Somehow, it was only after Remus was injured and nearly killed in the final battle against Voldemort that Harry realized how he felt about him. It might have been, Harry mused, the fact that Remus had gone down protecting his back from Lucius Malfoy while Harry dealt with Voldemort in front of him, and how he’d felt Remus lying down behind his knees, and how his courage in facing Voldemort had wavered for a bit with a very strong urge to turn around, pick Remus up, and take him away from the fighting. It had been hard killing Voldemort after that, worrying about Remus behind him—not that it wasn’t hard in the first place, but it was harder.

And somehow, during those breathless few seconds when he first realized that Remus was down behind him, the world had broken apart, and been remade to include the knowledge that Harry Potter was in love with Remus Lupin.

After Voldemort had died, and Lucius was nowhere to be seen, and Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he and nearly everyone else who had taken part in the battle go immediately to the hospital wing, Harry finally had time to sit down and tremble. He soundly cursed whatever part of his brain had released the knowledge to him at that moment, and as soon as Madam Pomfrey let him, he spent the next several days at Remus’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up, and having his meals brought to him by house-elves.

Harry had also realized by now that it was impossible for him to conceal how he felt when he fancied a person, though he knew that this went far beyond fancying and how could his feelings have gotten this deep without him noticing? He didn’t question that he had them, because Remus was probably the best person he could have fallen in love with, he decided, save that he was twenty years Harry’s senior. Not that that mattered in terms of a wizard’s lifespan, so Harry didn’t pay it any mind. Besides, he was nearly eighteen, and wasn’t that the legal age for homosexual relationships in Britain? Harry didn’t remember, but he told himself he would look it up soon enough.

But anyway. Now that he’d acknowledged his feelings to himself, he knew that he wouldn’t have a chance keeping them from anyone else—it had been obvious to everyone that he’d fancied Cho, and even as Luna, Ginny, Susan Bones, and Mandy Brocklehurst followed, he’d never been able to keep them to himself, so this time he resolved not to even try. It might even be better this way.

Therefore, as soon as Harry saw that Remus had his eyes open for the first time since the battle, he looked down and clearly said, "I’m in love with you."

Remus blinked blearily a few times. "That’s nice, Harry," Remus said fuzzily, and closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Harry grinned.

--

Remus floated in and out of consciousness throughout the next several weeks and into the summer. Now that he’d woken up, Harry felt safe in leaving him alone for periods at a time, and began spending more time with Ron and Hermione than he’d gotten just from visits in the hospital wing. They were two of the very few who knew why he was still in there—everyone else thought he’d just sustained lasting injuries in the last battle. Both of them, though, had been very surprised at Harry’s proclamation that he was in love with Remus Lupin.

"But Harry!" Ron had protested. "He’s another bloke!"

"I realize that, Ron," Harry had replied. "Does it really matter? I love him."

"He’s your father’s age," Hermione had tried.

"Wizards live a long time," Harry had said.

It hadn’t been long before they’d given in, seeing that Harry was sincere in how he felt. But it was too bad that Remus still wasn’t recovered enough to remember most of the conversations he held. It was some sort of side effect of the potions used to save his life from the combination of spells and silver dagger Lucius Malfoy had used to injure him this seriously. But just as Remus was falling asleep at the end of every conversation he had with Harry, Harry had said, "I love you," and Remus smiled as he slipped into sleep.

--

It was late into the summer before Remus really began to get well again. Harry, having vowed the last time he left, for his seventh year, to never set foot on the Dursleys’ property again, stayed at Hogwarts that summer and helped with the maintenance of the grounds. Hagrid had died earlier in the year and his replacement hadn’t arrived for the fall term yet, so Harry and Filch were the ones who kept the grounds in order, though Filch always stayed as far away from Harry as possible, and Harry did the same.

And every day, Harry would check on Remus, who had decided to remain in Hogwarts where he would be ensured proper care, rather than be moved to St Mungo’s. They would talk a bit, Harry would fetch Remus a book from the library to read while he had to stay in bed, and afterwards Harry usually had to go fly loops in the air above the Quidditch pitch to work off his exuberance at how Remus was progressing and how easily talking to each other came to them. Several times he noticed Remus watching him from the hospital wing window, and always waved, and got a wave in return. Life was good.

But it was a relief when Remus was able to walk out of the hospital wing and towards the quarters especially prepared for him in the castle. They were near Harry’s own quarters, a fact which made Professor—now Headmistress since Dumbledore’s death—McGonagall raise her eyebrows at and then pass off without a comment. Harry still spent time visiting with Ron and Hermione, but he was growing closer to Remus, and they were growing closer to each other, and they didn’t need to be together physically for their friendship to be as strong as ever, so they often weren’t. Harry was the closest he had ever been to happy with his life.

That nearly shattered when the nightmares started arriving. They weren’t like the dreams he’d had during Hogwarts, Voldemort-induced dreams. These were just ordinary nightmares, he knew, because they were memories of the battles he’d been in, and memories of things he’d rather not remember. He didn’t like thinking about the day Hagrid died, for example, or how he watched Percy and Bill give their lives so that he, Ron, and Hermione could escape the Death Eaters holding them. But he consoled himself with the fact that Voldemort was dead and they were just nightmares, and life went on normally.

That is, life went on normally until the night he had a screaming nightmare. He didn’t even realize he was screaming until he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him to wake him up, and opened his eyes to meet concerned, almost frightened, brown ones. Harry looked up at Remus, his eyes wide, and panting, and without a word laid his head on Remus’s shoulder, and closed his eyes against the tears leaking out when Remus’s arms closed around him. He still didn’t like remembering the way Hagrid died, his body almost unrecognizable after the effort it had taken for the Death Eaters to kill him, because they hadn’t wanted to spoil the "fun" and use Avada Kedavra. But he looked up at Remus again, and Remus must have seen something in his eyes, because, also without a word, Remus laid down with him on the bed and held him close throughout the night as he slept. He didn’t dream again.

And eventually, after this same scene played out many times in the next few weeks, Remus just stayed with Harry the full night. He was the only thing that kept the dreams at bay, and so Harry grew used to falling asleep in his arms every night and waking up in the morning after a pleasant night’s sleep. It wasn’t sexual—Harry wasn’t sure Remus even really realized what Harry felt for him, after being told only in his fever dreams—but it was comforting, and it was Remus, and Harry was happy with it well enough.

--

One day in the middle of August, Harry was reading in his room when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Harry said, and turned a page. He put the book down when he saw that it was Headmistress McGonagall.

"We need two teachers," she said without preamble as soon as they were seated in chairs by the fireplace. "Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. We’ve already found people to fill the Charms and the Ancient Runes vacancies, but no one has applied for either of those two, and we need teachers for the coming school year."

Harry frowned. "And you want me for one of them—Defense, I’m assuming?" he asked, and she nodded. "You do realize that I’m only eighteen though, don’t you?" His birthday had passed quietly, though with a visit from Hermione and the Weasleys, and the first birthday cake with candles he’d ever had.

"That fact hasn’t escaped me," she replied wryly. "Not that it matters, as you already have more experience than someone ten years your elder might. And I think you’d be a good teacher."

Harry smiled absentmindedly at the rare compliment from his former professor, but didn’t answer. McGonagall cleared her throat, and smiled when he looked up. "I’ll be offering the Transfiguration post to Remus Lupin," she said. "But I’ll give you some time to decide about Defense." Then, with another smile, she left.

And as soon as Remus told him that he’d decided to accept the position of Transfiguration professor as well as Head of Gryffindor House, Harry told McGonagall of his own decision to join the Hogwarts staff. As he left her office after his pronouncement, he could have sword that she was hiding a grin. He wondered if she’d planned on things going this way, and decided that she really was an observant old witch.

--

It was later the next day, just a week before school was to start again, when Remus came and found him reading in his rooms again.

"Harry," he said, and hesitated. "Harry," he tried again. "Once classes start again, and we’re teaching...we should probably sleep in separate beds again. In different rooms. We wouldn’t want the students to possibly get the wrong idea."

Harry didn’t know what to think, and so just stood there. "Oh," he said. He was trying not to think of how used he had gotten to Remus’s presence in his bed at night, and how it would probably hurt to not have it anymore.

"And the nightmares have probably gone away by now anyway," Remus continued. "They haven’t been there for a long time now."

Harry just nodded. It wasn’t that big a deal, he tried to tell himself. It’s not like they weren’t still going to be living in the same castle, weren’t still going to see each other every day. They just wouldn’t see each other every night too. Why did that idea hurt so much?

Remus hesitated again. "Is that all right with you?" he asked quietly. Harry didn’t reply, and with a long look at Harry’s face, Remus turned around to leave.

Harry found his voice again just as Remus’s hand was on the doorknob. "I love you," he said, softly but clearly, and Remus stiffened. It was obvious that he’d heard it.

"Harry," he said almost desperately, without turning around. "Harry, you can’t."

"Why not?" Harry asked calmly. He knew he should probably be more nervous about this—it was the first time he’d told Remus while Remus was really completely awake—but he just felt almost numb.

"Because," Remus replied, still facing the door, "because I’m your former professor, and twenty years older than you, and..."

"...and none of that matters," Harry interrupted. "You’re not my teacher any longer, and twenty years is not all that much in a wizard’s life. And I love you."

"Harry," Remus said, and Harry could see his shoulders shaking slightly. "You can’t love me, I—"

"You’re a wonderful man that I’m proud to be in love with," Harry interrupted again. He wondered briefly where he’d gotten so eloquent with things like this, and decided that Remus brought it out in him. Remus always had brought out the best in him. He walked over to just behind Remus, and put a hand in the small of his back. Remus jumped.

"Harry—" Remus started again, but Harry slid the other arm around his waist, and Remus closed his mouth.

"I’ve known I loved you since you almost died," Harry said, his cheek pressed against Remus’s shoulders. "I told you when you first woke up, and again, and again, but you kept forgetting."

"I can’t forget now," Remus replied, his voice sounding almost strangled, though he made no move to shake Harry off.

"No," Harry agreed. "You can’t forget now." He closed his eyes and pressed himself closer, aware that this might be the closest he would ever get to Remus. "And what do you feel about me? Am I just your dead best friend’s son and your other dead best friend’s godson?" He knew he sounded slightly bitter, and didn’t care.

"No!" Remus exclaimed, obviously startled at the idea. "No," he said more quietly. "To me, you are Harry. Always Harry."

"But what am I to you?" Harry persisted. His fingers rubbed little circles along Remus’s hipbone, and Remus shuddered slightly.

"I think," Remus said, so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear him at all, "I think that...I may be in love with you too."

Harry smiled, his eyes still closed. "Good," he breathed. He squeezed Remus’s waist, then stepped back. Remus turned around quickly, grabbing Harry’s hand in his.

"You don’t mind?" Remus asked anxiously. "I didn’t want to fall in love with you, but then I did, and I wanted to keep sleeping in the same bed as you, but I didn’t dare..."

Harry laughed. "Dare all you like," he said cheerfully. "The more often, the better." His hand still tucked in Remus’s own, he tugged slightly, walking backwards towards the bed, and Remus followed without thought. He sat down once he reached it, and scooted up, pulling Remus up beside him and sliding arms around his waist again.

"You want to do this, Harry?" Remus murmured, his arms around Harry too. "Have you ever—with a man before?"

"No, and not with a woman either," Harry said cheekily, and grinned. "But I’m glad enough that my first time will be you. There’s no one else I’d rather it be."

"If you’re sure, then," Remus whispered. But Harry knew he was sure, and knew that he was just as sure that he wanted to kiss Remus, and so he tilted the other man’s chin down towards him, and leaned forward, and their lips met.

It wasn’t like fireworks, Harry thought fuzzily around the smooth feel of Remus’s lips, remembering descriptions in Muggle novels of kisses with the one you love. It wasn’t like fireworks at all. It was a whole damn parade, drums beating and trumpets blaring that this was as right as could be, and when their mouths opened and tongues found each other and tangled together, the chorus joined the band and Harry didn’t want to think any more.

Without breaking the kiss, his hands started undoing the clasps of Remus’s robes, and pushed them off the other man’s shoulders as soon as they were undone. It was nearing the end of summer, but it was still warm enough in the magic-heated castle, and neither man was wearing anything besides boxers underneath his robes. It was the work of seconds to throw clothing onto the floor, and Harry finally broke the kiss to look down Remus’s body in appreciation.

Remus was beautiful, Harry decided. There were small scars scattered across his body, but they increased rather than detracted from his appeal. Harry slid his body downward, kissing each scar he could reach within his path as Remus breathed heavily below him. When he got to Remus’s erection, he touched it lightly, and Remus hissed. And then, with a wicked grin, he decided to try out an idea he’d read about in books, and closed his mouth around the head of Remus’s cock. He slid his tongue along the length, enjoying the odd but definitely Remus-y taste of it, but he pulled his head up, worried, when Remus groaned.

"Was that all right?" he asked anxiously. He really didn’t want to do things wrong now of all times...

"Yes. Yes!" Remus replied quickly, shooting him a quick but genuine smile. "That was wonderful. Perfect. And it would be even better if you kept doing it..."

With another grin, this one partly of relief that he was doing things right, Harry slid his mouth around Remus’s cock again, and swirled his tongue around the head. Remus was gasping now, obviously enjoying it, but it was starting to feel slightly weird in Harry’s mouth now, so he pulled his head back. Remus looked up at him, but Harry crawled up his body and kissed him on the mouth to reassure him, and Remus kissed him back.

Then their groins pressed together, and their cocks brushed each other, and both sucked in a breath.

"There’s a spell, you know," Remus whispered. "Is it all right...?"

Harry nodded and smiled at him. "Yes," he said sincerely. "It’s absolutely all right." And, sorta knowing from the books he’d found on the subject, he turned around, presenting his backside to Remus. He shivered when Remus trailed a finger down his spine, and took in a deep breath when Remus’s hand reached his arse cheeks and Remus murmured something and he felt himself stretching a bit and growing warmer.

"You all right?" Remus asked over his shoulder, his cock brushing Harry’s entrance, and Harry bit back a moan.

"Yes, yes I’m fine. Just do it!" he ground out, impatient to have Remus inside him. And without another word, Remus was, his cock sliding past Harry’s entrance, and Harry couldn’t hold back anymore at the sensations having Remus inside him was evoking. And he moaned, loudly, when he felt Remus’s hand move forward to curl around his own cock and start moving up and down, even as Remus was moving in and out of Harry’s body.

"Remus," Harry said breathlessly, and felt himself stiffen as his climax approached. "Remus!" And then he came onto Remus’s hand and the sheets, and a few seconds later, Remus growled out, "Harry!" and came inside him.

They lay like that for a few moments before Remus withdrew and muttered another spell, cleaning up the semen around them. He brought the covers up to cover both of them, and Harry turned around to face Remus and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"I love you," he declared softly, knowing that this time, Remus would hear it and remember it. Remus chuckled.

"I love you too," he replied, and enclosed Harry in his arms, Harry sliding arms around his waist again. And they fell asleep that way, and smiled, and knew that things between them now were better than before.

Back