Research and Development Part I; Hunger
Research and Development Part II; Research
TITLE: Research and Development Part II; Research
AUTHOR: StarryGazer
EMAIL: foppagal@yahoo.com
PAIRING: Harry/Remus
RATING: R
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feree ree to send to the above
address
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.
SUMMARY: Harry wants Remus. Remus wants Harry. It should be
simple, right?
CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)
BETA: ShadowPhoenix
NOTES: Thanks to—music please—the phenomenal !ShadowPhoenix! for
being my beta and idol. I could not be happier with the help she gave me on
this one, unless it came with a serving of Jason Isaacs au natural. I
mean; you couldn’t beat that with a stick—or perhaps you could, I don’t know,
maybe your tastes run that way. Who am I to judge? Where was I? Ohs. Ss. So,
ShadowPhoenix deserves much kowtowing for her most excellent editing.
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&n
Harry groaned when he heard his uncle call his name the
second time. He had to get up. Uncle Vernon was using his
‘I’m-completely-pissed-at-you-but-we-have-company-that-can-kick-my-chubby-ass-so-I-won’t-quite-show-it’
voice. Harry wondered briefly who was there, before slipping his glasses on and
yanking a pair of pajamas bottom up. He still had on a white T-shirt from last
night, and wasn’t even going to bother with his hair. He stumbled downstairs,
still drowsy, his face crumpled with sleep.
He quickly became wide awake when he saw Remus standing
in the front hall. Shit. Of all the people to walk in when he looked a mess,
and of all the members of the Order to be sent now, of all times—after
Harry’d wanked off last night but before he could grab a shower—it had to be him.
After he’d wanked off fantasizing about Remus, no less. Shit.
“Er. Shit.” He hadn’t exactly meant to say it out loud,
but really couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Luckily, Remus just smiled a little. “I’m sorry to take
you by surprise, Harry, but I just received an owl from Albus this morning.
Evidently, he’s most anxious for you to get going on those Apparating lessons,
so he sent me to get started right away.” The youth was beautiful, and Remus
was both appalled and devoutly grateful he’d been given a glimpse of the boy
outside of his robes.
“Erm. Oh.” Brilliant contribution to the conversation,
Potter, Harry chided himself. What are you going to do for an encore?
Shuffle your feet and hope he thinks it’s a tap dance? “Um. Are we training
here, then?”
“No, we’ll
actually be heading over to Diagon Alley. Um. I can give you a few minutes to
change, though.”
“Ah…actually, would you mind if I took a quick shower?”
Harry bit his lip; reopening a gash he’d given himself last night.
&n
“That just fine, I
think we…goodness, Harry, what did you do to your lip?” Remus came closer, and
Harry started backing up the stairs.
“Oh, that. It’s nothing—I—bit it. Is all.” He was
scrambling now, lucky not to land on his butt on the landing, but Remus
followed him all the way into his bedroom.
“You bit it? That badly? Here, let me have a look.”
Insistently, the werewolf took the boy’s face in his hands and leaned down in
the dim light. Suddenly, they both froze. The smell of Harry’s release was
thick to Remus’s sensitive nose, and he realized why the boy wanted a shower so
badly. Also, though, there was the smell of blood. Which did nothing for him,
but—to have bitten himself so hard?
Harry trembled under his former professor’s strong hands.
Lupin’s lips were mere inches away, and Harry could feel his soft breath on his
face. He had to fight a wild urge to say, ‘Please kiss it and make it better.’
His eyes fell shut when Lupin came closer.
Remus licked his lips, looking at the thin trail of blood
running down Harry’s chin. What—now I’m getting Vampiric urges to go along
with my wonderful werewolf drives? Good God, though—why the hell does that seem
so erotic? He beat down his desire to lean forward and gently capture those
poor, ravaged lips with his own, instead running an unsteady thumb along the
lower lip. He felt that tender flesh shiver at his touch, and Harry softly
pursed his lips, turning Remus’s action into a kiss pressed against the digit.
Harry paused and looked up at him, with those great, sad, fearful eyes.
The boy jerked back. “Sorry,” Harry whispered, shaking
his head, his lips pulled in, in shame. He glanced down at the thumb, and his
eyes widened. “What happened to your hand?”
Remus flinched,
instinctively drawing it behind his back. He’d left it unhealed for one good
reason—a reminder, for when he had to visit Harry today. This is what
happens when you lose control, it read. And this could happen to HIM, if
you lose control again. He let out an unsteady sigh. “Accident,” he said
hoarsely, and was at a loss to comprehend the way Harry’s pupils expanded. He
remembered that the boy must be handled delicately. It wouldn’t do to alienate
him by letting him think Remus was angry over the kiss—only to his thumb, at
any rate. And I’ll never wash it again, he joked to himself. Harry was
looking at his feet now, ashamed. Remus had to reassure him. Yeah,
right. Any excuse is good enough now, isn’t it?
Remus cut the thought off at its knees and swiftly pulled
Harry forward, kissing him lightly.
The man had put a great deal more thought than he would
have cared to admit into that kiss. He could not simply ravish the boy’s mouth,
shouldn’t even touch him there—it would be considered inappropriate—would be
inappropriate. And he couldn’t kiss him on the cheek or the head—Harry might
consider that patronizing. Instead, he pressed his to to the youth’s temple,
and then pulled Harry’s hand up, and grazed the knuckles with his lips. He
couldn’t seem to stop. He turned Harry’s hand over, and kissed the palm,
trailing a finger down the boy’s life line. “I’m not at all angry with you,” he
whispered.
Harry shuddered with pleasure. That voice, those hands—on
his palm! who knew his palm was that sensitive! and those lips! Those
lips had never touched him before. He felt his body react to the sensory
experience, and he started to become panicky. He dimly heard Lupin say, “Go
take your shower. I’ll wait here,” before he rushed off to get cleaned off—and
jerked off, as well, Harry supposed, discomfited.
Lupin watched the boy grab some clean clothes and hasten
out of the room. He’s in quite the hurry to get away from me, isn’t he?
he thought sadly. Guess I overdid it. Well, you great lump, that’ll
teach you to keep your lips to yourself. He sat forlornly on the bed,
tapping his fingers together and trying to pretend he didn’t feel sorry for
himself. Sighing, he glanced down and saw whitish streaks on the sheets. Blushing
a little, he pulled the covers up over them.
least you know he wasn’t doing that with someone else. He grimaced a little
at the unworthy thought. After all, Harry deserved happiness as much as anyone.
Certainly, he deserved it far more than Lupin did.
Remus squirmed a little, as a mental picture of Harry
engaged in last night’s activities popped into his head. It struck him that the
boy had likely been occupied doing the same thing he himself had done, and
probably around the same time. He shifted uncomfortably on the mattress again,
aware that he was becoming aroused. Well, with a werewolf’s heightened sense of
smell, the perfume of sexual activity almost made it impossible not to
be. He tried to tell himself that this, at least, was not his fault.
And since it was the smell of Harry, and Harry had done
it, and this was Harry’s room…could he really help imagining Harry as he was
last night? Head thrown back against the mattress…eyes half-closed with lust,
as he fantasized about…well; who knows what he imagined—not Remus,
certainly—lips parted, breath coming fast and sharp through his mouth…sucked in
past his teeth, over his tongue and down his throat, before being exhaled
quickly once aga—
“Professor Lupin?” Harry was in the doorway, his lean
chest bare and glistening.
Remus quickly moved his hand out of his lap and stood
jerkily. “Erm. Yes? Ah—all—sh—showered, then? Ready to go?” He was rattled—God,
there was no way the boy could miss that fact—and his voice was all scratchy
again. He swallowed frantically a couple of times, trying to clear the
coarseness away.
f !sf !supportEmptyParas]>
Harry blinked. God, that VOICE again. Why does he have
to DO that to me? He fervently desired to be back in the shower, and wished
he’d just said ‘to hell with it’ and got it off, instead of hurrying back so
Remus would not get too bored. Or notice that Harry’d already got it off once
recently—on the bed. “Um, yeah, sure. Just about, anyhow. I need a different
shirt, though; this one’s gotten too small.” He held up the offending piece of
clothing. Trying to ground himself in reality, Harry shook his head, and
droplets of water flew, some of them spattering against Remus, who looked
stunned. “Gosh, I’m sorry!”
naked and dripping wet, and thinks I could become tEASTEAST bit upset with him
for making me a part of his male supermodel shaking-the-water-out-of-his-hair
impression?
your Firebolt, I’ll hit you with the Disillusionment Charm and we’ll be in
business!”
“You mean—we’re flying to Diagon Alley?” Harry
couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice. Remus smiled at him—that same sweet
smile that he’d given Harry the day before, and it caused the same funny flip
in Harry’s stomach.
chance to get in the air again.” Remus was enormously pleased that he’d been
able to arrange to give Harry this, at least. The youth was obviously thrilled
at the prospect of getting off the ground again. “But,” he warned seriously,
“you’ll have to promise to stay right by my side, Harry.”
It should have made him feel resentful; the idea that he
was a child that needed looking after, but Harry had a difficult time working
up any real ire over it. Close to Remus. As close as he liked. He tried to look
mildly defiant, but relatively indifferent as he shrugged. “Yeah, all right.
Whatever.”
Remus’s smile
faltered a little. Uh oh, he thought. Is Mister Adolescent Antagonismyingying us a visit this early? He frowned concernedly at the boy, who saw
his expression and immediately went pink.
“Er. Sorry. I mean; I don’t mind being close to you—ah flying
close to you—next to you. Erm. You know. Sorry.” Harry ducked his head.
Remus had to hold back a sigh. He wished Harry wouldn’t
do this to himself. All this business of turning on the ‘hit the ground on his
knees and beg forgiveness’ act when Remus got the slightest hint of being upset
was going to have to go. He couldn’t live like this; sure, he was more
than capable of manipulating Sirius and even, at times, James with prods at
their guilty consciences, but Harry was different. Harry was rmsyonsible—at
least; Harry was responsible most of the time. Some of the time. Far more often
than the Marauders had been, at any rate. Harry had enough guilt. What he
needed was a little fun.
Remus slung an arm around the boy’s shoulders, pushing
him out the door. Ordinarily, as a werewolf, he had never learned to be
comfortable about touching other people—or had learned, rather, that other
people were uncomfortable about touching him. But Harry needed reassurance, and
Remus was at a loss over how to give it any other way. “C’mon, then,” he told
the teen mildly. “Let’s hit the skies, shall we?” He was rewarded by one of
Harry’s more brilliant smiles.
“Man, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to be tethered to
you all the way to London,” Harry said with mock aggravation. “When I could fly
loops around you! I could probably be there and back by the time you got off
the ground,” he added, with fine braggadocio. He glanced at the werewolf,
giving him a shy, teasing grin.
Lupin’s eyes shone
with good humor as he looked at the boy. “Oh, you think you’re that good, do
you, little red corvette?” The reference, of course, went right over Harry’s
head, which was what Remus intended anyway. He was tremendously relieved that Harry
felt comfortable enough to joke, and happy enough, as well. “Anyhow, I might
not be a screaming eagle, but I’ll bet I can go plenty fast for a lightweight
like yourself.”
“Oh, really?” Harry responded, green eyes gleaming.
“Well, I’ll just take that bet! And if you lose…” he trailed off, scrunching up
his nose in thought.
“Don’t bother making your pretty little head hurt,” Remus
told him dryly, “the question won’t even arise. On the other hand, if I win,
I think I’ll make you do my laundry for the next few months.” Dimly, he
wondered what was getting into him; he was teasing, yes, that was fine—but it
was precious close to flirting, now, and that wouldn’t do at all.
“Well, if I win, I’m gonna make you spend every
spare moment of your time away from your work,” Harry said in a way that
left no doubt as to what he was talking about, “here, with me, and
my awful family, for the next few months. You’ll see how it feels to die of
boredom.”
Harry’s uncle glared at this, as they passed by him. He
opened his mouth as if to say something—likely nasty—but Lupin spoke before he
could manage to get anything out. “Oh, I don’t think boredom can kill
werewolves,” he responded absently, causing the man to blanch and snap his mouth
shut. “Silver, yes, and fire…but I’m afraid boredom just wouldn’t do it;
although it would be a trial, certainly,” he added evenly, glancing over
his shoulder at the homeowner. He rarely played the werewolf card; Harry was
just about the only thing that warranted it, anymore.
As they stood in the front hallway, and Remus was getting
ready to put the Disillusionment Charm on his young charge, he held his arm
around Harry for just a moment longer, as he looked over the boy’s head, and
gave Vernon Dursley one very wickedly threate smi smile.
“Ready?” Harry queried, tilting his head back to look up
at him.
“Absolutely,” Remus replied innocently, mild-mannered
professor once more.
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Harry
landed lightly in front of the Leaky Cauldron, grinning broadly. Remus touched
down beside him and ushered him inside, past the patrons and into the alley,
before taking off the Charm. He was still a bit out of breath, but managed to
give Harry an amused, disgruntled look as he tapped the brick and made ready
their entrance into thgicagical world.
Harry
couldn’t help having a little fun at Remus’s expense. Especially if he really
could trap the man in his bedroom for a good portion of the next few
months—talk about sweetening the deal! “‘Slow down!’ he says. ‘I’m starting to
get motion-sickness, hurtling along like this,’ he says!” Harry snickered a
little at Remus’s twisted smile.
“Stop
that,” the man ordered. “It’s not nice to make fun of elderly werewolves just
because they can’t keep up with you. You’ll be old too, someday.”
clasclass=MsoNormal> “You’re not
‘elderly,’” Harry insisted, following the man down the street. “And I’m never
going to get old.” It sounded for a moment as though he meant it as a joke, but
then Remus noticed his face stiffen, and he repeated softly, “I’m never going
to get old.”
“That’s
not true, Harry,” Remus told him urgently. The boy didn’t answer, and the man
grabbed his shoulders and spun him round to face him. “Harry, that isn’t
true,” he growled. He had to fight the urge to shake the other wizard, to
find a way to make him see sense. “I promise, Harry. You’ll make it. I’ll do
whatever it takes, but you’ll make it.”
Harry was
bewildered by his own wildly vacillating emotions. To think that just a short
while ago, he had been over the moon, nearly pressed against Remus’s side,
racing through the air with the wind on his face—and now he was almost completely
depressed, or would be, if Lupin hadn’t had both hands tight on his upper arms.
And wasn’t growling at him. Damn teenage hormones and moods and…everything! he
fumed. He felt, deep down, that a werewolf’s growl should not, as a
general rule, give anyone an instant hard-on. There had to be something
wrong with him! And he didn’t want to think about Voldemort now, of all
times! Thinking of Voldemort led to thinking about Sirius and…
Remus could
see Harry’s moarkearken. It was obvious by the way his dark brows
lowered, and a small, pouting frown formed on those lovely lips. The
scintillating jade eyes became merely jaded, losing their sparkle and warmth,
and turning hard and distant. Remus could practically see the boy’s soul
withdraw into itself. “Here, Harry,” he muttered, desperately trying to think
of a way to distract the boy. “Let’s head over to the bookstore; Hermione is
supposed to meet us there.”
This did
not have quite the effect Remus had intended. Harry’s brooding merely switched
topics. He wasn’t particularly up to pretending to match Hermione’s
enthusiasm—not to mention her quick thinking. Why was she here, anyway? His
face must have shown at least part of this, because Lupin answered without
being asked.
“She’s
going to help you train to Apparate. She’s fairly experienced, but still new
enough at it to understand most difficulties you might encounter. After all,
she very recently encountered most of them herself,” Lupin informed him.
“I’m surprised
she didn’t get it perfect the very first time,” Harry muttered sullenly,
drawing a reproving glance from his…guess he would be my GUARDIAN,
for the moment, he thought sourly. He wasn’t certain why suddenly he felt
so irritated. It was just…it wasn’t fair that Hermione was horning in on his
time with Lupin. Who was probably straight and not interested, anyway. And
probably thought of him as a surrogate son or something. Harry silently cursed
the day he was born.
“Hi,
Harry!” Hermione said brightly when they found her, but wisely refrained from
hugging her fellow student. Harry had a face like a thundercloud, and Hermione
seemed to realize it would be best if she tried not to annoy him. “Gosh, do we
have to leave already? I just found the most fascinating book and—”
“Later,
Hermione,” Harry told her stiffly.
Lupin
attempted a smile, and was put off by the way Harry’s face darkened further.
“We’ll come aft after the lesson, how’s that? I need to pick upook ook on
advanced thaumaturgical oils, at any rate. And the oils themselves, if
we have time.”
Hermione
beamed, pretending not to notice Harry’s face. “Oh, good,” was all she said.
“Look,
isn’t this dangerous?” Harry asked as they wound their way through the
street. “What if someone sees me here? What if someone wants to kill me? We
can’t practice this right out in the open, can we?” he wondered, puzzled.
“No,
you’re quite right about that. I’ll have to explain when we get there—there are
too many people about, today. It was clever of you to question it—but
I’ll have to ask you to keep quiet until I give the nod. All right?” Remus
hated to do it, but he gave Harry an anxious look, and Harry nodded.
Harry, for
once, had not so much noticed the look as the comment on his cleverness, and he
found he was feeling suddenly much better about the whole ordeal. “You didn’t
think to ask that, did you?” he questioned Hermione in an undertone.
The girl
pinched her lips before answering. “Well. I trusted they had all of that under
control. And after all, it’s hardly the sort of thing you ask about when you’re
in public,” she hissed at him.
Harry only
grinned. She hadn’t thought to ask. Hermione looked cross about his smile for a
moment, but then she shook her head and smiled back. She really was trying very
hard to keep him in a good mood.
perplexity, Remus led the students right into Gringotts Bank. He was about to
ask, ‘What are we doing here?’ but then seemed to think better of it,
shutting his mouth. This caused Remus to smile and nod almost rewardingly at
him, and Harry felt heat creep into his cheeks. He had a sudden urge to touch
the man, to be closer to him, and he hurried to walk by Lupin’s side. Harry
calculatedly brushed his hand against Lupin’s at the first opportunity. He
wasn’t sure how Lupin would react to that—he always seemed so reluctant to
touch people—but the man merely gave him another charming smile before leading
him up to the counter.
Privately,
Lupin was gratified by Harry’s touch. He had been worried that, after the
incident this morning, the boy would be uncomfortable around him. He hadn’t
intended to get carried away with the kisses; it was only that physical affection
was so rare in the werewolf’s wothatthat he sometimes overdid it when given an
opening.
The goblin
at the counter had orange eyes, and gave them a sharp look. “Do you have your
key?” he asked them, but instead of a key, Lupin produced a gold medallion.
“Actually,
we need to make a deposit,” the werewolf stated offhandedly, sliding the metal
into the goblin’s long fingers.
The bank
worker scrutinized the medallion extensively before glancing up at the man,
then gazing at himentlently for a moment. He waved one of those long, bony
fingers in the air, gesturing someone to come over. “Leftscratch,” he called.
When a
shorter, squatter goblin arrived, the one at the counter smiled. “Please take
this party downstairs in order to make their deposit,” he said in a clipped
voice, and the second goblin nodded and led the way.
They
entered what Harry had begun to think of as ‘the mine shaft,’ and clambered
into a cart. Hermione looked totally composed, and Harry was, for his part,
rather excited. He’d never been on a roller coaster or even to an amusement
park, but he imagined that whizzing along a narrow track beneath Gringotts was
probably a similar experience. He’d always enjoyed it. Remus was watching Harry,
and Harry thought he looked slightly bemused.
The cart
slowed to a stop outside a set of iron double doors, outside of which stood one
sneering Severus Snape. When they’d all tumbled out of the cart on unsteady
legs, Remus nodded to his fellow Order member, who merely looked disdainful.
“Thanks for the help, Professor Snape,” Remus said quietly. “You can tell them
that everything went as planned.”
“Very
well. ‘Idiot enterprise proceeding smashingly.’ Don’t worry. I’ll make a note of
it. Do not forget about tomorrow,” he added, almost snapping the words. “Recall
that it will likely be even less pleasant than last time. Since I’m forced to
accommodate you in the matter, the very least you could do is attempt to
arrive on time, for once. And if you are not, you shall not find me waiting.”
Sniffing a little, he Disapparated with a pop.
“What did
he mean?” Hermione asked curiously, brown eyes glittering.
“It’s
nothing you need worry about,” Lupin responded dismissively. “It just has to do
with the potion Severus has been good enough to supply me with, once again. He
really is a talented potions maker.”
“He’s a
bloody wanker,” Harry grumbled, getting a disapproving look from Hermione.
“Well, he is. Andjustjust totally disrespected Professor Lupin,” he
pointed out.
“I’m not
really your professor anymore,” Remus responded mildly, feeling just slightly
pleased that Harry felt at all offended on his behalf. It had been too long
since anyone cared about him that much.
“You
pretty much are, at least at the moment,” Harry pointed out reasonably.
Remus
couldn’t find anything to argue that with, so he simply smiled and turned to
the goblin. “Leftscratch, if you would be so kind as to open the doors for us,”
he entreated, and the olive-skinned creature nodded.
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“All
right,” Hermione jumped in as soon as the doors swung shut, leaving the goblin
waiting with the cart, and the trio in relative privacy, “what’s going on? Why
are we in Gringotts, of all places?”
“I thought you said you trusted
them to have everything under control,” Harry murmured as he walked past her.
They were in a huge vault—the place was so massive, it must have started off as
just a natural cavern. There were stalagtites and stalagmites, and a drip,
drip, dripping came from the ceiling.
“We wanted a place that was
secluded and safe. And no one has ever managed to steal anything from Gringotts
before, so I doubt they’ll manage to steal Harry,” Remus informed the girl.
“Yes, but…Voldemort did break into
Gringotts once, even if he didn’t actually steal anything,” she pointed
out. “Are you sure this is enough of a precaution?”
“Hermione,” moaned Harry. “Would
you please stop badgering Lupin? I’m sure he knows what he’s doing!”
Lupin merely smiled. “We are taking
other precautions,” he told her. “There are extra wards, spells, and
enchantments, no less than three other members of the Order are patrolling both
the bank and the rest of Diagon Alley, and Dumbledore has a oth other tricks up
his sleeve as well. And no, I’m not about to tell you what they are. And now,
since we are doing this on other wizards’ time, I suggest we get cracking!” he
rubbed his hands together, looking just a little excited.
Harry grinned. “Glad to be teaching
again?”
Remus ducked his head a little.
“Well. To be honest, I did rather miss it,” he admitted.
“Then I’m glad to have you teaching
me again,” Harry said softly. “I missed you, too.” Lupin arched a brow
at that, and Harry cleared his throat. “Uh. That is—well, you know. I
wasn’t making it up when I said you were the best Defense teacher we ever had.
I’m really glad to be working with you again,” he continued earnestly.
Lupin fought the smile that was
spreading across his face, but only had partial success. “Thank you, Harry.”
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After practicing for nearly three
hours, Harry was exhausted—but somehow invigorated. Apparating was much harder
than it looked, but it was still very rewarding. After listening to Lupin and
Hermione lecture about theory and possible problems for nearly an hour, Harry
had become irked and demanded the chance to try it himself. And he’d done it.
The first time. Perfectly. Of course, every time after that he’d screwed
up in some small way or other, but he was of the opinion it was totally worth
it—for the look on Hermione’s face. And it was really neat to start out at one
spot and then instantly arrive at another. Of course, he never got to go very
far—a few feet were the standard for beginners.
Plus,
Lupin had clapped his arms around him, telling Harry how proud he was and how
wonderful it was—which sent Harry right up to cloud nine. And he’d announced
afterwards, “All right. Now back to Flourish and Blotts, to get that book and
unwind a bit in general,” which cheered the shocked Hermione quite a bit. Then,
unfortunately, Lupin had to go and mention Sirius and James, and how proud they
would be, and that made Harry feel guilty and resentful, respectively. He
wasn’t certain when he’d begun to resent his own father, but it was happening
more and more often, recently. He suspected that a good bit of it was the small
fact that he looked so remarkably like his father. Dumbledore had warned
him he’d tire of that—and he had. Mostly, he felt, because if Remus saw him as
a little carbon copy of James Potter, he could never be interested in Harry.
Not that he would, anyway. But just in case. Still. Unfair.
When they
arrived at the bookshop, Hermione dove into the stacks with all the passion of
a scuba aficionado with permission to visit the Bismarck. Lupin went to
ask the shopkeeper for his book, and Harry wandered around, waiting on his
companions.
Harry found
an area of tomes on the subject of Dark Creatures, and delved in with rather
more interest than usual. This was what Lupin had taught them, and he’d made it
so interesting that Harry had no trouble becoming absorbed in the subject once
more. He picked up book after book, quickly finding himself so fascinated that
he neither knew nor cared what the others were doing. After re-shelving a slim
volume on Mermaids, his roaming fingertips skittered across the gold embossing of
a large work titled The World of Werewolves, and he tugged it free,
feeling intensely curious.
He had
never gotten as far as werewolves in class—didn’t even have the desire to do
so. He didn’t object to knowing more in general, but the idea of sitting among
his classmates, as they all wrote down Remus Lupin’s lupine traits, as if he
was some sort of interesting project…it just seemed wrong. Now, though, he
found himself wondering, What WERE some of the more distinguishing
characteristics of a werewolf? How many of them were there? Were they any
closer to finding a cure? Did werewolves share qualities outside of form,
like…allergies, or likes and dislikes…sexual appetites…?
He was
flipping through the book, completely absorbed, when he suddenly felt a hand on
his shoulder, which made him jump. “I’m sorry, Harry; I didn’t mean to startle
you. I just wanted to let you know I’ve found my book, so now we’re just
waiting on Hermione.”
“Pull out
a cot and set your alarm for ‘Next Century,’ then,” Hamuttmuttered, flipping a
page.
Remus
laughed quietly. “She won’t be able to take that long,” he told the boy.
“Her parents will arrive to pick her up, shortly. I know it’s a bit of an
inconvenience, but I feel strongly that we should stay until we know she’s been
safely returned to their care.”
“Mmm,”
Harry responded, feeling only a slight flaring of envy that Remus ‘felt so
strongly’ about taking care of Hermione. Here was a picture of a werewolf
transforming. It was lurid in its detail, but it also pretty well followed his
own memory of the night he’d seen Remus transform.
“Good
book, is it?” Remus inquired ironically as the poor bastard on the page went
through the horrific conversion again and again.
Harry
blushed and quickly turned the page as he realized the werewolf was starting to
lean over his shoulder. The next chapter was so astounding Harry completely
forgot his embarrassment. “Oh, wow! Would you look at this,” he said to Lupin
in a hushed voice, “Werewolves and Animagi, a Symbiotic Relationship.lupine state! Just like Dad and Sirius did!”
Remus
smiled at Harry and tilted the book so he could see the cover. “Ah, yes.
Ignatius Ignobal. I believe this is the book that gave them the idea, actually.
Or was it that they saw this segment in some other book?... I can’t quite
recall, at the moment.”
“Wow.
Really? This was what they read that made them want to become Animagi? This
must be a really great book.” He looked longingly at the cover. Why hadn’t he
thought to get some money out while he was at Gringotts? He’d already finished
his course books. It would have been great to have some other kind of summer
reading—and learn more about Remus at the same time.
Harry’s
desire must have shown on his face, because Lupin said, “If you want it that
badly, I’ll buy it for you.” Harry looked up in disbelief, and the man smiled.
“You—” You
can’t buy this for me; you can’t afford it. If you have the extra money, I’d
rather you bought yourself some new clothes. A nice, silky shirt that you left
unbuttoned partway down your chest, for preference. “Er, you don’t have to
do that. Really. I don’t want you to spend money like that just to keep me
entertained.”
Lupin was
smiling and disagreeing at the same time, shaking his head. “I didn’t get you
anything for your birthday—”
“You made
that behemoth birthday cake for me, that’s more than enough—”
“Then I’ll
do it to reward you for your hard work today. You did a fantastic job. You
father would have been proud—he would have rewarded you, I’m certain of
that.”
Harry
glowered. “Don’t do it because that’s what he would do. If you’re going
to do it, do it because you want to do it. I want Remus Lupin
giving it to me, and I don’t want my father involved, understood? I don’t want
you trying to fill his shoes. That’s not fair to either of us.”
trying to keep from smiling. “All right. You’re absolutely right; it was
inconsiderate of me to say that. Since Remus Lupin is more than a little
proud of you, and Remus Lupin would like to show his friendship, and since
Remus Lupin does not want you to be bored all summer, and especially
since Remus Lupin finds it gratifying that you should have an interest
in that particular subject, I, Remus Lupin, am going to purchase that
book for you.” He squeezed the youth’s shoulder gently.
Harry gave
him a crooked grin. “All right,” he kept his eyes lowered. “I take it you think
it’s a good book, then?”
Remus
shrugged, seating himself in rmchrmchair arranged nearby for the patrons’ use.
Harry followed him and perched on the arm. “It’s…an important book. It’s not
completely accurate, though. You see, Ignatius himself was not a werewolf, so
he wasn’t writing from firsthand experience. He was, however—and for
whatever reason—obsessed with werewolves, so he researched the topic
meticulously and put every bit of information he came across into that monster
work. It was the first book ever written solely about werewolves, and added
quite a bit to the intelligence—and misinformation—that people take for granted
today.”
“It was
the first?” Harry’s face fell. He’d been hoping for something detailing current
developments in researching a cure. Oh, well. This should be interesting, at
least. He scanned through the pages as they awaited Hermione. “Wow. A Werewolf
mates for life,” he read. “Is that true?” his eyes slid sideways to see the
man flipping through his own book, a wry smile on his face.
“Haven’t
the foggiest,” he mumbled. He sounded just a little bit awkward, so Harry let
the subject drop.
Mate.
What a sexy, romantic idea, he thought. Harry read on. There was all
sorts of stuff about marking and possessiveness and territory and sex and the
need to be near one’s mate, and Harry was absolutely enthralled. Hermione even
had to reach over and shake him, saying, “My parents are here, Harry. Didn’t
you hear me? We’re ready to pay, now.”
“Huh? Oh.
Yeah, all right.” Harry tore his eyes away from a drawing of one man (the
werewolf) licking another (the mate) behind his ear. They were both men.
Harry was thrilled and mortified. He should not think of Lupin that way.
But, at the same time, he could not help it. He wanted that. He
wanted to be Lupin’s mate. Badly. He clutched the book to his chest, biting his
sore lip. He was going to have to stop obsessing over this, really. It couldn’t
do any good.
“Gosh,
Harry, I’ve never seen you so engrossed in a book before!” Hermione said to
him. “It must be really great. Can I borrow it when you’re done?”
“Erm. Yeah,
maybe,” Harry replied noncommittally. He felt distinctly uncomfortable at the
idea of his friend perusing the same pages that had turned him on so much. He
nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and after they’d all paid for their purchases,
allowed Hermione to give him a quick hug goodbye. “Thanks for your help today.”
She smiled
as though he was a pet dog that had finally gotten ‘stay’ down correctly. “I’m
always around if you need help, Harry,” she told him. “Don’t forget that.
Anyway, next time Ron will take a turn. Try not to let him get stuck in any
more rocks, all right? He did the first time, you know.”
Harry
laughed and promised, and the friends parted ways.
As he
waited for Remus outside of the Apothecary, Harry kept going over the book in
his head. He kept seeing that illustration of the two men. It was a wizards
illustration, so they kept moving…the werewolf would work his way down the
other man’s neck, causing his mate to throw his head back in ecstasy. Well, it had
looked to Harry like he’d been enjoying it, at any rate. He felt like the page
was burning a hole in the book, or the book was burning hot under his arm. He
felt guilty and excited, and was sure that if anyone looked at him, they would
be immediately suspicious.
“All
right, Green Eyes?” Harry suppressed a giggle as Remus led him back towards the
Leaky Cauldron. The man pulled his wand out, ready to cast the Disillusionment
Charm again.
<
Out of the
blue, Harry heard someone yell, “Petrificus Totalus!” and watched with
shock as Remus stiffened and pitched forward. He instinctively tried to catch
the man, and didn’t even hear the curse that hit him.
Remus was
in Harry’s arms, but that was the only thing right in Harry’s world. He
held desperately onto the werewolf as ythiything went black.
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I apologize for overusing the Harry-jealous-of-Hermione bit,
but it’s useful. Anyway, the next bit is about to get really cliché. But
it shall have a twist, of course. Next, our brave heroes languish in the hands
of their enemies.
Oh, yes, and I wanted to thank all of you profusely for
reviewing, it’s terribly encouraging, you know. Oh, and thank you, Lunadeath,
for pointing out the errors in the last chap. I will fix both…when I am awake
again.
Oh, oh! Does anybody want to know my favorite line from this
chapter? I’m going to tell you anyhow: ‘I want Remus Lupin giving it to
me…’ (Laughs) Sorry, but I liked it. I thought it was subtle. All right,
tomorrow I promise I shall write like the wind! Goodnight!
Starry
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