Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/620081.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Remus_Lupin/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Remus_Lupin, Harry_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Guilty_Conscience, transference, Rimming
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-02 Words: 5653
****** Responsibilties ******
by Charm
Summary
     “I like that this is our little secret.”
Notes
     For Anise, on the occasion of her birthday.
     Many thanks to fluffyllama for the beta.
A quiet knock at the door broke through the silence that had settled over Remus
Lupin’s quarters. He glanced at his watch: it was well after midnight. Who
would be knocking at this hour? He carefully closed the dusty tome he held in
his hands, absentmindedly stroking his fingers across the brittle, yellowing
spine as he set it down. His knee accidentally bumped the low table beside the
chair and cold tea sloshed out of its cup onto the tall stack of homework
papers he'd put aside to mark that night.
Muttering to himself about how clumsy he was, Remus mopped up what he could
with a handkerchief from his trouser pocket. The knock sounded at the door
again, this time a bit louder.
“One moment!” he called and turned towards the door, discarding the tea-soaked
material.
Remus never opened the door with a wave of his wand or a quick incantation,
thought it impersonal and rude. Pulling the lock up and open with one hand, he
turned the doorknob with the other and yanked open the door; it tended to swell
and stick to the jamb a bit in the winter months.
“Harry!” Remus was surprised to see the boy standing outside his quarters,
especially at this time of night. He ignored the disorienting swoop that came
over him as his heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing here?”
Harry was clenching a cloak in his fist, James’s Invisibility Cloak no doubt,
and looked more than a little nervous. “I’m sorry, Professor, I--I shouldn’t
have bothered you, I’m sorry.” He turned to leave.
“No, no that’s quite all right Harry, come on in.” He waited for Harry to step
through the door and then shut it behind him, pummeling it a bit with his
shoulder to get it to close properly.
Remus strode over to the couch but Harry lingered by the door, hovering timidly
as though poised for quick escape.
“Have a seat Harry, I don’t bite.” Remus chuckled inwardly at his little joke
that Harry, luckily, didn’t get.
Small feet shuffled across the stone floor and a bit of dust rose up when Harry
plopped on the far side of the couch. Remus would really have to remember to
clean it soon, perhaps mention it to one of the House Elves. Harry was silent,
looking uncomfortable.
“So, Harry… what can I help you with?” Remus asked cheerily, though a bit
nervous, turning towards Harry on the couch.
Harry remained quiet and the silence in the room thickened, the only noise
coming from the steady drip-drop of Remus’s tea that was now spilling off the
table and onto the stone floor. “Harry?” A thin line of concern creased Remus’s
brow as he frowned; he was beginning to worry about the lad. “Is there
something wrong?”
Harry mumbled something then, his face turned away from Remus.
“Didn't hear you Harry, sorry?”
“I’m scared,” Harry whispered, his voice thin and weak. He looked thoroughly
ashamed of his admission.
“Of Sirius Black?” Remus asked, part of him cringing at the thought that Harry
had reason to fear his own godfather.
“Yes.”
Remus sighed, fighting to restrain himself from pulling Harry into a comforting
hug. It wouldn’t be appropriate in any situation, but certainly not in his
private quarters well past the midnight hour. But it would have been easier
than trying to reassure Harry; he'd never been very good at cheering people up.
His practical side always seemed to try to take over. And while practicality
had its place, it was of no help in making a thirteen year old boy feel better.
Why couldn’t Harry have gone to Dumbledore with this? Why did Remus always have
to be the dependable one? A spark of anger rushed through his veins before he
had the chance to control it and he heard a low growl slip through his lips; he
cleared his throat to cover it. You should be the one that's here, Sirius, not
me. I shouldn’t have to be the one to look after Harry. Remus silently cursed
the man and the way he had ruined them all. But if Sirius were here, Lily and
James would be, too. There was no use living in a world of what could have
been.
“I don’t blame you Harry; I’m a bit scared myself. It’s natural, nothing to be
ashamed of.” It was bad enough that Harry had Sirius to fear, he didn’t need
shame of that fear to go along with it.
Harry nodded absently and picked at a few loose fibers on the cloak, spinning
them between his fingers. He looked up at Remus through straight black lashes,
reminding Remus so strongly of Lily that a lump formed in his throat and
refused to budge.
“Could you help me?” Harry asked, his eyes shining with hope. “With magic, I
mean. Could you teach me how to protect myself?”
“That’s what Defence Against the Dark Arts is for Harry, learning to protect
yourself.”
“I know, only…” Harry’s voice grew stronger as he turned to address Remus, his
brow furrowing in determination. “Only I need to learn more than that, not just
dark creatures and such, but spells, curses!” Harry’s eyes seemed to light up a
bit at the prospect of learning curses. “In case I need to defend myself.”
Remus smiled indulgently. “Are you asking for private lessons, Harry?”
A smile passed briefly over Harry’s face, his lips twisting into a crooked sort
of heart, and Remus’s heart fluttered in a way it had not for many, many years;
he did his best to push the feelings it evoked down deep beneath the surface. 
“Yes, I suppose I am,” Harry answered. “Please?”
How was he supposed to say no? No, Harry, I will not teach you to properly
defend yourself, even though you will most assuredly need to know how. I’m far
too busy preparing next week’s hinkypunk lesson!
He sighed. “How do Thursdays sound?”
...
Remus tapped his tea cup gently with a warming spell and settled a book on his
blanket-covered lap. The lone candle lighting the room flickered and hissed as
Remus attempted to read, his eyes nowhere near as good as they used to be. He
sighed to himself and set the book on his nightstand. This was a mistake. A big
one. What was he thinking? He didn’t need one more thing to worry about. He
didn’t need to have to make excuses to someone else around the full moon;
things were hard enough as it is. But this is Harry. He needs to be taken care
of.
Only not in the way you might want to take care of him, old man. Sometimes his
conscience was far too perceptive for its own good. He couldn’t ignore the way
his body had reacted, had been reacting if he was going to be honest with
himself, whenever he was close to Harry. But that didn’t make it alright; it
was disgusting, and despicable, and a million other words people would use
against him if they knew his knees went shaky whenever he was in the boy’s
presence.
Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to be the only one left? Remus knew he
was being selfish, but he didn’t think he deserved to be the one left to deal
with it all. It wasn’t fair, but then when had life ever been fair, especially
to him?
 ...
Remus watched Harry stuff the last of his dinner into his mouth and lean across
the table to whisper something to his friends; crumbs fell down his chest as he
chewed messily. Hermione and Ron nodded and Harry got up from the table
hurriedly, all but running from the Great Hall. Remus smiled slightly to
himself; Harry was always extra jumpy on Thursday nights, eager for them to
begin their lessons. He took his time finishing his dinner, waiting until
everyone but Dumbledore had left the staff table, all of them off to their own
quarters for the night.
He gave a little wave in Albus’s general direction and was met only with a
knowing smile that made him a little nervous; made him feel fifteen again.
After all, how much does Albus really know? Remus honestly didn’t want to think
about that, or how much trouble he would be in if Albus really was as all-
knowing as he'd always appeared.
Shaking off the sudden feeling of unease, Remus headed out of the Great Hall
towards his quarters, which were situated just below Gryffindor Tower; one
floor down and two corridors over from the portrait hole and the Fat Lady. As
he rounded the corner, Harry came into view, propped up against the wooden door
presumably, given away by the toe of one shoe peeking out from under the
Invisibility Cloak. Remus chuckled and nudged Harry to the side as he murmured
the password into his rooms.
“You know, if you’re going to bother using that thing, you may as well use it
properly,” Remus said and stepped inside, holding the door open to let Harry
pass. 
Slipping the Cloak off over his head, Harry blushed, his hair sticking up with
static in every direction, but said nothing. His eyes sparkled with mischief
though, something Remus could never miss, not after all those years with Sirius
and James.
“I know, I’ll be more careful next time, I promise. I like this,” Harry
murmured, his eyes downcast. “I like that this is our little secret.”
Remus felt a little pull in his belly, not completely unlike the pull of a
Portkey; he did his best to ignore it. Smiling, he hung Harry’s cloak over the
back of the couch and strode into the small library, where they did their
practicing. Some nights Remus had Harry study books and read chapters on dark
spells and curses. They discussed what he had read afterwards, Harry asking any
questions he had, and Remus answering them to the best of his knowledge and
experience. Other nights they would practice the practical application of
charms and protection spells, and even a few curses when Harry was particularly
persuasive.
Harry plopped down on one of the plush armchairs that had been pushed back
against the bookcases, one of his legs slung over the arm. Forcing himself to
look away, Remus was astounded, as he always was, at how graceful Harry was for
his long limbs and wiry frame. His movements always seemed to have an innate
elegance; an elegance James certainly never had. Remus assumed he must have
inherited it from Lily. Remus found his eyes sliding back across Harry as his
thoughts wandered; across his pale skin and dark hair, across the furrow in his
brow that told you this boy had never been a child, had never been allowed to
be.
“What is it?”
Remus shook himself out of it and sat down in another armchair across the room
from him. “Sorry, Harry,” he said. “What is what?”
“You were staring at me; do I have something on my face?” Harry’s hands wiped
across his cheeks, nose and forehead, he looked concerned.
“Oh no, just thinking is all.”
“Oh,” Harry said simply, but looked as though he wanted to continue.
“Go ahead, Harry, what is it?”
“Am I--,” Harry cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. Remus waited patiently
and allowed his eyes to sweep over the boy in front of him once more, guilty as
it made him feel. “Do you think I’m ugly?”
Remus almost choked. “No! No, Harry, of course not!” A baser part of his body,
and mind unfortunately, wanted to show Harry just how very far from ugly he
thought him; he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Harry looked relieved but still apprehensive. “Are you sure?”
“Quite. I know people tell you this all the time, Harry, but you really do bear
an uncanny resemblance to your father, and he was always being chased around by
all the girls at Hogwarts!”
“Oh.” The boy looked a bit put out.
“What is it?”
Harry mumbled something Remus couldn’t catch. “Sorry, what was that?”
Harry turned bright red. “I’m not so sure I fancy girls.”
Remus’s heart slammed violently within his chest and he gripped the arms of his
chair, knuckles turning white. “There’s nothing wrong with that Harry, nothing
at all.” He spoke softly, his voice not daring to rise above a whisper.
“Yes there is, it just makes me even more of a freak.” He slumped back in his
chair.
Remus chuckled bitterly. “I know how you feel.”
Perking up a bit in his seat, Harry leaned forward and whispered to Remus
conspiratorially, “Y--you do?”
Oh fuck. This was the last thing Remus needed, the last thing.
“So that means you--,”
“Yes, Harry,” Remus interrupted. “It does.”
“Wow.” He leaned back in his chair again, his eyes wide in surprise. “I never
would have guessed.”
Remus ignored his comments, “But you’re young Harry, you can’t know what you
want yet. Your body is going through all sorts of changes. Just because you
might be attracted to a few of your male classmates doesn’t necessarily make
you gay. You’re just… you’re feeling a lot of different things at once and your
body doesn’t quite know what to do with it all.” He couldn’t believe he was the
one who was giving Harry this talk; surely Minerva would have been much better
suited. And she would be certain to have a much more appropriate reaction to
the situation. Remus crossed his legs nonchalantly and gave Harry a wan smile.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair and mumbled, “It’s not one of my
classmates.”
This took Remus quite by surprise but he was not about to push Harry for
details. “Perhaps it would be best if we skipped your lesson for tonight,”
Remus offered, hoping Harry would be just as glad as he was to leave the
suddenly stifling heat of his rooms. Why the hell was it so hot in here anyway?
Harry stood as though to leave and Remus heaved an inward sigh of relief.
Unfortunately Harry did not turn to leave, but crossed the room to where Remus
was sitting. “It’s not one of my classmates, Professor,” Harry whispered, gaze
burning into Remus’s as he looked down at him, so uncertain. Remus could see
the fear rushing back and forth behind his eyes.
Remus was pinned against the back of his chair, too frightened to move.
“Will you kiss me?” Harry’s voice broke, just a little, and with it broke any
last bit of resolve that Remus had been able to hold onto.
Grabbing Harry around the shoulders, he pulled him onto his lap and pressed
their lips together, ever so gently. The breaths they had both been holding in
spilled out between them and Remus was instantly addicted to the warm sweetness
that Harry smelled of, tasted of. He slid his fingertips up along Harry’s
throat, across the soft, warm skin there, and felt Harry shiver against him.
His skin was on fire, Harry’s skin against his making him squirm and twitch
with need, with all of the desire he had kept hidden away, contained. Harry
shifted so that he sat on Remus’s lap, facing him; the unmistakable tremble of
his hips sent shudders of pleasure down through Remus’s groin, made him moan,
pushing Harry’s lips open further so that he could dip inside, suck Harry's
tongue.
Harry began rocking back and forth with fervor, his hips beginning to push
frantically against Remus’s. Remus allowed himself to release Harry’s mouth and
move down his neck, pausing to suck long and hard at his collar bone, marring
the perfect pale flesh there with a ruby-bright bruise.
“Please, oh Professor, mmn, yes…” Harry’s voice came out in a long hiss and
part of Remus shivered at the sound of such pleasure escaping such a young
mouth; Harry’s mouth. Remus laved his tongue in long strokes against his neck
and as he pressed one chaste kiss to the top of the mark, he felt Harry
convulse atop him, warmth seeping through the both of their robes, hot and
sticky against Remus’s stomach.
Harry made a tiny mewling noise and collapsed against Remus, shifting against
his erection in the process. A bolt of pleasure shot down through Remus’s cock
and along with it, a sense of guilt such that he had never felt before.
James. Lily. Sirius even, for fuck’s sake! He had just betrayed them all, the
only people in the world who had ever mattered to him, who had ever been there
for him. Disgust swept over him and, pushing Harry away gently, he made to
stand. 
“What? What is it?” Harry sank into the chair as Remus stood, his eyes once
again full of fear and unease. “Did I do something wrong?”
Remus turned away from him, burying his face in his hands. “No,” he mumbled
through his fingers, his shoulders heaving with anxious breath, “I did.”
“Oh--oh, I won’t tell anyone, I promise!” Remus wanted to cry as Harry’s
innocence shone through. It was all so simple to him. Never mind that he had
been one of Harry’s parent’s best friends, Remus’s job was to watch over him,
not take advantage of him. He felt a small hand on his back and turned, only to
be confronted with Lily’s eyes and James’s face and the child that held every
drop of his perverted desires. How could you let this happen? You were doing
just fine, why did you have to let your guard down, you idiot?
“I want to touch you, Professor.” Harry’s voice was soft; his eyes hazy, yet
bright with pleasure, wonder. “Let me touch you, please?”
Remus’s hands shook as he dropped his hand slowly to the mess of hair atop
Harry’s head, his fingers quickly becoming lost in its tangles. You have
nothing left. You should take what is being so genuinely offered to you…
“Harry we mustn’t. What we have already done is beyond wrong. You--you need to
go. Go back to Gryffindor Tower.”
The look on Harry’s face, Remus would later determine, was what did him in
completely. The look of utter rejection and embarrassment; the look that said
he would like nothing more than to sink into the floor and never be seen again.
Harry had given himself to him, and Remus had refused him. He remembered what
that felt like. Remembered being sixteen years old and telling your best friend
you were in love with him; remembered having that best friend look at you as if
you were disgusting and crazy and get away from me I’m not a bloody poofter,
Moony!Things had never been the same between him and James.
You’ve never had anyone of your own. He slid his fingers down across the baby
soft skin of Harry’s temples and onto the cheek bones that protruded too much.
How were those Muggles treating him, anyway? He looked so like James, but more,
somehow, like Lily. More than the eyes. There was something fierce hiding
behind all of the nervousness and apprehension; a spark that had always drawn
Remus to her, made him sit and listen to her talk, if only because she was so
passionate about everything.
James’s face. Lily’s eyes. Harry. This was Harry. He hadn’t been able to get it
right with either of them. But maybe he could get it right with Harry.
Harry glanced up at him as his fingers stroked lightly against the planes of
his cheeks, his eyes filled with trepidation and hope. “Professor?”
“Harry-- I think it might be best if…” Harry’s eyes fell yet again, “you call
me Remus.”
A brief smile flashed across Harry’s face, followed by a shot of lust, clouding
his eyes and turning them dark with desire. That look. It had been so very long
since he had seen that look. Remus’s pulse sped through his veins considerably
faster.
“Can--can we go in your room, Remus?” Harry tried to hide a sly smile as his
mouth wrapped around this new name and looked around the room, apparently
hoping for something a bit more comfortable.
Remus nodded silently and strode down the short corridor, turning into the
second door on the right. Harry followed and perched delicately on the edge of
the bed; Remus remained in the doorway, not sure if he should enter, or flee
immediately and Floo Dumbledore from someplace safe.
Harry appeared to have already made the decision for him.
He rose from the bed and padded across the room to Remus. “Kiss me again.”
Harry’s voice was stronger now, as though he knew he had caught his prey and
the rest was up to him. “I liked it when you kissed me.” A small growl escaped
Remus’s throat and his hands caught again in Harry’s hair to pull him closer to
his mouth. Harry did his best to meet him halfway and with Remus bent at the
waist and Harry on his tiptoes their mouths met. Hot and sweet and urgent and
the best sort of wrong.
Gently tugging on his robes, Harry pulled Remus across the room to his bed and
sank down upon it, pulling Remus on top of him. He stretched his neck back,
inviting Remus to attack it with brutal force; far more than he had dared in
the sitting room. Harry moaned and twisted beneath him as Remus allowed his
teeth, just the tiniest bit sharper this close to the moon, sink gently into
the velvety skin of Harry’s throat. He could feel the blood pumping against his
them, could taste it on his tongue, but he pulled away and licked his way down
Harry’s neck before the temptation to pierce the skin and truly taste the boy
became too much for him.
Harry was already hard again, pushing insistently against Remus’s hip. “Shh,
calm down Harry, all in due time,” he murmured, his voice soothing and fluid as
it ghosted across the wet and abused skin of Harry’s golden-pale throat. Harry
nodded absently, his fingers caught in the fabric of Remus’s robes, and forced
himself to slow the movements of his hips.
“There’s a good lad.” He nipped gently at Harry’s ear lobe, pulling it into his
mouth and sucking tenderly. “Want to taste you, Harry, will you let me taste
you?”
Harry’s hips jerked against Remus’s stomach and he whimpered. “Please.”
Pulling back just a bit, Remus yanked Harry’s outer robe off with one hand and
made fast work of the t-shirt and jeans he wore beneath. The garments were far
too big for him; they hung off his body, the trousers held up only because of a
belt cinched tightly around his waist. A flash of fury rose inside him; the
Muggles. He would deal with them later. Determined not to let them ruin this as
well, he pushed them out of his mind, concentrating on pulling Harry’s clothes
from his shaking limbs. Golden, yet pale and sun-bright, he was the most
beautiful thing Remus had ever seen. A fine dusting of black hair trailed down
away from his navel and disappeared into his underpants, against which his
erection was pushing, straining to find relief. 
Dragging the y-fronts down Harry’s thighs, he couldn’t help but lean forward
and inhale deeply of Harry’s scent. He could smell Quidditch and sunshine and
lust and everything that reminded Remus of being a teenager. Before he could
stop himself he opened his mouth and sank down around Harry’s hard prick,
swallowing around it easily. Harry bucked madly and twined his fingers through
Remus’s hair as though holding on for dear life. Remus could feel Harry
jerking, so so close, and pulled away, looking down at the beautiful picture
Harry created. He licked his lips, tasting Harry on them. Bitter and sweet and
sweat and good.
“Turn over for me Harry… want to taste you everywhere.” The anxiety Harry must
have felt shone through in his eyes, but he did his best to cover it up and
turned obediently over onto his stomach. His lovely arse, round and even paler
compared to the rest of his body, rose gently in the air, begging Remus to
despoil it a million different ways. “Such a good boy, Harry. Such a good boy.”
Remus ran his hands down across the muscles that fluttered over Harry’s back,
tracing his slim sides and sharp shoulder blades. Planting a kiss at the base
of Harry’s spine, he moved downward and brushed his lips against the sweaty
crack of Harry’s young arse. Harry started, his legs kicking slightly against
the bed, but stayed where he was and pushed his hips into the sheets.
“You liked it when I kissed you, Harry?” Remus asked. Harry nodded desperately,
his forehead sweaty and pressed against the mattress. Remus eased Harry’s
cheeks apart with his thumbs, baring his puckered entrance to the now
shimmering heat of the room, and pressed his nose to Harry’s skin, inhaling
deeply. He gasped for breath as a rush of arousal came over him and Harry
squirmed deliciously beneath him.
He lay still for a moment, relishing the cloud of pleasure that was settling
over the both of them, before lowering his head to lick a long, slow swath
along the skin just behind Harry’s balls and up across his hole until he
reached the top of the hot crevice.
Harry moaned loudly and pushed his arse back against Remus’s face, whilst
simultaneously trying to slam his hips into the bed. Remus would have laughed
if the image of it all hadn’t sent a pool of heat directly to his groin. He
groaned against Harry’s skin and slid his tongue over the slick little hole,
sucking eagerly, wanting the sounds that were escaping Harry’s lovely mouth
never to stop. His tongue delved in, shallow at first and then deeper as it
forced the ring of muscle to stretch and open up for him. The smell and taste
of Harry was almost too much for him. It was everywhere, choking him,
suffocating him with pleasure until he felt as though his eyes would roll back
into his head and he would come right then and there, fully clothed and
untouched. Pulling Harry’s cheeks apart even further, he shoved his tongue deep
inside of him one last time and grazed his teeth gently across his tight, pink
hole. Harry shuddered against him and thrust a hand down to pull at his cock.
Rolling Harry over onto his back, Remus pushed his hand away and whispered,
“Not yet, Harry. Not yet…”
Harry whimpered, but kept his hand pressed against his stomach, its muscles
shaking beneath his fingertips.
Remus rose from his place on the bed and crossed the room to his nightstand. He
returned with a bottle of oil that smelled richly of almonds and faintly of
ripe summer cherries. Climbing back onto the bed, he settled himself between
Harry’s legs that were splayed and shivering just the tiniest bit.
“You know what this is for, Harry.” It was a statement, not a question.
Harry remained silent, only nodding, and slid his feet up across Remus’s thighs
and hips, playing along the ribs that were too noticeable, like the rest of his
bones. Remus had to shut his eyes to the picture of utter submission Harry was
presenting and fumble blindly with the bottle in his hands. It was suddenly
plucked from him and Remus opened his eyes. Harry opened the lid easily and
handed it back to Remus with a shy smile on his face. This is a dream. Remus,
wake up, this is another one of your dreams. Wake up before you have to send
the House Elves off with yet another set of sticky sheets.
Harry lay his head back against the pillows and parted his legs further,
inviting Remus in. This wasn’t a dream. Or if it was, Remus wasn’t waking up.
He was half tempted to pinch himself.
The oil spilled across Remus’s hand as he coated his fingers and capped it,
setting it unsteadily on the bed beside Harry’s waist. Dragging one oil-slick
finger down the length of Harry’s erection, hard and eager against his belly,
he continued down across his balls until he reached his prize. He pushed
against Harry’s hole, still wet with Remus’s own saliva, and let the tip of his
middle finger slide in to the first knuckle. Harry grunted and pushed himself
down on it until it slid in to the second knuckle. He was so warm, so tight,
pulsing with heat against Remus’s finger. He slid his finger gently out before
pushing it back in, fucking Harry slowly with it, letting him grow accustomed
to the feeling.
After a few moments, Remus added his index finger and watched Harry’s face for
signs of pain. He cringed a bit at first, shifting uncomfortably on the bed,
but then Remus crooked his fingers and brushed firmly across his prostate.
Harry’s back arched up off of the bed.
“Fuck!”
Remus barely hid a smile.
“That is the idea, Harry.”
He pushed inside smoothly a bit more, until he was sure Harry would be able to
take him, before withdrawing fingers that burned with Harry’s heat. He stood
and yanked his robes off over his shoulders; unbuckling his trousers in a
hurry, he pushed them down to pool at his feet. Harry whimpered at the loss of
contact, but soon quieted as Remus kneeled back on the bed and pulled each of
Harry’s legs up, slinging them, limp and sweaty, over his shoulders.
Grabbing the bottle from where it lay beside Harry, he uncapped it and slicked
his cock thoroughly. Harry’s hands rose and stroked shyly at the skin of
Remus’s stomach, mapping the silver scars that traced across him, and just into
the hair that trailed away from his belly. He looked so small there, lying
below Remus; so small and young and beautiful that Remus almost had to look
away.  
Remus pushed gently against him, both his cock and Harry’s hole slick and
smooth. Harry gazed into his eyes, bright green meeting dark gold, and grabbed
Remus roughly around the waist, slamming them together and forcing Remus’s cock
to slide deep inside of him until he was buried to the hilt. Harry’s eyes were
shut tight, whether in pain or pleasure Remus didn’t know. Remus fought not to
collapse against Harry and moved his hips slightly, slipping out of him just
enough to thrust back in. Fireworks refused to stop exploding behind his eyes.
He wasn’t going to make it; there was no way he was going to be able to last.
Harry was too hot, too tight, too beautiful, too vulnerable as he lay pliant
beneath him, his young chest - so small compared to Remus’s and free of the
scars that marred his own flesh - rose and fell with erratic breaths.
He thrust slowly, deeply, into Harry’s tight channel; his senses blending
together in a kaleidoscope of touch and heat and smell and taste until he
couldn’t see straight; until up was down and down was up and he felt like he
could smell the colors around him and taste every moan that slipped past
Harry’s lips. He planted his knees firmly into the mattress and pressed his
palms into the sheets, pumping into Harry as hard as he dared and grunting loud
and low. Harry reached his hand down toward his erection again and this time
Remus did not push it away. Harry’s eyes burned with need, the green becoming
nothing more than a thin ring around the dilation of his black, black pupils as
he fisted his cock in rhythm with Remus’s thrusts, deep and hard into his body.
Harry’s back arched sharply; his neck bared, pulse pounding along his throat,
and he came hard, moaning and hissing and muttering nonsense into the heated
air around their bodies. The sight of Harry’s pleasure was more than Remus
could handle and he leaned down to suck urgently at Harry’s heated flesh,
searching out that trembling pulse. His lips found it and he sank his teeth in
just shy of breaking the skin, part of him damning and embracing the wolf all
at once. His body shook as he spilled quick and hot and desperate into the hot
clutch of Harry’s body, into this boy that he had been left to look after. The
fire swept through his veins until he could no longer hold himself up and he
collapsed heavily to the side of Harry, burying his head in the sheets. His
sheets; sheets that were sweaty and reeked of sex and still held a boy that he
had just ruined, destroyed, fucked.
Remus could feel the guilt for what he'd just done hovering around him,
threatening to spill over at any moment and drown him, devastate him. And it
would have, Remus was sure of it, if Harry hadn’t suddenly curled into his
side, tucking his head into the crook of Remus’s arm. “I love you,” Harry
whispered quietly, his voice already drowsy with pleasure and satiety. And part
of Remus knew that he meant it, and that perhaps Harry was not broken and
ruined.
“I love you, Harry. I’ve loved you your whole life.”
“I know,” Harry murmured, half asleep already.
Remus pulled Harry closer and curled into him, his nose resting in Harry’s mess
of hair, close and warm and there as James had never been.
Sleep pulled insistently at his mind and he closed his eyes as he inhaled
Harry’s distinctive smell, a bittersweet mixture of childhood and adolescence.
Harry was beginning to grow up.
Forgive me Lily. Lily was the only one whose forgiveness mattered anymore. I’ll
take care of him, I promise. And he would.
He would.
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