Hermit and Fool

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, no money is being made off of this.
Title: Hermit and Fool
Pairing: Remus/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Dark themed, graphic slash. OotP Spoilers.
Summary: A bitter and angry Harry wants more from Remus then he’s prepared to give. Written a while ago, but things came up and I couldn\'t update.

A/N: This is definately for the two hottest gals I know. I don\'t know which was better. The inspirational sex, or the post fic-sex. Sorry I didn\'t post this sooner, but you know. Broken back and all. Damn my sudden handicap!


Two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks didn’t simply vanish overnight, but that was how it seemed to Remus Lupin. One day he was being told that Harry would be there in two weeks, and the next Harry was *there*.

He looked the same as he had at the end of the previous school year, drawn and tired. Remus sorely wished he wasn’t alone to greet him, but…

“Harry.” He wasn’t certain what else to say. Merlin knew he loved the boy, but…

“Hi Professor Lupin.”

“Call me Remus, please.”

There was a moment of rather awkward silence. Harry stood, looking at the floor, trunk sitting beside him.

“Well,” Remus went on. “Standing about in the foyer is hardly the way to get settled.” He tried out a smile, hoping to put Harry at ease. It was going to be diflt. lt. Of course Harry was going to be uncomfortable around him. Pleasant and cordial as his letters hand been, Remus knew he must bring back memories.

“Can I stay in the same room I stayed in over the Holidays?” Harry asked, finally looking up.

“Of course.” Remus was in no position to deny Harry anything. “Here, I’ll take your trunk.”

“I’ve got it.”

Remus just nodded. He led Harry silently through the house, no sound but the creaking of the floorboards beneath their feet. This was far more uncomfortable then he had imagined.

“Here we are.” Remus paused in front of the door, hating this tense silence that stretched between them.

“Where is everybody?” Harry finally asked.

“Out,” Remus said. “I’m sorry it’s just me…”

“No! Don’t be sorry.” Harry shook his head. “I…it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” He was tempted to reach out for him. He was tempted, but restrained himself. Merlin but he didn’t know what to say. Putting words on parchment was a far cry from addressing those blank eyes. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, nodding. “Thanks. I’m just gonna unpack, okay?”

“Of course.” Remus could see the dismissal for what it was, and backed away.

“Can I…after, can I see Buckbeak?”

“Of course.” Remus nodded again, a bit slower this time. “I think he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Thanks.” A rather weak and empty smile, and Harry disappeared inside the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day progressed much the same. Harry spent most of his time in his room, claiming schoolwork that needed to be done. Remus didn’t protest. Harry needed to heal, regardless of what anyone else seemed to think. He was in pain, that much was obvious. And Remus had no idea what to do to help.

Merlin, he could hardly even help himself. How many nights had he lain awake with half a mind to follow Sirius to the other side? Too many for his liking. He knew he’d never actually do it, but the thought was there. It would be ridiculously simple…

And ridiculously stupid, when considered in the light of day. The repercussions were astronomical, and hardly worth it.

“Harry?” He didn’t expect anyone else around that evening. It seemed everyone had more and more reason to be *away* from Grimmauld Place. Except for Remus. He supposed he was only making things worse, but he immersed himself in the house. He wasn’t entirely certain why, only that it had become something very dear to his heart.

“Yeah?” Harry’s pale and pinched face appeared in the crack of his door.

“Dinner.”

“Oh. I’m not real hungry, thanks anyway.” He started to close the door.

“Do you think you could stand to keep me company?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the side in an inquisitive gesture. It wasn’t healthy for Harry to just stay in his room, moping.

“Oh. Sure.”

Dinner was stilted and awkward.

“You really should eat…”

“I’ll have something later.” Harry seemed fidgety and completely unlike himself. He glanced around the room, tapping his fingers on his thigh. Remus did his best, attempting to engage him in discussions of schoolwork, and his possible Auror career.

Harry wasn’t much in the mood to talk, and excused himself as soon as Remus had finished his dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week went by, and nothing changed. Harry barely spoke a word to anyone, and eventually Remus’ attempts at conversation and bits of advise were met only with sullen looks, and occasionally hostile glares. And then Harry withdrew altogether.

Remus was at a loss. No one seemed comfortable discussing the subject of Harry. It was not a problem that would go away if ignored.

Perhaps he’d taken the wrong approach, in not talking to him. But…he couldn’t talk about Sirius. He could hardly even think the name without his breath catching and his legs quivering. Thinking of discussing what had happened with Harry…he could feel the bile rising in his throat.

But it was for the better. He sighed, and headed up to Harry’s room.

Knocking proved useless. There was no response at all from inside. Remus sighed, and knocked louder. This was getting out of hand.

“Harry?”

“What?”

That was not a tone he had ever imagined Harry’s voice would take. He swallowed back his own sickly self pity, and leaned against the door.

“May I come in?”

“Why?” Suspicious. Angry. Harry was making it very clear he wanted nothing to do with Remus at the moment.

“I’d like to talk to you…” He kept his voice low and calm. Getting angry would do no good. The last thing Harry needed was to be yelled at.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Look, I’ve got to finish some schoolwork…”

“You’re doing schoolwork all day,” Remus said. “Please Harry…”

“Fine!”

Remus sighed, opening the door. Harry was standing looking out the window, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders rigid.

“Harry…”

“What?” He turned around, eyes defiant and bright. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Harry…you’re not actinge yoe yourself…”

“How would you know what I act like?” Harry snapped. Remus took an unconscious step back, confused. “You don’t know anything about me, you just pretend you do!”

“Harry…” he couldn’t summon anything coherent to dispute this. He had not expected to be confronted with such blind anger. “Stop this. I know you’re going through a tough time, but…”

“Tough?” Harry made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. It cut through Remus’ heart, and he had to swallow hard again. “Just go away. Please.”

“No, Harry.” Remus shook his head. “You need to…you need to move on.” The words fell from him, dead and heavy. Merlin but they were so cold. They hit him in the gut, weakening him even as he spoke them.

“Just shut up, all right! You’re not my dad, so stop acting like it!”

“Someone has to!” Remus snapped, the words not pausing in his mind before they were on his lips.

The silence that followed stretched on, spun out between them like something delicate and fragile. Remus wanted very much to sink onto Harry’s bed, to relieve his trembling legs and allow his body to breathe properly. But he was frozen, locked in place by Harry’s wide emerald eyes.

“I’m sorry.” The words were small and quiet, and Harry turned away as soon as he’d said them. The words and movement broke the moment, and Remus crossed the room to pay a shaking hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Harry was a young man now, he wasn’t the boy Remus realized he still saw him as. It was a painful revelation.

“So am I,” he said as softly as Harry had. He felt Harry shift under his hand, and was completely surprised when he flung his arms around him. Remus acted instinctively, wrapping his own arms around Harry and drawing him close. Merlin, how he’d missed simple human contact.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said again, face muffled by Remus’ shoulder.

“I know.” Remus rubbed his back softly, kissing the top of his head. “Harry, I love you but you have to stop this.”

“What?” Harry pulled away, eyes glittering and cheeks streaked with the diamond paths of tears. “Did you just say that you loved me?”

“Yes…” Remus licked his lips nervously, confused. “Of course I love you Harry…” Had there ever been any doubt? Or perhaps he’d taken offense…

“You’re the first person that’s ever said that to me.”

“What?” Surely that couldn’t be true.

“Nobody’s ever said that to me,” Harry said again, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He pulled away, turning as though he has said something offensive.

“Harry…” Remus reached out for him, refusing to let go. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, leaving it there. But he should have.

Harry relented, allowed himself to be spun about and embraced again. Remus pulled him close, unprepared for the feel of soft lips against his own, desperate hands clinging at his shoulders. Harry was kissing him. Harry was kissed him in the way that Sirius used to, before…

No.

“Harry…” Remus pulled away, searching the young man’s eyes for any hint of explanation.

“I love you…” The words were torn out of him, pained and tainted with tears. Remus felt his own throat closing, logic and reason escaping him. Harry was right. Remus knew nothing about him, nothing at all. He surely would have been able to predict this…

“Not like this,” Remus managed to say. Harry was confused, that was all. He was reaching out in the only way he knew how, obviously he was starved for affection.

“How do you know?” he asked softly, stealing another kiss from Remus’ unresisting lips. This was w. Si. Sirius…dear Merlin Sirius…

But Sirius was dead. Sirius was dead and Harry…

Harry was sixteen. Harry was hardly more then a boy, Harry…

Harry was legal, and willing.

But it wasn’t right. Harry was practically his son, if only be default. How could he abuse his trust and affection in this manner? He was a hateful thing for even entertaining the possibility.

“No, Harry.” Remus pushed him way, hand firm on his chest. “It can’t be this way between us.”

“Why not?” Harry demanded. “You didn’t seem too upset when I kissed you…”

“You took me by surprise. Harry, you’re only sixteen. I’m…much older then that. And I think of you as a son…”

“Why?” Harry asked, eyes shrewd and impossible to read.

“Why?”

“Why do you look at me like that? Have you always looked at me like that, or is it just now?”

He knew he couldn’t lie to those eyes. They burned through him, and would catch him in whatever placation he offered up.

“Just now.”

“I don’t need a father,” Harry said softly. “And I don’t want that from you.”

“But I can’t give you what you think you do want…”

“Yes you can.”

Harry was firm in his convictions. He was stubborn and strong and certain of what he thought he wanted. But what he wanted…it was a dream, a fantasy. Remus was thirty nine years old, and mourning his godfather.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m old enough. I want this. Why cant you give it to me? I need…”

“You don’t need *this*.” Remus put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, not looking away from his eyes. Dear Merlin those eyes, they’d be the end of him. They weren’t Lily’s eyes anymore, they were too full of pain.

“How do you know what I need?” Harry clenched his jaw together, tightly.

“I…I don’t. But I know what you don’t need.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Harry…” That was not a point of discussion.

“What’s so wrong with me?” Harry demanded.

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Remus shook his head, smiling sadly. “If…if the situation were different…”

“But it’s not, and it’s not going to be!” Harry swallowed hard, his eyes filling again with tears. “I don’t ask for hardly anything, Remus. I just…I just want…”

“Oh Harry.” Remus could feel the tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes, and he found himself speechless in front of that argument. “Please…please don’t do this to me…”

“Just tonight?”

“I can’t…” The pain and desperation in those words undid him. No matter whaotesotests he had gathered, what defenses he’d built, they were wiped away by two pained words and a pair of haunting verdine eyes. “What do you want?”

“You.”

‘You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I do.” Harry just nodded, and preempted any further arguments with his lips. This was wrong…

But it didn’t matter anymore. Remus found he honestly didn’t care. Harry was pulling at him, urging him over to the bed. The bed. No…

“Harry, have you ever…?”

“No.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk. He crushed his lips against Remus’ once more, shoving his robes off of his shoulders with shaky fingers. The fabric rustled as it fell, laying like a corpse on the bare floor.

The bed was against the backs of his knees, and Harry was pressing him down into it. He could end this, if he truly wanted. Harry was slim and weightless, and Remus was possessed of preternatural strength. But he allowed himself to come ue une under the younger man’s lips and hands.

And his body responded, the traitorous vessel that it was. Harry was tearing at his shirt, fumbling with the hem, tugging it upwards.

“Harry…”

“Please!”

“Yes.” Remus sat up, putting a hand over his. “You need to slow down.”

Harry glanced up, and nodded. “Okay. Just…I don’t really know…I mean, I *kn but but…”

“I understand.” Remus took his pale, slim hand and raised it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the silken palm, his tongue darting out to trace the lines that spider-webbed across it. He wasn’t certain *why* Harry had become sexually fixated on him, but he was rather certain he’d be disappointed.

“Can I?” Harry was tugging at his jumper again, and the innocent look in his eyes called to a part of Remus’ mind he preferred to ignore.

“Yes.” He raised his arms up, allowing the jumper to be drawn up and tossed aside. Now was the moment of truth. When faced with an emaciated, scar covered body, Harry may not be quite so keen on continuing…

“What happened?” Harry’s eyes widened, and Remus watched as they traced the patter work of raised, white flesh that covered his torso.

“War,” Remus said softly. He shivered as smooth fingertips ran over the scar tissue, as if familiarizing themselves with it.

“It’s not fair,” Harry said, cryptically, before finding Remus’ lips again. What wasn’t fair wot, ot, apparently, for Remus tow. Hw. He decided that it was only proper to return the favor, easily divesting Harry of his own jumper.

“You haven’t been eating well,” Remus commented, drawing a finger down the center of Harry’s chest. He just shrugged, the gesture offhand and unthinking. They were both shadows of their former selves, but what did it matter? Remus didn’t care much for his body, now that his soul was damned.
All too soon they were laying on the bed in a tangle of limbs and garments. Remus was aware of a hand fumbling at the stays of his trousers, the heel of a palm rubbing accidentally over his erection through the stiff cloth. Was Harry even aware of what he was doing?

No, he wasn’t. Remus remained still as Harry’s hand slipped inside of his trousers, trembling fingers stroking him hesitantly. A blanket of silence hung heavy over them, as Harry grew bolder, gripping him firmly. And dry.

“Er…no, Harry, not like that,” Remus said, shaking his head. Even now, he was still the teacher.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t imagine you’ve never…indulged…” Remus said, as delicately as possible. Why, he had no idea. Delicacy was not a main concern when he was half naked in bed with the sixteen year old godson of his dead lover.

“A couple of times…” Harry admitted.

“Dry skin isn’t very pleasant,” Remus said gently. “I don’t imagine you have anything?”

“Uh…I have some hand lotion.”

“That will work fine.” Remus smiled, watching Harry slip off the bed and rummage around in his trunk. The curtains were open, and the moonlight painted him ghostly pale and sylvan. He returned to the bed, tossing the bottle of lotion onto the rumpled sheets. He hesitated a moment, as though thinking on something *very* grave. And then he removed the remained of his clothes, his eyes locked on the floor.

“Is everything all right?” As though now was the time to ask. No, nothing was all right. They were about to do something remarkably stupid. ‘

“Yeah…just kind of shy, I guess.”

“You can still change your mind, Harry.” Remus’ voice was soft, and he curled his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck, resting their foreheads together.

“I know I can,” Harry said. “I’m not going to.”

“All right.” There was nothing more he could do. Rather, there was nothing more he *wanted* to do. Regardless of what he did, there would be repercussions. At least this way they would be worth something.

Remus’ trousers were done away with, and Harry returned to his attentions, hand slicked with lotion. His hand shook, and his fingers traveled along the smooth length almost curiously. Remus watched him, watched his eyes as they concentrated it. He felt more then naked under that intense gaze.

But it was a secondary feeling to the pleasure, the base reaction to having slick fingers tease and pet him. He arched into Harry’s grip, wetting his lips as he felt the tension building inside of him. Could he really be so close, so soon?

“Is this…all?” Remus gasped out, struggling to keep his voice calm.

“What? No…” Harry pulled his hand away, shaking his head. “I…I still want…you know.”

“Are you certain? Harry, if we…if *I*, then there’s nothing can be done for it.”

“I know.” Harry nodded firmly. “I want this. I want you.”

Remus sighed. Albus would have his hide. Merlin, they would all have his hide if they knew what he was doing-what he was about to do.

“All right.” But Harry was certain os des desires and needs, and Remus was too tired to argue. “Lay back.”

Harry did as he was told, looking so young and innocent in the dim light. That should have bothered him. It certainly shouldn’t have urged on his appetite. He found the lotion, coating his fingers in a liberal amount.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Yes.” There was no sense in lying. “But not that badly.”

He allowed himself a moment to just look. He let his eyes wander over naked flesh he had no right to see.

He suddenly wanted it to be done. He looked away, his fingers questing between Harry’s legs. He found his virgin entrance, teased it, stretched it, eased a finger in as slowly as he could. He felt his mind would burst.

Slowly. He needed to go slowly. A second finger joined the first, and then a third. He felt Harry tense, heard his hiss.

“Relax…” Remus urged, rubbing his hip gently. There was little else he could now, to prepare him.
Harry was watching him. His glasses had long since been set aside, and now nothing blocked that vibrant gaze. He had to gather his courage about him, lest he crumble under it. Harry’s leg spread beneath him, inviting him.

This was, he supposed, the moment of truth. He could still stop this, prevent the disaster that was certain to occur. But he wouldn’t, and he knew that, and he pushed all other thoughts away.

His mind was numb throughout the event. He felt Harry arch as he entered, heard him stifle a cry. Brave to a fault. He felt hands gripping at his back, fingertips slipping over swear slicked muscle. And then it was blank and maddening until one brilliant pin point of pleasure.

He was slightly surprised to feel a sticky substance across his stomach. Harrd cld climaxed, the evidence sprayed across them both. Remus rolled over off of him, words hovering nervously on his lips.

“Are….are you all right?” He realized it was ridiculous, but they were the first words that came to mind.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded and rolled over, raking his hair out of his eyes. And he wasn’t g eig either, he felt no resentment. Now.

“Good.” Remus used a spell to clean them, and hesitated in bed.

“Stay with me?” Harry asked, tucking his hands up under his head. Stay with him. It would be obvious what had happened. Remuy doy down beside him, drawing the covers up over them.

“Of course.” What sort of monster would he be, to rip away his innocence and leave him there? Yes, come morning there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind what had transpired. But so be it. He was not one to run from responsibility.

But that would wait until tomorrow. Harry was pressed up warmly against him, and he suddenly found himself exhausted. It had been too long since he had someone sleeping beside him. And Harry was soft and warm and sweet. And his blood was only freshly spilled, and Remus swore he could still smell it.

Despite his assurances, he doubted this would be a one night occurrence. And in a way it was better that way. Harry had lost far too much in his young life. Remus would stay.

Regardless of the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~