• 1-Research and Development Part I; Hunger
• 2-Research and Development Part II; Research
• 3-Development
• 4-A Werewolf Mates for Life
• 5-Testing
• 6-The Dominant Partner
• 7-Research and Development Part VII: On the Road Again
• 8-Research and Development, Part VIII: The Not So Submissive Partner

TITLE: Research and Development Part III; Development

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

EMAIL: foppagal@yahoo.com

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: R—if you want the NC17 version, check on Adult Fan Fiction
.net, the direct link (which may or may not show up here) is http:// adultfan.nexcess
. net/aff/authors.php?no=20461.

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free 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? The werewolf plot device takes affect.

CATEGORY: (Drama / First Time / Humor / Hurt-Comfort / Romance)

BETA: ShadowPhoenix

NOTES: The glorious ShadowPhoenix helped me terrifically with this
chapter, in part just by being my beta, but also in part through her unwavering
support and encouragement. I took out the bit about the booze, btw. She also
contributed two lines to this chapter, I’ll make note of which at the end, so
as not to spoil anything for the average reader.

DEDICATIONS: This chapter is dedicated to ShadowPhoenix, for all
her monumental assistance and friendship, which has already enriched my life so
much.

Also, this chapter is dedicated to all the fine storytellers
who’ve made use of the ‘werewolf plot device,’ or the ‘werewolf mates for life’
routine. It’s brilliant, and you’re brilliant, and I’ve spent many entertaining
hours watching Remus be irrevocably attached to one character or another, which
is an excellent use of my time. If I’ve ripped anyone off, I humbly apologize;
this was meant to be a tribute/parody, and I wanted to use everything I could
find on werewolf mating. I tried to make everything pretty original, but it’s
always hard to tell. At the very least, I would not hesitate to make a small
list of authors here whose works inspired this, if any feels like he or she
(who are we kidding? Just she) ought to get some credit.

Part 3: Development

When
someone finally took the spell off of Remus Lupin, it was already after
nightfall. He and Harry had been snatched away by Death Eaters, taken
God-only-knew where, and dragged down into what seemed to be the bowels of the
earth. They were unceremoniously dumped in a small, dank room, and left there,
just as they were, for ho

Lupin could
just make out Harry’s form, lying where it had fallen. Remus, himself, could
not move for the curse was holding him perfectly motionless, except for his
eyes…which he tried to keep from trailing towards the boy too often. Was Harry
even alive? He knew what spell he’d been hit with, but he wasn’t certain what
had felled the younger wizard. Oh, God, please let him be alive, he
begged, in the echoing silence of his head. Please, please don’t take him,
too.

Eventually, a heavy Death Eater came
through the door, set a tray on the floor, and aimed a countercurse at Rem
The
Then, to the werewolf’s inexpressible relief, he aimed one at Harry, as well.
Remus stayed carefully still and the Death Eater backed out into the corridor
and snicked the lock on the door, sniggering softly.

Once the
man was gone, Remus managed to gain his hands and knees and make his way to the
youth’s sprawled body. Harry’s eyes were still shut, but he was breathing.
Remus whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around the slender frame, cradling
Harry’s head in his lap. He looked around the cell—he supposed it was a cell of
sorts—and took inventory. There was a stark light in the ceiling, a small
bathroom off to the side, and a cot. That was it, except for Harry and Remus
and what they’d come in with. And that amounted tot tot to nothing; a book on
werewolves, which had been tossed in amongst loud laughter, a vial of oil that
was the base of many potions, their robes and clothing…and that was all. Their
wands had been taken, of course.

Remus
gently brushed his hand over Harry’s cheek. The Order would have realized
within moments that something had gone wrong, so they should be looking for
them. He hoped they’d be able to locate them soon. If not…he didn’t like to
follow the thought to its only logical conclusion. “Harry?” he murmured softly,
patting the boy’s shoulder. “Harry, can you hear me?” Harry groaned a little,
but did not wake. Remus didn’t want to force him up; what would be the point?
So Harry could feel frightened as well? He was happy as he was. Remus wouldn’t
purposely change the status quo—not yet, at any rate.

He found
himself watching the youth as he slept. His eyes traced the scar on the forehead,
the curve of Harry’s nose, those elegant, innocent brows. Such a gamine the boy
was. Treading close to the line, Remus allowed himself to run his fingertip
along Harry’s high cheekbones, and dark lashes fluttered just a little, before
becoming settled into sleep again. Too close. Remus stared at Harry’s much
abused bottom lip again, feeling the warmth in his lap. Far too close.
Panting a little, he moved the cloak so he could bundle it up a bit and move it
under Harry’s head.

He
carefully rose with the youth in his arms, and placed Harry on the cot. Then he
sat on the floor, scooted as far away as possible, and took up the werewolf
book to distract himself.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long at all before he found the same picture
that had caught Harry’s attention, and he stared at it in exasperation. This
wasn’t distracting at all! Well, it is—so long as you meant it was
distracting from the overall ‘we’re probably going to die’ problem, he
cedeceded to himself. But it certainly didn’t help anything else. Maybe if he
ignored the pictures and focused on the words. Yes, that’s it. Words were
wonderful, and Remus had learned at a young age that reading could solve pretty
much anything. He’d just lose himself in the book, that’s all.

A werewolf must claim its mate through a
series of actions, each of which is crucial to forming the unbreakable bond.
One act which must be completed is the mark, which must be made in human form
(to prevent spreading the lycanthropy), and is done by biting the flesh of the
chosen mate hard enough to break skin. Well, so far, so good. No pictures
on this page, at least. Remus skimmed along a little further. The werewolf
and its mate must engage in sexual intercourse. Um. Not so good. His eyes
strayed to the sleeping form, which had, at some point during the last several
minutes, cast off both its own and Lupin’s cloaks, and was arrayed in a very
alluring pose, with one leg hanging provocatively off the cot. Remus swallowed
hard, forcing his eyes back to the book. Only taking a word in here and there,
he made it to the bottom of the page. …shared bodily fluid completes the
bond… conscientious of the fact…lycanthropy is only contagious while a werewolf
is in its lupine form…substantive amounts of saliva, blood, and semen must be
shared…occasionally the fluid is ingested, resulting in…Remus let out a
whimper, shifting his position on the floor. He quickly flipped the page. Good
grief! This isn’t helpful at all!
What kind of self-respecting supposedly educational book contained
illustrations like that? And why in the world did they have to choose
the bit about semen to illustrate? He adjusted his robes slightly, wishing he
were dead. Why was God punishing him like this? What on earth had he done to
merit being locked in a room with an unconscious beauty like Harry with nothing
but a pocket of oil and a book of porn?

Harry’s
eyes fluttered open. There was a bright light overhead, but he felt chilled and
damp. A thwacking sound came from his left, and he turned his head a bit.
“Professor Lupin? Why are you hitting yourself in the head with my book?” he
asked, bewildered.

Whimpering
more loudly now, the whimper threatening to turn into a moan of despair, Remus
smacked the heavy book into his forehead a couple more times, hoping to knock
some sense back into himself. Finally, he lowered the volume and peered
guiltily over it. “I’m sorry, Harry.” The boy could take that any way he
wished; it was the perfect truth in any case.

Harry sat
ulinklinking a little. “Where are we?”

Remus
shrugged dispiritedly. “I’ve really no idea.”

Harry began
to get nervous. Remus was always the calm one, the rational one. If he was
upset, then they must be in an awful lot of trouble. Why did it have to be
Remus? If they hadn’t wanted Harry, Remus wouldn’t be here. If something
happened to Remus, it would be all Harry’s fault. “It was Death Eaters, wasn’t
it?” he whispered. “They caught us.”

Remus
nodded, then looked up to see the blank fear on the boy’s face. God, his eyes
seemed so old when he looked like that. No one that age should ever have such a
look of resigned terror. No one that age should have eyes filled with things
they shouldn’t have even known, and contain the perfect awareness that they
could not un-know them. He found himself beside Harry, arms wrapped around the
youth, before he even realized what he was doing. “It’s all right,” he
muttered, needing urgently to reassure the young Gryffindor. “I won’t let anything
hurt you.” He hated himself. He was fully aware he was making promises he
couldn’t keep, that he was being rash and emoti. Th. That had always been
Sirius’s role, not Remus’s.

Harry let
out a long, shaky breath against Remus’s chest, steadying himself. The terror
and guilt began to abate, as he breathed in the masculine, musky scent of his
tutor. Instinctively, Harry moved closer, burrowing his face into Remus’s
chest. He could feel scratchy hair beneath the thin shirt, and he shuddered with
sudden arousal.

Remus, who
read this movement as fear, roughly held the boy tighter. “Nothing will hurt
you, I promise,” he repeated. “I’m here, Harry. We’ll be all right. Professor
Dumbledore and the others already know we’re gone. They’re out looking for us
right now. They’ll find us.” He felt warm breath through his shirt, and the
blood begin rushing through his body, heating him from ears to fingertips. Oh,
God. It shouldn’t feel this good to hold somebody. Particularly when that
somebody is the child of a long dead childhood friend. He felt Harry’s arms
creep shyly around his waist, looking for acceptance. Shutting his eyes, Remus
cut off his tortured thoughts, determined to simply be, without
agonizing. He ran his hands lightly up and down Harry’s back, even going so far
as to smooth down that scruffy head of hair. “It’s all right, Green Eyes,”
Remus crooned quietly.

Harry had
gone from Hell to Heaven in a matter of moments. Remus was touching him. Remus
was holding him. He didn’t care if Remus meant it like a parent or a
lover or a friend, because nobody had ever held him like that before.
Harry could never remember anyone making him feel this way—like he was needed,
and wanted, and loved. And safe. God, the only person he’d ever felt this safe
with was a werewolf. He wondered what that said about his common sense.

For a long,
long time, they stayed that way; they leaned into one another and reveled in
each other’s arms. Harry was calmed by the steady thud of Lupin’s heart, and
Lupin was touched by Harry’s innocent faith in him.

After
sitting that way so long that his back began to cramp, Harry reluctantly pulled
away. Lupin dropped his hands to his sides at once. Harry tried to ignore the
churning regret in his stomach, pointing at the tray on the floor. “What’s
that?” he asked.

“I’d be
willing to bet it’s food of some kind,” Remus told him, “but I have extreme
doubts as to whether it’s safe to eat.”

Harry
sighed. “So…what do we do?”

How
about getting a shag in before they kill us? Remus’s over-stimulated brain
suggested hopefully. He winced, smothering the thought. He had to get control
of himself. Remus glanced around the room. There was a small window, high up
near the ceiling, but it had a thick bar right across it and he knew neither
one of them would fit through it. He jiggled the door a bit, but of course it
didn’t give at all. He and Harry explored the room carefully, looking for
anything that might give them an edge. They were severely disappointed. “I’m
sorry, Harry,” he said once again. “Give me a bit of time to think it over,
would you?” He wanted to at least give the impression that he’d be able to come
up with a clever scheme.

“All
right,” Harry said agreeably. “I’ll just…sit for a bit and read. I’ll give you
some quiet, and it’ll take my mind off of things. Okay?”

“Sure,
Harry.”

Unfortunately, watching those wide, luminous eyes trail over the pages,
while that sweet little mouth moved to form the words, and the wet tip of a
tongue intermittently peeked out, as Harry concentrated…was not conducive to
thinking productive thoughts. After a while, Remus shut his eyes, hoping that
by blocking out the sight, he’d erase the attraction. Of course, that didn’t
help, either, as it enabled him to picture what he’d like to see so much
more clearly…

Harry,
meanwhile, was alternating between the absolutely enthralling book, and the
absolutely appetizing-looking Remus Lupin. The man had apparently given Harry
his robe at some point, and Harry was astounded (and gratified) to see the man
was wearing a very faded, threadbare pare of jeans. This was one item of
clothing that Lupin could wear out completely, and—in Harry’s eyes—it would only
improve. And the dark shirt made the silver in Remus’s hair seem far more sexy
and stylish and almost…intentional. Harry hid a grin, forcing his eyes back
down on the book. Stop looking at what you’re never going to have, he
chided himself. The poor guy is tired, and instead of helping, you’re
undressing him with your eyes! Actually, he hadn’t been, but his conscience
had a point, there. He sneaked another glance from under his lashes, watching
the man shut his eyes and lean his head back against the wall. First, off
with the shirt…he thought impishly, before stifling his impulses. Book!
Book, Harry, book! You remember those, don’t you? Why did his conscience
sound so god-awfully like Hermione? He gritted his teeth, torn between
aggravation with himself for wanting to continue to ogle the man, and
aggravation with himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity to do so. Book?
Ah, yes. It’s that great square thing currently hiding my erection. He
shook his head roughly. STOP THAT!

Firmly, he
focused on the words in front of him. A werewolf mates for life. It cannot
change its mind. Once a werewolf has mated, a powerful drive will impel it to
stay near its partner. A werewolf’s bond to his or her mate can only be broken
by death. Oftentimes if the human partner should die before the werewolf, the
werewolf will pine away and die…Harry frowned at this. How incredibly sad.
But still somehow very sexy. He risked another look at Lupin. What a handsome
creature he was. The human maill ill also find it craves the company of its
werewolf partner, and the two will find it difficult to be apart for
significant lengths of time. The couple often finds the urge to be near one
another especially strong in the beginning, when the bond is still developing. It
is during this fundamental formative stage that the two must find their place
in the bond, and learn to work within its boundaries.

Harry heard
Remus give a sigh of frustration, and realized the man was locked in his head
with his own thoughts, and likely irritated aboot tot thinking of a way out.
Harry frowned. Remus wasn’t getting anywhere. Well, it wasn’t Remus’s fault.
Perhaps if Harry distracted him for a little while, his mind would stop going
in circles.

“It says
here that a werewolf won’t hurt his chosen mate, because he views the mate as
‘pack,’ and the instinct to preserve the pack is stronger than the instinct to
destroy,” Harry read aloud. “Isn’t that interesting? You said you didn’t know
anything abohat—hat—er—werewolves mating for life and all. Or it wasn’t true or
something. What was it you said?”

Remus
smiled a little. Harry was so obvious, but it was sweet, really. Always trying
to take care of the people around him. He should have known the boy would come to
life if Remus showed the slightest sign he might be wallowing in despair. “I
don’t know if that particular part is true,” he informed the boy. “You get
different opinions from different people. I haven’t actually met more than a
handful of werewolves and for obvious reasons we aren’t really social
creatures, so few would be inclined to seek a mate, even if that option were
open to them. I spoke with one couple in Greece several years ago, who swore
that it was true; that they had mated young and every word Ignobal wrote on the
subject was gospel. On the other hand, a friend in Mayfield told me that it
was…falsehood, and that although he ‘followed the instructions,’ nothing ever
happened. I’m inclined to believe it’s a rather outlandish tale of entertainment,
myself.”

“You don’t
believe it’s real, then?” Harry said sounding disappointed even to himself.

“It does
make for a good story, doesn’t it?” Remus grinned at him. “And I’m not saying I
don’t believe, just that…well; let’s just say I’d prefer to withhold judgment
until I’m in possession of all the facts, or at least have seen some evidence
one way or the other.”

“Huh.”
Harry shrugged and glanced back down at the book. In its own special way, it
was almost as engaging as Lupin. “It sure is detailed, if it’s completely
untrue. Listen to this; ‘The werewolf is nearly always the dominant partner
in the pair, no matter how shy or reticent they may seem to the outside world.’”
Harry couldn’t resist a rascally smile in Remus’s direction. “I wonder if
they’re like, the opposite of how they usually are, then. You know; like
however shy they are is equal to how dominant they are?”

Remus
looked up sharply, surprised at Harry’s boldness. “Inversely proportionate?” he
supplied, his mouth working on automatic.

“Yeah,
that. If that were the case, you’d have to be pretty dominant, then, wouldn’t
you?” he asked teasingly, those green eyes alight with impudence. “I mean;
you’d be a real monster in the bedroom, wouldn’t you?” Harry was half shocked
at the words coming out of his own mouth, but he couldn’t stop, and didn’t
really want to. He was locked in a tiny room with one of the hottest men he’d
ever met, and he was feeling acutely sexually frustrated. In rese, se, he was
lashing out and seeing what buttons of Lupin’s could be pushed, and how far he
could push the man.

Lupin, for
his part, was staring directly at his feet, fighting frantically against the
heat creeping up his cheeks. He could not believe Harry, sometimes. If the boy
only knew what Lupin wanted, he’d never have said such foolish things. Dominant
one. Ha. Yes, I’m the epitome of dominance; I can’t even loim iim in the eye!

Harry saw
the man blushing and was mesmerized. He really IS shy. I should probably
stop teasing him; its obvious he doesn’t like it. “Sorry,” he muttered,
feeling a little ashamed.

Remus took
a deep breath. Don’t alienate him by acting all prudish, he insted
ted
himself. But for God’s sake, Lupin, do NOT let him see you’re turned on!
“It’s quite all right, Harry,” he told the boy gently. “I’m not going to get
angry with you for teasing me. You seem to apologize to me rather frequently
these days, and it really isn’t necessary. I don’t know why you’d think I’d be
upset with you, or what you think I’d do if I was, but I can assure you that
it’s probably nothing that awful. And the only time I’ve ever been angry with
you was the time you put yourself in danger for no reason. Even then, I didn’t
feel anger so much as…well, fear that something would happen to you. So you
needn’t be afraid of me. Do you understand?”

Harry
swallowed hard and nodded. “I know you wouldn’t…you usually don’t…you’re not an
angry sort of person,” he tried to explain, but had difficulty finding the
words. It was so complicated. It’s just that I killed Sirius and you were
Sirius’s best friend and my mum and dad died because of me and THEY were your
friends, and it seems like I’ve done nothing but hurt you since the day I was born,
even if it wasn’t intentional…plus, I’m developing a huge crush on you, and on
top of all that I’d like to prove to all of you that I’m not a child anymore,
and I deserve to be taken into confidence and…It just went on and on. And
most of it was stuff he’d never be able to say. Finally he settled on, “When
Sirius died…” his voice caught, and it took him a moment to go on. “I didn’t. I
never—I…I never had much time with him. But I still liked him a lot. He was
like a dad to me. Or older brother, or maybe a real uncle or something. He was
like family. And I. Never really told him anything about that. I never told him
I’d miss him if something happened, I n sai said I loved him—”

&nbs[end[endif]>

“He knew
all the same, Harry,” Lupin assured him, coming to kneel next to the cot. “And
he loved you as well—you were the son he never had—the thing that made it worth
everything he’d been through. He was wildly proud of you, Harry.” It hurt to
think of Sirius—hurt still. God, what would Sirius have thought of this—Remus’s
indecent lust for his godson?

“Yeah,”
Harry was saying softly. “But I was being such a prick all the time. I was so
mad and I kept snapping at everybody, and when he told me to go back to Snape
and ask him to restart my Occlumency lessons, I didn’t. I didn’t and—” Harry
broke off in a choking voice, and Remus got up on the cot put an arm around his
shoulders.

“None of
that matters, and none of it ever did. Things happen the way they happen.
That’s just the way it is. Harry, Sirius knew you cared about him. He
understood—more than understood—your difficulties with Professor Snape. And he
was well aware that mood swingd ged generalized anger are a pretty typical
state for a teenaged boy. He was fifteen himself once, you know.” Remus
anxiously rubbed Harry’s back, wishing there were someone better at this sort
of thing around. After all, Remus, himself, had never been fifteen. Not
mentally. Oh, sure; when the boys were around, getting into trouble, he
sometimes got swept up in it, but…on the whole, he’d felt too much pain, seen
too much, been too different to ever feel like a normal teenaged boy. He
supposed Harry was much the same, now that he came to think about it.

Harry was
chewing his lower lip again. “I guess one of the reasons I don’t…that I…try not
to make you mad at me…try not to get into arguments with you…is that any time
at all, it could all end, and—and. I don’t want my last words to you to be
something I said while I was mad,” he admitted to his hands, which were folded
in his lap.

“Oh,
Harry,” Remus murmured, leaning over and resting his chin on the youth’s head.
“You needn’t worry over that. People fight, sometimes. People say stupid
things. That doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other, or think the other
person doesn’t care about them.” He pulled back to look at Harry’s face. In his
own way, though, Remus knew what Harry was talking about. He’d spent most of
his school years too frightened of losing James and Sirius to ever stand up to
them, ever argue with them, even when they really needed or deserved it. When
you came right down to it, Remus had never been the brave one or the bold one.
And in the end, it was usually up to James to be the strong one. Lupin sighed
mentally, bringing himself back to the present. “I know you care about me, and
I hope you realize that I care about you. That isn’t going to change, even if
we have an argument about something.” Remus became aware that he was being
studied intently, and looked down to see intense emerald eyes blazing into his
own.

“I…”
Harry’s voice trailed off. Remus cared about him. He knew the man cared about
him—at least, he knew on some rational level, but…he’d never expected to hear
him say it. Remus had never been very demonstrative. Remus was the soul of
restraint. Remus was, in fact, entirely too British for his own good. Harry
smiled crookedly at this thought. “I do care about you. I care about you a
lot.” Harry felt his cheeks turn pink, and knew Remus had noticed by the way his
eyes strayed down the boy’s face. It had felt good to say, but Harry suddenly
found himself shy. “Do you…really care about me?” he asked, breathless and
blinking a little, only half-aware that what he was doing was flirting with a
werewolf. He wasn’t actually even thinking anymore—his brain had shorted out
from an overflow of affection and desire, and all he had left to work with was
instinct.

Remus
watched those pretty eyes fluttering at him, the cheeks flushed, and even
Harry’s posture—knees locked together, heels turned out, shoulders moving
smoothly from side to side as the boy squirmed a little—it all seemed to be
arranged in a particular way. It conveyed innocence—oh, yes, there was that—but
also an inordinate amount of…seduction, as well. Remus noted wildlyt
ot
one of Harry’s hands was delicately creeping up to rub the boy’s chest in an
unmistakable gesture of arousal. Dear God! The boy had no iwhatwhat he was
doing! Calm down, Remus, he told himself. He probably doesn’t even
realize he’s doing it. But why was he doing it? The youth was
unconsciously flirting with Remus. Did that mean he was attracted to
Remus on some level? Of course not—don’t be silly. He’s doing this because
he’s a teenaged boy with hormones ierdrerdrive, and you happen to be the only
one in the room. It took all of Remus’s long-practiced composure not to
yank his hands away from the boy—whose body was hotter than a moment before,
very hot—Yes, I could swear his body temperature’s gone up, he’s nearly
scorching my hands, Remus thought frenetically. At the same time, it took
all of Remus’s self-restraint not to shove the boy down on the bed—or floor—or
against the wall, it hardly mattered—and rip his clothing from him and run his
hands all over that porcelain skin and taste him and feel him and ride him—

The man
became aware that Harry was looking at him expectantly, and remembered that
Harry had asked him a question. He groped back in his memory, but could find
nothing but imagined images from moments before. “…What was that again?” he
finally gave in, feeling his heart going at a ferocious pace.

Harry
tilted his head, eyes wide, and smiled a little. “Do you really care about
me?” he repeated.

“Of course
I do,” Lupin said huskily, his voice blanketed in lust. He saw Harry’s eyes
darken, and the boy reached up to take his face in his hands, pulling the man
down into an inexperienced kiss. No, no, no! This can’t be happening,
Remus panicked, no self control, too close to the apex of the cycle, mustn’t
do this—mustn’t mustn’t, must NOT—James and Lily would kill me, Sirius would
kill me, Dumbledore would kill me— but even amidst these rational thoughts,
his body had gone completely beyond his control. His grip had tightened on the
boy’s shoulders, his other hand to Harry’s hip, and his lips had responded
enthusiastically. Of course, that was nothing to what his body was doing
beneath his robes, but at least Harry wasn’t aware of that.

Harry was
beyonavenaven. There were no words to describe this paradise. He let one of his
hands stray up into Lupin’s hair, tangling in the soft strands. God, that was
nice. The sound Remus made in the back of his throat when Harry did it was even
better. Harry’s other hand slid down to the man’s chest, where he worked his
fingers into the space between two buttons on Lupin’s shirt, greedily seeking
the rough hair he’d felt there earlier. He just managed to brush against it
with the very tips of his fingers, and let a sigh out through his nose.

Abruptly, the door to the room snapped open,
and Remus leapt back from the boy. There was a Death Eater standing in the
doorway, managing to communicate a sneer even though he wore a mask. Remus
suddenly realized that he’d been more worried about being caught in a
compromising position with the youth than protecting him, and hurled himself
between the Death Eater and the boy. He should have known someone would come to
check in on them. It had to be morning by now, at least.

“I thought
you might want to know,” the Death Eater told them in Lucius Malfoy’s
unmistakably smug drawl, “that we’ve breached Hogwarts’ security, and that the
castle will shortly fall to us. My master had sanctioned me to give you one
last chance at survival. Join us, and you will be spared.”

Harry bit
his lip, knowing he had to let Lupin take charge—wanting Lupin to take
charge. He snuck a quick glance at the werewolf, who was bristling at the
offer, his lips pulled back in distaste. When he realized Harry was watching
him, he seemed to master himself once more, that calm alter ego sliding into
place.

“I don’t
see how that would benefit us in the least,” he said quietly. “Voldemort is not
a man to keep his promises. Nor, it must be said, are you. This being the case,
I find it difficult to believe you’ve managed to get within Hogwarts’ walls,
and this all isn’t just a very stupid ploy.”

Lucius’s
bearing tensed, as though he was extremely angry. “You may think whatever you
like,” he told them in clipped tones. “Though I find it very rich; having my
honor impugned by someone who is not even human. We have entered
Hogwarts, and I shall take especial pleasure in knocking each and every one of
its stones to the ground.” His eyes glittered maliciously.

Harry was
shocked when Lupin suddenly collided with the man, driving him into the wall
and scrabbling to tear the wand from his hand. “Expelliarmus!” Harry heard
Lucius snarl, and with a burst of light, Lupin was thrown across the room, coming
to rest on the cold stone floor. Harry jumped in front of him, arms out as if
to fend off another attack.

Lucius
merely laughed long and disdainfully. “You see how your little hero leaps to
your rescue? Have you told him, wolf, what you will do to him if my master has
not finished sacking the castle by nightfall? Have you explained that you will
rend the meat from his bones like the animal you are?” He laughed again at the
expression on Lupin’s face. “Or had you forgotten tonight was the full moon? Do
you know, I hope the Dark Lord is detained at Hogwarts. I think it would
be such a fitting end for the boy, ending his existence as dog food by
proxy.” He chuckled again, and whirled, striding quickly out the door and
slamming it behind him.

“Re—I mean, ah. Are yll rll right?”
Harry asked worriedly at Lupin’s side. He tentatively reached out, letting his
fingers rest lightly on the man’s upper arm. What if he was angry about the
kiss? Stop that, you idiot, Harry reprimanded himself. That isn’t
important, now. He could really be hurt!

“Oh, I’ll
live, Harry,” Remus grunted. “I think my ribs may be a little bruised, and my
back is sore, but it would take more than that to finish off a werewolf.” He
sighed. “Back to square one, aren’t we? I had hopes that with Lucius distracted
on his superiority digression, I might have been able to get his wand away.
Alas, I’m not as spry as I used to be.”

Harry
looked at him admiringly. “I was really impressed that you tried, though.
Scared to death that he’d really hurt you—but impressed all the same. I really
didn’t expect you to do that—it was so fast and everything!”

“Not fast
enough,” Lupin responded, smiling wryly. “It’s…becauhe fhe full moon is so
close,” he whispered. “I get a little…reckless around this time.houghough it
does sharpen my senses, and often the adrenaline gives me a boost of strength,
so…I was hoping it might just be enough to prevail.”

“It almost
was,” Harry told him bracingly. “It was really a good show, by the way. It’s
kind of funny. Like one minute you’re mild mannered Professor Lupin, and the
next, you’re Superwolf.”

Lupin
rolled his eyes at this, but if anything, his smile stretched a little wider.
After a few moments of silence, it faltered. “I should not have done that,” he
stated.

&nb![en![endif]>

“Nah,
doesn’t matter,” Harry assured him. “It was a good try and all, and you nearly
managed it.”

“Not
that,” Lupin said shortly.

“Oh.”
Harry thought for a few moments. “But…you didn’t do that. I did
that. It wasn’t your fault. Er. Are you mad at me?”

Lupin
could have choked on the irony. “No, Harry, I’m not angry with you. I’m angry
with myself for giving in to a very brutish urge. And you needn’t blame
yourself; I’m the adult here, this whole thing is my responsibility. I’m your
professor and protector, and I haven’t done a good job at being either one, of
late. And though I care very deeply for you, what we just did was wholly
inappropriate for a wide range of reasons.”

Harry was
suddenly angry. He should have known Remus would act like this. He should have known.
He got to his feet, pacing back and forth, pausing now and again to give the
cot leg a savage kick. “Don’t do this, Remus,” he fumed. “Just. Don’t.
Don’t you dare pull this sanctimonious bullshit on me. I want you and
you want me and that’s all we need to know. That’s all that matters. Isn’t it?
Well? Isn’t it?” Harry stared at him, eyes flashing with ire.

“No,
Harry. I don’t want to do that to you, either. I mean; I do want to…I
can barely control it right now. The wolf is fighting to get out, you don’t
know how hard…just…please don’t say things like that, Harry. Not now. You don’t
know what it does to me—or what I’d like to do to you. That’s almost as bad—”

“At least
that way I wouldn’t be dead!” Harry shot back, face flushed.

Remus went
very pale. “I’m sorry. But there isn’t even any evidence that that would work.
It’s just a myth. And then, I’d have hurt you twice. I couldn’t bear to do
that, Harry.” The boy looked away for a long time, but finally nodded. “I’m
sure the Order will come for us, soon.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Night was
falling, and no one had come for them. Remus had even gone and screamed through
the door, hoping he could make one last attempt at negotiation, but the entire
place seemed empty, filled with nothing but fear and echoes. Harry merely
watched silently as Remus paced.

The youth
wished Remus were more terrifying. More monstrous. That would make it easier.
Perhaps then Harry would have at least been able to concentrate on other
possible courses of action. As it was…Remus was stunning. His eyes were both
darker and brighter than they usually were, his tongue kept slipping out to run
along his lips or sometimes his teeth, and his movements! God, Harry had never
seen anyone move with such powerful, alluring grace before. His muscles worked
like oiled snakes, smooth and fluid. Harry was having a difficult time thinking
at all, as the man’s strong shoulders shifted, his biceps clenched and
unclenched, and his…Good grief, idiot; stop drooling over the man’s arse,
Harry told himself sternly. If he catches you at that…

Suddenly,
Remus dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his
forehead on them. Harry tensed, but the man was still a man. “One hour to
go…two if we’re lucky,” he whispered.

Harry ached
for the man—in every conceivable sense. “I’m sorry,” he told him again.
“Look…this isn’t your fault. And they’ll have to understand that, as well. You
can’t help this. And I’d never blame you. I’m sure the others won’t, either—”

Remus gave
a short, cynical laugh. “It won’t matter what the others think or feel. There
are laws about this sort of thing.”

Harry
cocked his head to the side, concerned. “What do you mean?”

Remus
heaved a heavy sigh, causing his shoulders to rise greatly and fall again.
“There are many laws governing dark creatures in the wizarding world. One is
that if a werewolf kills a human, it must be put down.” He gave a snort. “Like
a rabid dog. It’s lost control, you see. There are no second chances.”

Harry gaped
at him in horror. His own death—well; he’d been thinking about that for a long
while now. Years, in fact. He didn’t look forward to it, but he was probably less
terrified of it than he might have been. But Remus didn’t deserve to die—none
of this was his fault! He had to do something.hhad to do something.