all right? Snape told me something went wrong with the potion." Remus sighed, wishing the situation could be kept more private, but also feeling devoutly grateful that the clever girl--well, woman--would put her mind to the task. "I've tried to contact Harry and Ron, but it may be some time before they get word. It's all very hush-hush, and sometimes the owls get blocked." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and squeezed Remus's shoulder. "Dear Remus," she said, looking worried. "Can you tell me what happened?"

That was when Remus attempted to snog Hermione.

Snape had to haul him off the girl bodily, as any spell cast on the man could make the condition worse. The Potions Master did, however, use this opportunity to yank Lupin round to face him and slap him roughly with his forehand.

Remus flinched at the treatment, but then sighed, his shoulders slumping. "That pretty much sums it up," he told Hermione wearily.

"Remus," she responded slowly, one hand clutching her shirt closed where he'd tried--in his altered state--to tear it open. "You are a wonderful man, and very attractive, and I can't say I haven't had my thoughts about you--schoolgirl crushes and all--but I am a married woman, and I don't think Ron would approve, however progressive he may seem. Plus, it would hurt Harry's feelings terribly if he knew you'd kissed me like that."

"I know," Remus told her heavily. "I apologize, by the way, but it doesn't seem to be something I can control at the moment. I've already gotten Snape twice."

"And won't be doing so again," Snape growled, brandishing a rolled up research report. "I warn you, Lupin; I am armed."

Hermione, who'd clearly not been told of the werewolf's advances regarding the Potion's Master, coughed loudly to cover her amusement. "Well, I can see we've got our work cut out for us, then," she announced. "Why don't you find somewhere that you won't be...tempted, and we'll come and get you if we get any ideas?" she suggested brightly.

"That was the plan," Remus acquiesced. "I'm going to go home, draw all the shades, and pretend I was never born."

"Would that I could pretend the same," Snape replied, warily crossing to the opposite side of the counter. "I want you Flooing in an hourly update, keeping us advised of your status. I'm going to post a few of my assistants around the house in case you forget yourself and try to leave."

"All right," the werewolf told him, his eyes glassy.

Snape hastily hurried to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of powder from atop the mantle, hollered "Potter's house!" into the flames, and maneuvered the man towards them. "I don't like the look in your eye," he advised Remus. "So I'd appreciate it if you went and had your next break from reality elsewhere, lest I do something truly terrible to you with that report."

"All right," Remus said again listlessly, and pitched forward into the flames as the sensation of arousal and vertigo washed over him once more.

The first thing Remus realized when he came to--really came to, which was a bit like waking up--was that he was cold again. A cup of hot tea would be ever so nice. Was he allowed to eat or drink anything? He couldn't remember if Snape had brought the subject up. He got another handful of Floo powder and stuck his head through, into the laboratory. "Severus? Could I--?" Flinching, he wrenched his head away from the paper that had smacked him across the nose.

"This isn't working," he heard Snape lamenting. "Get me something larger and heavier to beat him about the head with. I'll not have him defiling my person again!" Hermione was fussing somewhere in the background, recommending the Potions Master be less harsh.

"Stop it!" Remus ordered when the paper flashed towards him again. "I'm not here for your body! I don't want your body. I just want to know if I can eat something yet, or at least make some tea."

"No," Severus rejoined, looking horrified. "That's what caused this catastrophe in the first place! Who knows what further damage additional consumption could wreak, as long as the Wolfsbane is still in your system? Stop being an utter twit and go away! Water--you may have water, if you must."

With a discontented 'humph,' Remus pulled his head back from the Institute. He was cold, dash it! He couldn't just drink hot water. Feeling edgy, he went upstairs to get some quilts and paper, and went back to nestle himself into the chair beside the fireplace. This way he could still do his reports to Severus, and get comfortable while he waited for developments.

Only he couldn't get comfortable. He was too cold. He wrapped himself in every blanket in the house, and it didn't seem like enough. Then the involuntary feelings of lust poured through him once more, making his chest feel like thunder and his groin feel tight, and the next time he realized where he was, he'd made a wet mess of the blankets. Bugger! he thought unhappily, using his wand to clean it up.

He was having, on the whole, a rather trying day.

Curling up into a tight ball, Remus thought about Harry. His lover was not going to be pleased with him. Not that he'd exhibited any especially jealous tendencies around the werewolf, but few people were pleased when their pseudo-spouse went round the countryside trying to rape everyone they met. Whimpering, Remus wished he had a tail that he could hide his nose under. Eventually, he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

When Remus awoke, he was disoriented. And hot. And where the hell was he again? He stretched extensively, yawning and feeling oddly content. His head felt fuzzy and feverish, but in a rather nice, giddy way. Blinking a bit, he pieced together the events of the morning. The recollection was a bit upsetting, but didn't really make a dent in his bizarre euphoria.

Standing, he felt the blankets slither down his body to pool at his feet. Well, no wonder he was hot. He kicked them away. Remus made his way to a window and opened it, but the slight breeze didn't seem to cool him in the least. And he was really hot. He was quickly becoming uncomfortably overheated, and his skin felt stretched and tight. Shifting his shoulders, Remus realized that the underarms of his shirt were damp. Yuck. A trickle of sweat slid down between his shoulder blades, and he made a decision.

He was not going to be roasted alive just because he'd had a bite of sausage. He refused to sit around being miserable because of the stupid potion. After all, it was his house--his and Harry's--and who cared if he ran about starkers for a while? No one was going to know. It wasn't as if he were about to answer the door if someone knocked.

Pulling the shirt off over his head, he tossed it into the pile of quilts that were now bunched up in the corner of the room, and began undoing his trousers. Pausing, he remembered that Snape or Hermione might drop in if there were a breakthrough. The werewolf shrugged. He'd be damned if he were going to suffer this sweltering heat just to shield their delicate sensibilities.

Stripping completely, Remus flopped on the couch, picked up some papers and began fanning himself vigorously. There. That was a little better. A man had to know when to do something to make his situation more tolerable, that was all.

Harry fumbled with his keys as he reached the front door, all the while grousing a litany of complaints at Ron. The redhead was obviously trying to seem supportive, but occasionally his eyebrows would slide into a put-upon expression, and his posture seemed more hassled than helpful.

"...and on top of all that, I worry that Remus is getting bored with me," Harry was saying petulantly. "I mean; yeah, he's older and all, and believe me--I'm taking that into account. But we've only been together--what, four years on and off? And he's just not as...you know, interested as he used to be. The sex is great--when we have it--but just as often he'd rather be reading or playing chess or something. I swear he fell asleep once during foreplay. I don't know what to do. He used to jump me the minute I walked in the door! Or within the next several, anyway. Now sometimes he actually sighs when I bring the subject up."

"No offense, mate, but these are things that I really do not want to hear about," Ron told him, looking pained. "You could have just as easily said, I don't know--'Remus seems a bit unresponsive lately,' and I'd have gotten the picture just as well. Can't you use euphemisms or something?" He broke off as Harry managed to get the door open. "Why is that girl standing on the street corner? She hasn't moved since we got here, and she's looking at us."

"Let her look, then," Harry muttered mutinously. "That's what Remus said when I graduated. Didn't have a problem getting his attention then. Used to have to fight to keep his hands off me, even in public."

Remus heard voices floating through the open window. The first was Harry's, and it was such a relief that he could have danced. Then, unfortunately, he realized that his lover was not alone, and was inviting his friend into the house. Where Remus was sprawled on the front couch. And very naked.

The man shot across the room and grabbed up a white blanket, twirling it around him quickly. When he was as covered as he thought he could be, the voices drew near, and he threw himself into the chair. Arranging his face in a welcoming smile, he watched Harry enter.

"Hello, stranger," he said to the youth. "I was getting worried about you." His brow wrinkled as he took in Harry's appearance. "What happened?"

"What didn't?" Harry responded bitterly, trying to wipe the green slime off his glasses. "I bombed the Advanced Potions in Medicine test. Bombed--as in, I accidentally dropped a fusion pellet in my Amalgamation Draught before adding the dragon's toenails, and it blew up in my face. Nice, huh?" He waved a hand, gesturing to the muck that stippled his body. "Then, I finally managed to nail the Animagus spell. Finally. And what do I turn into? Hmm? A cat, Remus. A black cat. A stupid black cat, with stupid green eyes. How does that help you during your transformations, I ask? It's worthless! And--and cliché!" Stomping, Harry left the room. "I'm gonna get some clean robes," he said. "Be back in a few."

Remus sighed as Harry went upstairs. He hadn't had a good day himself, but he was more hesitant than ever to bring the subject up, considering the mood Harry was in. How was he supposed to explain what happened with the potion? More importantly, would Harry ever forgive him?

"Er. Hi, Remus," Ron said. "Why are you all wrapped up like a mummy?"

Remus flushed, feeling the sizzling across his skin again. "I was cold," he replied defensively. He carefully got to his feet in order to make his way to the rest of the blankets, hoping that several layers might make him feel less exposed.

"Ah," Ron replied. "Sorry to hear that. Maybe you're coming down with a cold. Could I make you some tea or something?"

Remus smiled at this small courtesy. Then he tried to jump Ron.

"What the hell? You made a pass at my best friend?" Harry was yelling. "Merlin, Remus! What the hell?" Ron was standing nearby, holding his wand out defensively and looking shaken.

Remus sat up and gripped his head with both hands, feeling like it was about to burst. "Oh...bugger. My head." He winced up at Harry, trying to pin down the dark-haired blur that seemed to swim across his vision. "What happened?"

"What happened? What happened? Why don't you tell me, Casanova?" He couldn't see Harry's expression, but the voice was unmistakably angry.

Another voice broke in, this one much deeper, but just as annoyed. "What is the meaning of this? I told you to isolate yourself, you mule-headed moron! I didn't receive your report, so Granger insisted I make certain you hadn't perished of apparent randiness. It looks as though she'd have done better to worry about whatever hapless victims happened to stumble across you in this state. You had another little spell, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about? What spell?" Harry demanded crossly.

Remus moaned piteously, and Snape swooped through the Floo and knelt beside him, jerking his head back by the hair and having a good look at the werewolf's pupils. "Well, those seem to be back to normal, at any rate," he said with some surprise. "They were as dilated as if you'd taken Belladonna earlier. What happened?"

"That's what I just asked you!" Harry roared. "I'm the one that funds you, damn it; tell me what's going on!"

Snape stood and looked down his nose at Harry. "Your idiot werewolf had a mishap with his potion. Apparently he disregarded my orders not to eat or drink anything with it, and has had something of a problem with his self-control--not to mention his libido--ever since."

"I--What? You mean...he couldn't help it?" Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Remus?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus told him from behind his hands. "I don't know what's happening to me. I just get dizzy, and hot all over, and then I don't know what I'm doing, but when I come back to myself I've generally discovered it was something of a sexual nature. I'm really sorry, Harry."

Harry got down on the floor beside Remus and put his arms around the man. "Oh..."

Ron looked defensively at Snape. "He--he went after me. I didn't know! I was just...I'm an Auror, you know, and I just--reacted."

Snape arched a brow at his former student and looked amused. "What spell was cast on the wolf?"

"Just a rather powerful 'get away' sort of thing," Ron mumbled, still looking rather nauseous. "Well, I had to, didn't I?"

"Indeed. Well, whatever you cast may well have purged the last vestiges of the potion from Lupin's blood--although, from our research, it seems that it should have been fading shortly in any case."

"That's the best thing that's happened to me today," Remus said in a heartfelt voice. His stomach grumbled loudly. "Does that mean I can eat, now?"

"Yes, yes," Snape replied dismissively. "Although I caution you to stay well away from others for the next twenty-four hours, just to preclude another attack. Incidentally, you owe me a pound of flesh for the hell you put me through today. I expect you to follow my directives to. The. Letter. In the future. Is that understood?" Remus nodded thankfully, and Snape turned to Ron. "Your wife seems to have purloined my laboratory in her irritatingly unending quest for knowledge. I suggest you accompany me there and remove her before I'm compelled to demonstrate my mastery of the Unforgivables on her."

Ron looked distracted. "Yeah. All right. You going to be okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded, seeming a bit abashed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Say hello to Hermione for me, and thanks, too." He gave Ron a smile, and the Auror followed the Potions Master into the flames. "So," the bespectacled man turned back to Remus. "Looks like we both had pretty dreadful days."

"Yes," Remus nodded. "I really am sor--"

"I know. I believe you. So am I. I should have trusted you. Are you angry with me?"

Remus looked surprised. "Not at all. Um. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Ron earlier. Did you really think I was getting bored with you?"

Harry flushed. "Sometimes you don't seem like you want--er, you know. Not the way you used to." He gave a crooked smile and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I can't believe you took a potion that made you horny enough to throw yourself at whoever was available, and I missed out on the whole thing."

Remus laughed. Leaning over, he took Harry's face in his hands and kissed him thoroughly. "I think I have at least one go left in me tonight. And in the future, I promise to pay you more attention, if you'll promise to let me know when you need it. Deal?"

Harry smiled lazily, rubbing his face against the werewolf's neck, reveling in the scent and feel of his skin. "Sounds like a deal, Superwolf." He sat back and made a point of looking the man up and down, from his bronzed shoulders to the quilt tangled around his feet. "Upstairs?"

Remus grinned hungrily. "Sure thing." Then his stomach complained hungrily, and he paused. "As soon as I've had something to eat."

"Nah," Harry contended. "We'll just grab the cake and take it upstairs with us. I know how you love your chocolate--candy or cake."

Remus got to his feet, pulling Harry up as well. "Not as much as I love you, Green Eyes."

They found that the werewolf did, indeed, have several good goes left in him. And whatever Remus disliked about the Wolfsbane potion, he decided that this batch went rather well with chocolate cake.

The next day, one of the less well-versed lower-level researchers brought Severus Snape a package wrapped in white paper and tied with an annoying red ribbon. Feeling as though he were being wound up, the Potions Master ground his teeth as he stalked into the staff room to rid himself of the parcel. The note attached said, Payment in full, with thanks for everything. As he swept back into his lab to return to a comforting routine of terrorizing all who came within his presence, he couldn't help snorting a bit. Idiot Gryffindors and their blasted literal-mindedness, he thought. They probably thought themselves amusing, sending him one pound of New York Strip Steak, flown in specially, with a preserving charm keeping it fresh.