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hpkinkfestTitle: sticky absolutism and defiant sweetness <--link to journal.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_con_cept
My own prompt:
Kink Showcased: Younger person seducing older person.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Remus/Harry, mentions of past Harry/others
Summary: Harry enjoys flaunting his status as a teacher's pet in front of the other students. Remus is less enthusiastic about it.
Content Notes/Warnings: Teacher/student, AU, cross-dressing, oral sex and food!play. Though I didn’t give Harry an exact age, Harry is still in school and will likely read as underage.
Word Count: 8,500
Author's Notes: Beta read by the wonderfuldemarafis. Title taken from A Poem About Honey, by Ted. I also made changes after my beta went through this, so all mistakes are definitely mine.
sticky absolutism and defiant sweetness
Harry tapped his foot, watching Professor Lupin write about Chimaeras on the blackboard. “And Chimaera eggs are classified as . . . Class . . . A . . . Non-Tradable Goods,” Lupin said, finishing the ‘s’ with a flourish. He turned to face the class. “And I suggest you all make a note of it, because it will be on Friday’s quiz.” He looked at them sternly over the rims of his reading glasses.
The glasses were new, and held Harry in thrall. He found his own glasses nothing but a nuisance, but they made Professor Lupin seem at once sophisticated and unconsciously sexy. That, Harry thought, was one of the best things about Professor Lupin—he was completely oblivious to the “sexy school teacher” vibes he gave off.
Harry gave the man a flirtatious smile. Beneath his desktop, Harry traced a finger up the inside of his thigh. At that angle, only the professor could see what he was up to.
When the man noticed Harry wiggling in his seat and what his hands were doing beneath it, Professor Lupin got flustered and fumbled the chalk, juggling it from one hand to the other before dropping it on his desk. “And that’s . . . um . . . that’s . . . everything you need to know about Chimaeras,” he said weakly. He cleared his throat. “Class dismissed.”
As everyone else gathered their things and began to leave, Harry went straight to the front of the classroom. “Professor Lupin?” he said.
“Yes, Harry?” Remus replied, adjusting his glasses and focusing on his papers.
“I’m running a little late with my essay. I was wondering if I might have an extra day or two to work on it?” Harry said hopefully.
The professor looked up, surprised. “More time?”
Harry discreetly loosened his Gryffindor tie. “I promise I’m working very hard on it,” he said.
Remus’ eyes were fixed on Harry’s knuckles, watching his fingers tug at the knotted fabric. Harry flashed him a smile. The man blinked. “Well, ah, I guess—I mean, of course, Harry. Of course you can take an extra day. Or two,” he added hoarsely.
“Sodding teacher’s pet,” Harry heard Malfoy spit as he walked past.
Harry smiled sweetly at Malfoy and didn’t say a word.
Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “Harry is liked by his teachers because he works so hard and is pleasant to his classmates,” he told Malfoy. “If you made an effort, you’d be more popular as well.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Right,” he drawled, and flounced out of the room.
Harry beamed. “I like being teacher’s pet,” he told the professor.
“I’m not supposed to play favourites,” Remus began, but he stopped, smiling, as Harry tugged at his tie. It slid off his shoulder and crumpled onto the floor like a woman in a swoon. Remus sighed. “But you are my favourite,” he added helplessly.
“I really like your new reading glasses,” Harry informed him.
“You do?”
Harry hummed and nodded. “They make you look serious and intelligent. And sexy.” The professor reddened. “It’s hard to concentrate on my essay when I start thinking about how you look in your glasses,” Harry added boldly.
Remus glanced at the door to make sure no one was nearby. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he whispered. “Not in public.”
“But you like it,” Harry whispered back.
Remus couldn’t help but smile.
Harry laughed, turned and bent to pick up his tie, contriving to be as sexy as possible. He did hope Remus noticed how perky his bum was. When he straightened, the man was bright red. He’d noticed. “Right,” Harry said when Remus didn’t say anything. “Well. See you later.” Harry had to run to get to Charms on time, but that was all right. A few sweet minutes alone with his favourite professor was worth it.
“Why are you so late?” Hermione hissed at him in alarm as he slid into his seat.
Harry just grinned and shrugged.
“Ugh, it’s not another boy, is it?” Ron demanded. “You’ve already had two boyfriends this month.”
“This one’s different,” Harry insisted. “This one’s special.”
As Professor Flitwick dove into the lesson, literally (he was teaching the Cushioning Charm and jumping off his desk as a demonstration), Harry began to daydream. He’d become infatuated with Remus some time ago, during the Patronus lessons.
Remus had offered Harry white chocolate one day, in celebration—because Harry had faced the Boggart-Dementor three times and hadn’t fainted once—and had been consternated to hear that Harry had never tried white chocolate.
“The Dursleys were never generous with sweets,” Harry had commented with only a tinge of bitterness.
“You’ve never had white chocolate? You haven’t lived,” Remus had answered. Harry hadn’t been sure if he was serious, or just being silly.
The next day, Remus had bought Harry a whole box of chocolates, all with nougat and caramel and nuts and crème fillings. And it was in the shape of a heart.
“It was on sale,” Remus had insisted, reddening.
“Sale or not, it’s literally the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Harry had told him with a laugh.
“You deserve to be treated well,” Remus had told him gently.
And that, Harry had decided, was love.
oOoOoOo
After that, Harry had pursued the man. And Harry was nothing if not bold. He cornered him right after the next class, following the final student to the door, then closing it firmly behind him and locking it. He turned to Remus and screwed his courage to the sticking place. “Um,” he said.
“Harry?” Remus said blankly.
Harry swallowed. He had noticed the way Remus looked at him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking. It was so adoring and wistful. Harry was sure Remus wanted him too—but Remus would never be the first to say it. Harry needed to be brave about this. Firm. Nonchalant. “Um,” Harry repeated—but very nonchalantly, he hoped. “I have the most tremendous crush on you,” he blurted. “And I can’t stop thinking about it. I know it might not work out in the long run, but I . . . um, I was sort of hoping we might, at least short term, try . . . I don’t know, shagging like rabbits at every given opportunity?” he suggested.
Remus turned twelve shades of red. Harry could see him gulping for air. “Oh, dear,” the man said. But that wasn’t a no.
Harry let out a long, shaky breath. “I want you,” he said with feeling. Remus stared at him. “Do you . . . don’t you want me too?” The look Remus gave Harry was almost an answer in itself—it was full of such longing and hunger and heat.
“I . . . was under the impression you were already involved with someone,” Remus replied.
“I’m not involved with anyone.”
“I—I’m too old for you, in any case.” Remus mumbled.
“I notice you didn’t say no,” Harry pointed out.
“I should go.” Remus tried to march past him and out the door, but Harry caught a hand in his robes and, after a struggle, Remus gave up. Which, Harry felt, was probably a good analogy for their whole relationship.
“You can’t say no after you gave me that look,” Harry said reasonably. He looked at Remus with longing. The man was so sweet, so gentle, so in control all the time. Harry wanted to watch him lose control, to make him lose control. He had never wanted anything this much. “Please?”
Remus sighed. “Only a terrible person would put himself in a position of authority over a beautiful young boy and then take advantage of him,” he said.
“Okay,” Harry said after a moment. “How about I take advantage of you instead?” He got up on his tiptoes and kissed Remus softly.
Remus put his arms around Harry, pulled him close, and kissed him breathless. “I can’t resist you,” he admitted. “Your eyes, your mouth, the way you walk . . . the way you look at me as though you want to be devoured . . . I can’t give you much, Harry. But I will tell you that you’ll never want for kisses—or cheap chocolate,” he promised.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting to hear that my whole life,” Harry said. Harry began to unbutton his robes.
And Remus did not say no.
That, Harry felt, was the main thing about Remus—he could feel guilty about things and worry about things and try to reason with Harry, but he almost never actually said no—even to shoddy reasoning spouted by a randy teenage boy.
And that was fine with Harry. Harry didn’t mind being the bad boy, if it meant he got to keep Remus.
oOoOoOo
That weekend, Harry watched listlessly as Remus put together two cages. “I really think you’re going to like our next class, Harry. It’s quite rare to be able to catch a Diricrawl, and the spells needed to contain them, while not complicated, take quite a bit of maintenance.”
“Hmmm,” Harry replied. He rested his chin on the desk and huffed, watching the feathers of his quill ripple.
“There. Done.” Remus retrieved a large sack which shimmered from the spells placed on it, set it in the middle of one of the cages, and loosened the top. He shut the cage door, and after a few minutes the sack wriggled. A bedraggled, round, funny-looking bird poked his head out. “Now, watch this,” Remus instructed. He reached into the cage and poked the bird. With a tiny popping noise, like a soap bubble bursting, the Diricrawl vanished, immediately reappearing in the other cage. It looked around in surprise.
Harry half smiled at this.
Remus looked at him. “Harry, what’s wrong?” he said, coming to sit on Harry’s desk. “You haven’t been yourself today.”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just . . . nothing,” he sighed. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but he’d chosen to spend it with Remus. But Remus talked about nothing but schoolwork, and Harry felt frustrated. He wanted adventure. He wanted romance. He wanted a date.
What he did not want was disappearing Diricrawls. He didn’t want a lecture.
Harry became aware that Remus was looking at him. “What?”
“What if we—what if I—do you want to go to Hogsmeade? Together?” Remus suggested.
Harry suddenly sat up straight. “Really?” An afternoon in Hogsmeade with Remus would be wonderful. “Yes, please,” he managed.
Remus smiled.
oOoOoOo
They went from shop to shop in the cold, peering and pointing at various things. They visited Zonko’s and laughed at the various jokes, particularly a pair of dice that turned into mice and scurried away when you rolled them.
Harry took the opportunity to flirt as outrageously as he possibly could, laughing at Remus’ jokes, walking close enough to nudge him occasionally, and, of course, touching the man as much as he possibly could. He wasn’t subtle about it, brushing invisible lint from the man’s collar, tugging his hand when he didn’t walk quickly enough and nudging their hips together every time he could.
“Let me buy you a cup of cocoa,” Remus suggested.
“I’d like that,” Harry replied.
At the Three Broomsticks, they struggled out of their coats and cosied up at the bar, with Harry sitting as close to Remus as possible. Harry gave the man a sly, shy grin. “Thank you so much for this,” he said.
The man tried to hide his smile behind his mug. “It was nothing.”
“That’s not true. I think it’s sweet of you to buy me cocoa,” Harry told him.
“Anything else I can get you two?” Rosmerta asked.
“Not just now, thanks,” Remus told her.
The bartop was thick oak, dark and scarred from cups being banged into it. Harry traced a knot in the wood as he waited for Rosmerta to leave. Finally, a customer called to her from across the room. Beneath the bartop, Harry put his hand on Remus’ knee.
Remus promptly jerked, spilling his cocoa all over the place. He apologised profusely as he mopped up the mess.
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You could just tell me no if you wanted to,” he suggested.
“I wasn’t saying no,” Remus replied distractedly, still patting his shirt.
Harry grinned widely. He doubted the man had even really been paying attention to what he said, but Harry’d take it anyway. He put his hand back on Remus’ leg, thrilling when Remus blushed. He loved the effect he had on the man. The man’s shyness made Harry feel powerful and predatory.
“You want to go over to Gladrags?” he asked.
Remus looked surprised. “I . . . if you like. But I would have thought you’d rather visit Honeydukes,” he said.
Harry shrugged. “We can go there too, but I was thinking I could use, um, new robes,” he said.
“Well, if that’s what you want,” Remus said dubiously.
But the moment they entered Gladrags, Harry dragged Remus back to the private changing rooms. “Wait here,” Harry ordered. Remus protested, but Harry shoved him toward a chair and disappeared back into the shop, hunting quickly through the racks of robes before he found what he wanted.
When Harry returned, Remus was looking uncomfortable and a bit out of place—not unusual for someone waiting for a friend to finish shopping. “What are you—?”
“Hang on,” Harry told him, ducking behind a curtain. “I need your opinion on something.” He quickly stripped, wondering if Remus was watching his clothes as they were being discarded onto the floor. Harry was much more careful with the new outfit—it was delicate enough to rip if he wasn’t cautious. He slipped it on over his head, then slid up the matching stockings, carefully tying the red ribbons that trimmed the tops. When he was done, he admired himself in the mirror, turning a bit to try to see his body from all angles. It was cute, even if he said so himself.
Remus cleared his throat on the other side of the curtain.
Harry stifled a nervous giggle and smoothed his hair down. “Ready?” he purred.
“For . . .?”
“I need your opinion,” Harry replied. He inched the curtain open and peeked out. “Come here,” he said, crooking a finger.
Puzzled but obedient, Remus got up and came forward. He stopped short when he saw what Harry was wearing. “Harry,” he breathed.
“Don’t leave the curtain open!” Harry yelped. He grabbed the front of Remus’ robes and dragged the man forward, swishing the dark fabric curtain closed behind him. “I don’t want everyone to see me like this,” Harry admonished.
“I can’t begin to imagine why,” Remus said.
Harry could have walked on air. He really did think he looked pretty good; the white lace and red ribbon really worked against his pale skin and dark hair. “What do you think?” Harry asked hopefully. “I think it has a kind of Snow White thing going on.” He swished his hips a little, just for effect.
Remus swallowed. “Let me see it from the back,” he suggested.
Harry gave the man a flirty look over his shoulder as he turned. He preened when Remus groaned softly. He wasn’t sure what the man was seeing, exactly, but he could feel the soft white lace kissing his skin. It didn’t even cover his bum, really.
Harry turned. “So? What’s the verdict, professor?” he asked.
Remus reached out hesitantly and traced the lace trim with a finger. He let out a shaky breath. “It’s lovely,” he said. “You look . . . absolutely lovely.”
“Touch more,” Harry whispered.
Remus looked up, eyes ablaze. He didn’t say a word.
“Please?” Harry pleaded. He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t get Remus to touch him. He’d probably explode.
Remus smiled slowly. He wasn’t blushing or uncertain anymore. He looked cool and very in control. “Can you promise to be quiet if I touch you?” he asked. “We’re in an awfully public place.”
Harry bounced happily, clapping his hands. “I can. I will. I promise. Please?” He looked at Remus in adoration. “I’ve wanted it for so long!”
Looking only a little less stern, Remus circled him, brushing a hand over Harry’s thigh. Harry shivered, but kept still and quiet. This must have met Remus’ approval; he stopped behind Harry and lifted a hand to stroke Harry’s throat. Remus leaned down. “Good boy,” he whispered in Harry’s ear.
Harry whimpered softly, pressing a fist to his mouth.
Remus petted him, caressing his hair, his face, even running a thumb over his ear. Harry felt blissfully overwhelmed. This was so different from the hurried fumbling wanks he’d shared with a couple of classmates.
“Do you like this?” Remus murmured.
Harry nodded hard.
Smiling, Remus trailed a hand down Harry’s body, and Harry felt a tingling warmth spring up in its wake—his chest, his stomach, his—but then Remus pulled away.
Harry looked up at him in hurt and confusion.
“You’re so pretty, Harry,” Remus told him. “You asked me here to see you, didn’t you? Why don’t you give me a show?”
Harry flushed brightly, feeling lightheaded, all his bravado gone. Remus wanted him to masturbate in front of him. He suddenly felt so exposed. He literally got dizzy for a moment; he was so turned on.
Then Remus gave him a warm, encouraging smile, and Harry didn’t feel nearly as nervous. It was Remus. Remus had never been mean or cruel to Harry, so what was Harry worried about? He was safe. He was right where he wanted to be.
“Like this?” Harry said shyly, touching his neck.
“Mmhmm,” Remus agreed. “A little lower,” he instructed in a husky voice.
Harry started to touch himself the way he liked, the way he usually did in bed when he thought about Remus.
“Slowly,” Remus cautioned.
Harry swallowed a giggle and tried to go slower. He loved the way Remus was looking at him. He stroked his hands up and down his torso, then spread his hand over his thigh. He could feel the lace and silky ribbon and warmth of his skin. And the way Remus stared at his fingers only made the flesh beneath them grow warmer and tinglier.
Biting his lip, Harry dragged his hand up, fondling himself through the fabric. Remus let out a soft noise which Harry couldn’t help but echo. He manipulated himself to hardness, his breath coming in quick little pants as Remus watched. He wanted so badly to please the man.
“Show me,” Remus begged.
Harry got a delicious shiver up his spine. He flipped up the lacy hem, exposing himself. He was clean shaven and very, very hard. He started to stroke himself—first gently, then with increasing urgency. There was something about Remus watching him that made his gut tighten, warmth building in his stomach.
“Look at you,” Remus murmured. “I had no idea you were such a little exhibitionist. That’s it . . . a little more . . .”
“Remus,” Harry moaned. “Please.”
Remus stroked his face. “What do you want?”
Harry almost couldn’t talk. He felt feral, out of control—desperate. “Please touch me,” he croaked.
Remus kissed him—a real kiss, open mouthed and skillful, fondling Harry’s tongue with his own. It was so intimate and sexual.
Harry was jolted into climax. He wasn’t expecting to orgasm just then, but he couldn’t help it. Remus reached down and took Harry’s hand and prick in his fist, milking him until Harry was utterly spent. Harry fell into the man’s arms. He was exhausted.
Remus patted his head. “Feel better?”
“Oh, my, god,” Harry whimpered.
Remus laughed softly. He gathered Harry into his arms. “Thank you,” he said.
“What did I do?” Harry replied.
“You did all the hard work,” Remus told him. “And you were beautiful. That was . . . special.”
Harry pulled back and gave him a shy smile. “I really like the lace,” he confessed.
“So do I!”
Harry laughed. “I’m going to feel guilty putting it back. Even using a cleaning charm, it’ll seem weird.”
Remus looked at the price tag and gave a low whistle. “Well . . .” He seemed to give this some thought. “You know what?” he finally said. “It’s yours.”
“What? You’re buying it for me?”
“You’re worth it,” Remus said. “And you do look very pretty.”
Harry must have looked stunned, because Remus immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I—I—it’s just that nobody’s ever bought anything for me before. I mean, like this. Well, obviously nothing like this, but . . . just . . . thank you. It really means a lot to me. Thank you.” Harry couldn’t seem to stop saying it. No boy had ever given him anything before, apart from a messy spot on his robes during a tryst after dinner. Actual lingerie was something he’d never dreamed of.
Remus smiled. “I hope you will let me see you wear it again,” he said.
Harry threw his arms around the man. “Definitely.”
Remus kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Then it’s a good investment,” he said.
oOoOoOo
“This isn’t a good time, Harry,” Remus said when Harry opened his door. “I need to have these assignments graded by tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Harry came in anyway. He had only been invited into Remus’ chambers once, but found them rather restful. Most of the furnishings belonged to the castle—the massive roll-top desk, the lumpy couch, the gilded mirror on the wall—but there were touches of Remus, too. He had a patchwork quilt folded on the back of the couch, his own set of tea cups, and a Michaelangelo print hanging above the fireplace that Harry suspected was chosen as much for the nude male subject matter as much as it was for the artistic value.
He flopped out on the couch, taking out a magazine and began reading it.
Remus gave him a look.
“I’ll be good,” Harry promised. “I just want to be with you.”
The man’s face softened. He opened a drawer on his desk. “Here, I bought something for you.”
Harry sat up eagerly. Remus was forever buying him little things, and Harry loved the attention. “What is it?” he asked.
Remus laughed. “It’s nothing much, Harry,” he said rather ruefully. “Just a sweet. Nothing expensive.”
Harry plucked the little stick out of Remus’ fingers. “Honeydukes’ Honeysticks,” he read. “Thank you!” He had seen them before—for the price of a Knut you got a little tube of flavoured honey. He bit off the end and grinned at Remus.
“I’m glad you like it,” Remus told him dryly. “Now be quiet for a bit, scamp, so I can concentrate.”
Harry obligingly flopped down on the couch and went back to his magazine. It was ostensibly about Wizarding Rock and had an article about the Weird Sisters, but it was almost all advertisements. Harry didn’t really mind. He was fascinated by the pinching alarm clocks and singing posters. He wanted everything.
“Wow, look at this,” Harry said suddenly, sitting up and forgetting his promise. “This bed set is really wild!” He read aloud, “In eye-popping shades of purple and green, with pillows in candy-coated shades of pink, this set is all the rage with the teen crowd. I—” Harry looked up and stopped when he saw Remus’ exasperated face. “Sorry.”
“It sounds gaudy,” Remus muttered, going back to his work.
“But fun! I can’t help it; I like bright colours. Comes from being locked in a dreary closet in my formative years, I think,” Harry replied.
Remus set his quill down, looking stricken.
“It’s okay,” Harry said quickly. “Really, don’t worry about it. I don’t think about it at all anymore.”
“Come here and let me give you a kiss anyway,” Remus told him.
Harry jumped up and did as he was told enthusiastically, coming to sit on Remus’ lap. “Sex away all my terrible memories,” he suggested.
Remus laughed. “All you’re getting for now is one kiss,” he told him. “I have to finish these papers.” In spite of his unsociable words, the kiss he gave Harry was steamy, long, and soft and sensual. Remus kept up the kiss until Harry was a squirming, overheated mess. Remus chuckled against Harry’s lips. “That’s enough for now,” he murmured, pulling away.
Harry moaned in disappointment. “That wasn’t nice.”
“Self-control,” Remus replied absently. He went back to his grading and Harry went back to the couch, but he had a hard time focusing on his magazine.
“How much longer?” he asked in a plaintive voice after several minutes.
“Not too much longer,” Remus promised.
Harry chewed on the Honeystick and pouted. He was terribly randy now and Remus wasn’t paying any attention to him. He curled up, resting his chin on the arm of the couch and studied the man. Remus wasn’t wearing robes but an old tweed Muggle outfit with patches on the elbows. Inexplicably, this only made Harry feel more aroused. There was something prim about the man that begged to be mussed and molested.
Harry whimpered. “How much longer?” he asked again.
“Five more papers,” Remus replied without looking up.
Harry huffed. Then he got an idea. He toed off his trainers and pulled off his socks. Then he began to wiggle out of his shirt. He looked over at Remus. The man’s eyes were fixed resolutely on his paperwork, but the shadow of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Getting ready to stay awhile, are we?” he asked.
Harry came over and knelt beside him.
Remus looked at him.
“Don’t worry,” Harry said sweetly. “You don’t have to stop your paperwork yet.” He touched Remus’ knee. When this was not met with instant disapproval, he scooted closer. There was already room for Harry between Remus’ legs, so Harry nestled between them and nuzzled his face against the inside of Remus’ thigh. He heard the man’s breath catch. Harry was just sure Remus would tell him to stop, so he paused a moment.
“You’d better not get honey all over my trousers,” was all Remus remarked.
Harry hid a smile. “Not on your trousers, I promise,” he purred. He rubbed his face against the tweed, wondering if Remus could feel his hot breath through the thick cloth. The man could apparently feel something, as a distinct tent was beginning to rise in the crotch of the man’s trousers.
Harry thrilled at this. Remus let him have his way an awful lot of the time, and Harry enjoyed pushing the limits. He licked a long path up the front of Remus’ slacks, ignoring the scratchy, unpleasant feel of the fabric.
Remus groaned, his hand dropping to cup Harry’s head. “I still have four papers left,” he rasped.
“I’m not stopping you,” Harry pointed out, looking as innocent as possible.
Remus looked skeptical, but amused. “Then what are you doing?” he asked.
Harry kissed the bulge in Remus’ trousers. “I’m just getting you ready,” he murmured. “You can keep working,” he added.
Remus looked at him for a long moment, then bent his head to his paperwork again. Oho! Harry thought with a wicked smile. So we’re playing that game, are we? Harry didn’t mind a bit. He liked trying to make Remus lose his cool. Instead of being upset at getting ignored, Harry began to rub Remus through his trousers. He could feel the stiff outline of the man’s prick, and it hardened further at his manipulations.
Remus still had his hand on Harry’s head, and he guided Harry’s face back to his crotch. Obviously, he wasn’t as excited by the idea of Harry wanking him as he was at oral sex. Harry giggled, rubbing his face flagrantly against the front of the man’s slacks.
Remus made a soft noise. His quill was no longer making scratching sounds against the paper, and his hips kept shifting as he tried to subtly rut against Harry’s face.
Emboldened, Harry reached up and unfastened the man’s trousers, smiling as the button popped free from the hole. It took a few moments to work Remus’ cock out of his pants. The man pretended to be indifferent, but his breath was coming faster.
Smiling, Harry lightly scratched the Honeystick up the man’s shaft. He liked the sharp intake of breath this caused, so he did it again.
“Harry,” Remus said.
“You know . . . Honeysticks are nice, but it’s not at all what I’m craving,” Harry said casually. Eyes locked on Remus’, he squeezed every last drop of honey out, drizzling it over the man’s rigid cock.
Remus looked down at him, his gaze intense and narrow and full of the promise of sex. He traced his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. “I do try to give you what you want,” he growled.
He pushed the head of his penis into Harry’s mouth. “Mmm,” Harry said, eyes falling shut. He let Remus fuck his mouth, obediently trying to take as much as he could when the man’s hand tightened in his hair.
To Harry’s surprise, the act of sucking, the suffocating prick filling his mouth, the taste of salty sweat and sticky honey making his tongue prickle and his belly fill with warmth—it was all incredibly erotic, and he couldn’t help but rub himself through his jeans. He had only tried this once, and hadn’t been at all impressed the first time. This was much sexier and more exciting than he’d expected, especially when Remus began instructing him in how to do it better.
“That’s right,” the man told him, his normally mild voice taking on an edge. “Take it, Harry. Take it deeper. Suck it.”
Harry whimpered. He was going to come he was going to come—Oh, Merlin.
“Suck it hard, Harry. Suck it harder,” Remus groaned.
Harry loved the sound of Remus’ voice.
Remus reached down and cupped Harry’s chin, holding him in place. Harry looked up, compliant, letting Remus use him, use his mouth. He was wildly turned on by this—too . He half-wanted Remus to boss him about and tell him what a bad, naughty boy he was, but at the same time he wanted to please Remus, wanted petting and praise.
Before he could make up his mind, Remus grunted, and a hot splash of come flooded Harry’s mouth. Harry continued to suck, the man’s prick now slippery and pulsing against his tongue.
Remus’ face was flushed, his eyes tightly shut. He continued to fuck Harry’s mouth until he was entirely spent, then suddenly stopped, backing away.
Harry coughed a little, wiping his face. “Wow,” he commented.
Remus was slack in his chair. “Wow,” he echoed. He looked down at Harry in concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t go all honourable on me after you let me give you head.”
The man reddened. “I . . . should have at least warned you, or asked you if you were okay with me, um, climaxing in your mouth.”
Harry grinned. “It’s fine. It was good.” Remus reached down and stroked his face. Harry nuzzled his hand, then stood up. “I should go,” he said.
Remus looked amazed as Harry went and got his shirt and started getting dressed. “What about you?”
“You have papers to grade,” Harry said lightly. He wouldn’t have admitted for a thousand Galleons that he’d already came in his pants. He’d rather that Remus think he was cool and had some kind of self-control. He’d rather Remus think he was just really generous and wanted to get him off without any reciprocation needed.
“I see,” Remus said, all too knowingly for Harry’s taste.
Harry wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue. Remus laughed. Harry relented. He liked Remus’ laugh. It was warm and round and gentle. He went back to the man’s chair and bent to kiss him. “Finish grading your papers,” he said.
Remus stroked Harry’s head softly, ruffling his hair. “It was good,” he said, “But you know what? Next time will be even better.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah?”
“Next time will be on a new purple and green and candy-coated pink bedspread,” the man promised.
Harry laughed and threw his arms around the man.
oOoOoOo
“Everyone turn in your assignments.”
As always, Harry lingered. He knew Professor Flitwick was becoming exasperated with his frequent tardiness, but he didn’t care. He gathered his books and papers as slowly as he could, waiting for everyone to leave. When the last person was out the door, he finally sauntered to the front of the room. “Hey,” he said.
Remus was distracted, trying to get all the freshly-handed-in assignments in order. “Hello,” he said.
Feeling frisky, Harry leant over the desk and managed to kiss Remus on the corner of his mouth. Flustered, Remus dropped everything.
“I’m really sorry,” Harry said shyly. “Are you angry with me?”
Remus looked startled. “I’m not—I’m not angry with you, Harry,” he assured him. “Really, I’m not. It’s just—you ought to at least close the door—”
Harry laughed. “Sorry. Next time I promise I’ll shut the door before I molest you.”
The man smiled back. “You’re going to be late for Charms again,” he pointed out.
Harry sighed. “I know. I just feel like every second I spend with you is a good second, and every second I spend watching Seamus Finnegan accidentally blow something up isn’t such a great second.”
Remus laughed. “That’s got to be an exaggeration. Surely by now he has some sort of control.”
“Last week he did. He was supposed to be doing a Chilling Charm and he blew up his textbook.” Harry shrugged. “I think he’s just not very good at Charms.”
Remus laughed again. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”
Harry lit up. “So romantic! Will you carry my books, too?”
“No, but I’ll levitate them for you,” Remus offered.
“It’s a deal.” Harry felt like he was levitating himself as they headed for the Charms corridor. “Can we hold hands?” he asked. “No one is watching.”
Remus cleared his throat. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“So . . . Christmas is coming up fast,” Remus remarked. “What are you hoping for?”
Harry looked at him slyly. “Are you offering to buy me something?” he asked. “Since you’re my boyfriend, you should get me something extravagant. The amount of money you spend on me is direct proof of how much you love me,” he teased.
“A paper bag to put over your head would be my favourite,” a voice behind them drawled. They turned to see Malfoy sneering at them. “Though it would probably stretch Lupin’s budget.”
Harry glowered at him. “Malfoy, you’re just jealous,” he began, but Remus stopped him.
The man put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” he ordered. Harry could feel his hand shaking, though. “Ignore him.”
“I had wondered why you were top of the class in Defense. I guess you’re learning a lot from all the extra help you get,” Draco said.
Harry narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t leave this minute, I’ll demonstrate everything I know about the Dark Arts—on you. And we’ll just see if you’re really more skilled in Defense than I am.”
“Please, Potter,” Draco said witheringly, but when Harry raised his wand a little, he backed off and left.
“He might tell someone,” Remus murmured.
Harry gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “He won’t. Trust me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I have my reasons,” Harry promised.
oOoOoOo
A couple of days later, Harry received a package at breakfast. He managed to wait until after classes were done to unwrap it. “Fantastic,” he said as he unfurled it. It looked like a sweet shop had exploded.
“Who sent you that?” Ron asked, looking disgusted.
Harry just grinned.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Another one?”
“Same one as last time you asked, actually,” Harry said breezily.
“Must be serious!”
“Serious enough.”
Ron raised his eyebrows. “I dunno, mate. Hard to take anything seriously with you running about getting clown-coloured duvets,” he teased.
“Clown-coloured!?” Harry exclaimed. “It is not! It’s . . . modern.”
“It’s ugly,” Seamus broke in.
“I think it’s kind of brilliant, actually,” Dean Thomas opined after studying the thing for a few minutes through narrowed eyes. “Really modern.”
Seamus turned to Neville, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed and reading a book on baleful botany. “What do you think?” Seamus asked.
Neville looked uncomfortable. “It’s okay,” he said.
Seamus gave him a look. “What do you really think?” he demanded.
Neville shrugged at Harry apologetically. “If colours made noise, that blanket would be screaming to be put out of its misery,” he said.
Harry drew himself up in mock offense. “Well, fine,” he announced. He threw the blanket over his shoulders, like a king putting on an ermine-trimmed robe. “Since we are obviously unappreciated, my fashionable friend and I will just sleep elsewhere tonight.” He turned and marched out of the room.
“He’s such a twit whenever he meets a new bloke,” he heard Ron say with a sigh.
Never mind, he thought. I know someone who appreciates me even when I’m silly. A few minutes later, he knocked on Remus’ door. “Guess what the owl dragged in,” he called.
Silence.
Harry knocked louder. “Remus? I got that bedspread you ordered. Come on, open up and we can play on it. Remus?” Harry knocked again, but got no response. Confused, Harry knocked a few more times, then went back to Gryffindor Tower.
Why hadn’t Remus answered? Was he sick? In the infirmary, even? It wasn’t full moon yet, and Remus would have owled if he wasn’t feeling well.
“What’s up, mate?” Ron said as he entered the dorm. “Thought you had a date.”
Harry sank down on the bed as the realisation struck him. “I think I’ve been stood up,” he answered.
oOoOoOo
“Where were you last night?” Harry demanded as soon as Defense class ended.
Remus flinched, then looked angry. “Mind how you talk to me,” he said snappishly. “I am your professor, and you should treat me with respect—especially in class,” he added, looking at the other students nervously as they exited.
Harry was taken aback. Remus had almost never been angry with him before. “What’s the—” he stopped when the man shot him a look. Harry ground his teeth, waiting for the room to clear. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered when the last one finally left. “I didn’t say anything inappropriate!”
Remus stacked the papers on his desk, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “You need to be more careful,” he said.
“Whatever,” Harry replied angrily. “Why did you stand me up?”
“I did not stand you up. I don’t recall making any plans with you last night.”
“Aha! You knew I was talking about last night. You were there when I knocked on your door! Why didn’t you answer?” Harry demanded.
Remus grabbed him by the arm. “This is not the time or place to discuss things like that,” he said. “Come along,” he added, steering Harry to the door.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked.
“You are not going to be late to Charms again,” Remus told him firmly.
“We can’t talk privately on the way to Charms,” Harry complained.
“No, we can’t,” Remus responded.
Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say a thing, the man shut the door in his face—and a scraping sound from the knob told Harry he’d locked it.
Harry gasped. No one had ever broken things off with him—he’d always been the one to walk away. And he’d certainly never had anyone shut the door in his face!
Fuming, he stormed off to Charms. Who the hell did Remus think he was, anyway?
oOoOoOo
The next afternoon, Harry sat slumped in his chair in the Great Hall, glaring at his food.
“Are you still hurt over being stood up?” Ron asked.
“I’m not hurt,” Harry grunted. “I’m furious.” He flicked a pea as hard as he could.
“Harry,” Hermione reprimanded. “Listen, I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but I don’t want to have to change robes because you were in a foul mood, flicking things at me.”
“I’m not hurt,” Harry repeated. But no matter how many times he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d gone again to Remus’ chambers that night, but Remus had insisted he was much too busy to talk. He’d apologised, but Harry knew something wasn’t right. Harry looked at Hermione imploringly. “What would you do in my situation?” he asked.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, softening. She patted his shoulder. “I’d probably get thoroughly angry and do something rude,” she admitted.
This didn’t solve Harry’s dilemma, but somehow it did make him feel better.
“Buck up,” Ron suggested. “I know you; you’ll have a new bloke before the week’s out.”
“Hi, Harry,” Colin Creevey chirped as he passed. He gave Harry a dreamy look and Harry ducked his head uncomfortably.
“Hi, Colin,” he mumbled.
“You should ask Colin out,” Hermione suggested.
“What?” Harry whispered in alarm. “He looks like he’s about six years old!”
“He’s not that bad,” Hermione replied. “And you know he’s got a mad crush on you.”
“Hermione,” Harry groaned.
Just then, a shout went up from the Slytherin table. “Good on you, Malfoy!” Harry heard someone say.
Malfoy was looking even more unbearably smug than usual. A package had came for him and he’d just unwrapped it at the table. “It’s the latest Falcon—the 5000 series,” he boasted. “It’s not even on the market yet,” he confided in a whisper clearly meant to carry. “Note the silver embellishments on the handle.”
Harry turned away, uninterested in Malfoy or his new broomstick. Malfoy, however, wouldn’t be ignored.
“Like my new stick, Potter?” he asked. “It’s bigger than yours, and it handles better, too.”
“Clear off, Malfoy,” Ron snarled.
“No one’s impressed with Daddy’s little trinkets anymore,” Harry informed him coldly.
Malfoy put a hand on his hip. “Oh, this isn’t from my father,” he said. “It’s from a special someone.” He gave Harry a sticky smile. “I guess someone must like me. What about you, Potter? I notice you’re rather lacking in the flowers and chocolates department these days.”
“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Harry growled, face red.
Draco sauntered away, laughing softly.
Great. Now on top of everything else, he’d let Malfoy get a rise out of him. Harry looked to the front of the hall, but Remus quickly averted his eyes. Harry heaved a sigh.
He was having the worst day of his life.
oOoOoOo
Finally, Harry had had enough. It had been weeks since Remus had last kissed him, let alone done anything racier. Worst of all, it was almost Christmas and Harry felt abandoned and unwanted. He was miserable. He’d even let Hermione set him up, and that had only confirmed what he had suspected—he wanted Remus Lupin. No one else would do.
Steeling himself, Harry took a long look in the mirror. His hair was artfully mussed. His lips had just the slightest hint of gloss. He’d practiced a sexy moue and a sultry lick along his teeth. And most of all, he was completely naked under the invisibility cloak. He was going to make one last impassioned plea for Remus’ affections. If that didn’t work, well . . . it had to work.
He crept out of the loo, looked around and made sure the coast was clear. It was near midnight, and no one else was about.
Some of the portraits stirred and rubbed their eyes or peered suspiciously down the dark hall as he passed, but none of them raised an alarm. Remus’ chambers were straight ahead.
Harry took a deep breath. The door was open—he wouldn’t even have to use a charm! Harry strode right up and threw off his cloak. “Remus,” he said. “I know you—”
“Potter? Are you naked? Merlin, that is truly pathetic,” Malfoy sneered.
Harry felt dizzy. Remus was slumped on the couch, with Draco standing imperiously in front of him. Why was Draco there? Was he—with Remus—? Harry felt humiliated and destroyed. How could he? And with Draco, of all people? Harry looked at Remus, wounded.
Remus let out a long breath. “I’m not giving you anything else. You’ve taken enough,” he said—to Draco.
“Fifty Galleons by Christmas or I tell Dumbledore!” Malfoy shouted.
Harry stared. “What do you mean, fifty Galleons? Are you . . . you’re blackmailing Remus, aren’t you?”
Draco gave him a condescending look. “And Potter finally catches up,” he drawled.
“I don’t have fifty Galleons,” Remus said quietly.
“Then you’d better find it, hadn’t you?” Malfoy replied. He turned and tried to walk out, but Harry blocked his path.
Harry might have been nude, but sheer fury gave him extra bravado. “Leave Remus the hell alone,” he ordered.
“Or what, Potter?”
“You remember that night up on the Astronomy Tower? You were the one who asked me to meet you there. I’m pretty sure you didn’t forget. It was only a few months ago, and by the way you gasped my name, you found it very memorable.”
A high colour infused Draco’s normally pale face. “You shut your mouth. That’s—that’s a lie! ”
“I’m pretty sure Colin Creevey’s camera doesn’t lie.”
The colour seemed to leave Draco’s face even faster than it got there. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you really think I’d meet with a Slytherin without some kind of security?” Harry sneered. “When you sent me the note, I thought you were going to try to lure me up there to hex me, not ask for a wank. If you had, I was going to show it to Dumbledore and have you expelled. But the wank was better, even though you were crap at it. If you ever say one word about me and Remus, I’ll give it to your father.”
Draco was silent for a long moment, trembling with rage. “Fine,” he eventually spat, his face twisted in a grimace. “Keep your pet werewolf. But people will find out eventually.” He spun on his heel and stormed away, so angry that Harry could practically see smoke coming out of his pointy ears.
Harry watched him go. This time, he was very careful to shut and lock the door behind him. He came and sat beside the man.
“Harry,” Remus breathed. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Harry let out a long breath, the tension finally draining from his body. “I had to.”
“You had Colin take pictures of—of a sexual encounter with Draco—on the Astronomy Tower?”
“What? No! Of course I didn’t. But I knew Draco would believe it.” Harry smiled at Remus’ expression. “He believed it because it was something he’d do.” Harry looked at Remus sadly. “I thought you hated me.”
Remus looked like he might cry. “I’m so sorry. I felt terrible, but I didn’t know what to do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And have you worry about it, too? I thought I was protecting you.” The man smiled a crooked smile. “I guess I should have remembered who’s the hero around here.”
“How much did you give him?” Harry asked, concerned. He felt awful. If he hadn’t been so impetuous, so horny, Draco wouldn’t have found out and none of this would have happened.
Rubbing his face, Remus replied, “Enough for a down payment on a new broom,” he said bitterly. “And enough to make a significant dent in my pocketbook. I’m sorry, Harry.” He sank down on the couch, shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t even get you a real Christmas gift.”
Harry sighed. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me,” he said. “That was all I really wanted.”
Looking up, Remus managed a smile. “There is something in my desk,” he said. Harry brightened, going over to the roll-top. “It isn’t much,” Remus cautioned. “Between you and Draco, I almost went bankrupt. But I couldn’t let Christmas pass without getting you something.”
Harry went over and rolled up the top of the desk and found a bunch of lollipops, all in eye-popping shades of purple and green and pink and tied with bright ribbons. He grinned. “Just what I wanted,” he said. He came back and stood beside Remus, smiling.
Remus didn’t say anything, but he looked guilty and hunted. “You know, fraternising with a student is not allowed, even one who’s of age,” he said.
“Fraternising, huh?” Harry said with an easy smile. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He felt like crowing when Remus turned pink again.
“Harry . . .”
Remus looked so tortured that Harry felt bad for teasing. “Do you want to stop seeing me?” he asked seriously. “I’ve put you through a lot, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to do this anymore.”
Remus looked at Harry for a long time, his eyes soft. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he admitted. He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what it is about you. I know I’m not the only one who feels it—I’ve overheard girls talking, and I’ve seen the boys looking at you. Even Draco Malfoy—don’t think for one moment that what he did was because of anything but jealousy. There’s something about you that’s very appealing. It can’t be just physical—though I doubt I’m the first person to ogle you whenever you wear jeans. And it’s not just that you’re cheeky and clever, or the fact that you’re beautiful.”
“It’s probably because I’m really good in bed,” Harry opined. “That sort of thing gets around.”
Remus smiled, but didn’t get sidetracked. “I think it’s your strength of character,” he said.
It was Harry’s turn to blush. He was really not at home with compliments like this, and tried to deflect again. “Sure,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a bloke on the street and just about threw myself on him just for that very reason. Single hottest trait,” he added lightly. “I’m always going, ‘Hey, wow, will you look at the strength of character on that one!’”
“Harry,” Remus scolded, but he was chuckling. “I mean it. You’re true to your friends and true to yourself, and it shows.”
“And you still want me?”
“I love you,” Remus said.
Harry beamed. He felt like he was glowing; he was so happy and light. “Me too,” he said.
Remus rose and cupped Harry’s face. “I’ll stop payments on Malfoy’s broomstick,” he said. “And start spending money on you,” he whispered, giving Harry a soft kiss.
Harry smiled against the man’s lips. “You don’t have to buy me things,” he said.
Remus looked surprised. “But I like buying you things.” He kissed Harry again. “I enjoy spoiling you the way you should be spoiled.”
“I know, but I don’t need things.” Harry kissed Remus back. “I just need you. But I’m glad you won’t be giving any more money to Malfoy.” Harry pulled one of the lollies from the ribbon and put it in his mouth, watching Remus’ eyes go wide. Harry smiled, sucking it slowly. When it was good and wet, Harry removed it from his mouth and drew the sticky sweet down the side of his neck. He trailed it down his nude body, Remus’ eyes following the sugary path. Harry shivered as he skated the lolly over his cock. He looked at Remus hungrily, feeling warmth flood his face and a prickle of lust start in his belly. “I’m really glad you’re not bankrupt because of me,” Harry said.
Remus pulled Harry close. His warm tongue met Harry’s throat, and he followed the path of the lolly with his mouth, falling to his knees. He looked up at Harry with a smile. “Only morally,” he replied before taking Harry into his mouth.
He didn’t sound remorseful at all.
Author:
the_con_ceptMy own prompt:
Kink Showcased: Younger person seducing older person.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Remus/Harry, mentions of past Harry/others
Summary: Harry enjoys flaunting his status as a teacher's pet in front of the other students. Remus is less enthusiastic about it.
Content Notes/Warnings: Teacher/student, AU, cross-dressing, oral sex and food!play. Though I didn’t give Harry an exact age, Harry is still in school and will likely read as underage.
Word Count: 8,500
Author's Notes: Beta read by the wonderful
demarafis. Title taken from A Poem About Honey, by Ted. I also made changes after my beta went through this, so all mistakes are definitely mine.Harry tapped his foot, watching Professor Lupin write about Chimaeras on the blackboard. “And Chimaera eggs are classified as . . . Class . . . A . . . Non-Tradable Goods,” Lupin said, finishing the ‘s’ with a flourish. He turned to face the class. “And I suggest you all make a note of it, because it will be on Friday’s quiz.” He looked at them sternly over the rims of his reading glasses.
The glasses were new, and held Harry in thrall. He found his own glasses nothing but a nuisance, but they made Professor Lupin seem at once sophisticated and unconsciously sexy. That, Harry thought, was one of the best things about Professor Lupin—he was completely oblivious to the “sexy school teacher” vibes he gave off.
Harry gave the man a flirtatious smile. Beneath his desktop, Harry traced a finger up the inside of his thigh. At that angle, only the professor could see what he was up to.
When the man noticed Harry wiggling in his seat and what his hands were doing beneath it, Professor Lupin got flustered and fumbled the chalk, juggling it from one hand to the other before dropping it on his desk. “And that’s . . . um . . . that’s . . . everything you need to know about Chimaeras,” he said weakly. He cleared his throat. “Class dismissed.”
As everyone else gathered their things and began to leave, Harry went straight to the front of the classroom. “Professor Lupin?” he said.
“Yes, Harry?” Remus replied, adjusting his glasses and focusing on his papers.
“I’m running a little late with my essay. I was wondering if I might have an extra day or two to work on it?” Harry said hopefully.
The professor looked up, surprised. “More time?”
Harry discreetly loosened his Gryffindor tie. “I promise I’m working very hard on it,” he said.
Remus’ eyes were fixed on Harry’s knuckles, watching his fingers tug at the knotted fabric. Harry flashed him a smile. The man blinked. “Well, ah, I guess—I mean, of course, Harry. Of course you can take an extra day. Or two,” he added hoarsely.
“Sodding teacher’s pet,” Harry heard Malfoy spit as he walked past.
Harry smiled sweetly at Malfoy and didn’t say a word.
Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “Harry is liked by his teachers because he works so hard and is pleasant to his classmates,” he told Malfoy. “If you made an effort, you’d be more popular as well.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Right,” he drawled, and flounced out of the room.
Harry beamed. “I like being teacher’s pet,” he told the professor.
“I’m not supposed to play favourites,” Remus began, but he stopped, smiling, as Harry tugged at his tie. It slid off his shoulder and crumpled onto the floor like a woman in a swoon. Remus sighed. “But you are my favourite,” he added helplessly.
“I really like your new reading glasses,” Harry informed him.
“You do?”
Harry hummed and nodded. “They make you look serious and intelligent. And sexy.” The professor reddened. “It’s hard to concentrate on my essay when I start thinking about how you look in your glasses,” Harry added boldly.
Remus glanced at the door to make sure no one was nearby. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he whispered. “Not in public.”
“But you like it,” Harry whispered back.
Remus couldn’t help but smile.
Harry laughed, turned and bent to pick up his tie, contriving to be as sexy as possible. He did hope Remus noticed how perky his bum was. When he straightened, the man was bright red. He’d noticed. “Right,” Harry said when Remus didn’t say anything. “Well. See you later.” Harry had to run to get to Charms on time, but that was all right. A few sweet minutes alone with his favourite professor was worth it.
“Why are you so late?” Hermione hissed at him in alarm as he slid into his seat.
Harry just grinned and shrugged.
“Ugh, it’s not another boy, is it?” Ron demanded. “You’ve already had two boyfriends this month.”
“This one’s different,” Harry insisted. “This one’s special.”
As Professor Flitwick dove into the lesson, literally (he was teaching the Cushioning Charm and jumping off his desk as a demonstration), Harry began to daydream. He’d become infatuated with Remus some time ago, during the Patronus lessons.
Remus had offered Harry white chocolate one day, in celebration—because Harry had faced the Boggart-Dementor three times and hadn’t fainted once—and had been consternated to hear that Harry had never tried white chocolate.
“The Dursleys were never generous with sweets,” Harry had commented with only a tinge of bitterness.
“You’ve never had white chocolate? You haven’t lived,” Remus had answered. Harry hadn’t been sure if he was serious, or just being silly.
The next day, Remus had bought Harry a whole box of chocolates, all with nougat and caramel and nuts and crème fillings. And it was in the shape of a heart.
“It was on sale,” Remus had insisted, reddening.
“Sale or not, it’s literally the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Harry had told him with a laugh.
“You deserve to be treated well,” Remus had told him gently.
And that, Harry had decided, was love.
After that, Harry had pursued the man. And Harry was nothing if not bold. He cornered him right after the next class, following the final student to the door, then closing it firmly behind him and locking it. He turned to Remus and screwed his courage to the sticking place. “Um,” he said.
“Harry?” Remus said blankly.
Harry swallowed. He had noticed the way Remus looked at him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking. It was so adoring and wistful. Harry was sure Remus wanted him too—but Remus would never be the first to say it. Harry needed to be brave about this. Firm. Nonchalant. “Um,” Harry repeated—but very nonchalantly, he hoped. “I have the most tremendous crush on you,” he blurted. “And I can’t stop thinking about it. I know it might not work out in the long run, but I . . . um, I was sort of hoping we might, at least short term, try . . . I don’t know, shagging like rabbits at every given opportunity?” he suggested.
Remus turned twelve shades of red. Harry could see him gulping for air. “Oh, dear,” the man said. But that wasn’t a no.
Harry let out a long, shaky breath. “I want you,” he said with feeling. Remus stared at him. “Do you . . . don’t you want me too?” The look Remus gave Harry was almost an answer in itself—it was full of such longing and hunger and heat.
“I . . . was under the impression you were already involved with someone,” Remus replied.
“I’m not involved with anyone.”
“I—I’m too old for you, in any case.” Remus mumbled.
“I notice you didn’t say no,” Harry pointed out.
“I should go.” Remus tried to march past him and out the door, but Harry caught a hand in his robes and, after a struggle, Remus gave up. Which, Harry felt, was probably a good analogy for their whole relationship.
“You can’t say no after you gave me that look,” Harry said reasonably. He looked at Remus with longing. The man was so sweet, so gentle, so in control all the time. Harry wanted to watch him lose control, to make him lose control. He had never wanted anything this much. “Please?”
Remus sighed. “Only a terrible person would put himself in a position of authority over a beautiful young boy and then take advantage of him,” he said.
“Okay,” Harry said after a moment. “How about I take advantage of you instead?” He got up on his tiptoes and kissed Remus softly.
Remus put his arms around Harry, pulled him close, and kissed him breathless. “I can’t resist you,” he admitted. “Your eyes, your mouth, the way you walk . . . the way you look at me as though you want to be devoured . . . I can’t give you much, Harry. But I will tell you that you’ll never want for kisses—or cheap chocolate,” he promised.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting to hear that my whole life,” Harry said. Harry began to unbutton his robes.
And Remus did not say no.
That, Harry felt, was the main thing about Remus—he could feel guilty about things and worry about things and try to reason with Harry, but he almost never actually said no—even to shoddy reasoning spouted by a randy teenage boy.
And that was fine with Harry. Harry didn’t mind being the bad boy, if it meant he got to keep Remus.
That weekend, Harry watched listlessly as Remus put together two cages. “I really think you’re going to like our next class, Harry. It’s quite rare to be able to catch a Diricrawl, and the spells needed to contain them, while not complicated, take quite a bit of maintenance.”
“Hmmm,” Harry replied. He rested his chin on the desk and huffed, watching the feathers of his quill ripple.
“There. Done.” Remus retrieved a large sack which shimmered from the spells placed on it, set it in the middle of one of the cages, and loosened the top. He shut the cage door, and after a few minutes the sack wriggled. A bedraggled, round, funny-looking bird poked his head out. “Now, watch this,” Remus instructed. He reached into the cage and poked the bird. With a tiny popping noise, like a soap bubble bursting, the Diricrawl vanished, immediately reappearing in the other cage. It looked around in surprise.
Harry half smiled at this.
Remus looked at him. “Harry, what’s wrong?” he said, coming to sit on Harry’s desk. “You haven’t been yourself today.”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just . . . nothing,” he sighed. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but he’d chosen to spend it with Remus. But Remus talked about nothing but schoolwork, and Harry felt frustrated. He wanted adventure. He wanted romance. He wanted a date.
What he did not want was disappearing Diricrawls. He didn’t want a lecture.
Harry became aware that Remus was looking at him. “What?”
“What if we—what if I—do you want to go to Hogsmeade? Together?” Remus suggested.
Harry suddenly sat up straight. “Really?” An afternoon in Hogsmeade with Remus would be wonderful. “Yes, please,” he managed.
Remus smiled.
They went from shop to shop in the cold, peering and pointing at various things. They visited Zonko’s and laughed at the various jokes, particularly a pair of dice that turned into mice and scurried away when you rolled them.
Harry took the opportunity to flirt as outrageously as he possibly could, laughing at Remus’ jokes, walking close enough to nudge him occasionally, and, of course, touching the man as much as he possibly could. He wasn’t subtle about it, brushing invisible lint from the man’s collar, tugging his hand when he didn’t walk quickly enough and nudging their hips together every time he could.
“Let me buy you a cup of cocoa,” Remus suggested.
“I’d like that,” Harry replied.
At the Three Broomsticks, they struggled out of their coats and cosied up at the bar, with Harry sitting as close to Remus as possible. Harry gave the man a sly, shy grin. “Thank you so much for this,” he said.
The man tried to hide his smile behind his mug. “It was nothing.”
“That’s not true. I think it’s sweet of you to buy me cocoa,” Harry told him.
“Anything else I can get you two?” Rosmerta asked.
“Not just now, thanks,” Remus told her.
The bartop was thick oak, dark and scarred from cups being banged into it. Harry traced a knot in the wood as he waited for Rosmerta to leave. Finally, a customer called to her from across the room. Beneath the bartop, Harry put his hand on Remus’ knee.
Remus promptly jerked, spilling his cocoa all over the place. He apologised profusely as he mopped up the mess.
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You could just tell me no if you wanted to,” he suggested.
“I wasn’t saying no,” Remus replied distractedly, still patting his shirt.
Harry grinned widely. He doubted the man had even really been paying attention to what he said, but Harry’d take it anyway. He put his hand back on Remus’ leg, thrilling when Remus blushed. He loved the effect he had on the man. The man’s shyness made Harry feel powerful and predatory.
“You want to go over to Gladrags?” he asked.
Remus looked surprised. “I . . . if you like. But I would have thought you’d rather visit Honeydukes,” he said.
Harry shrugged. “We can go there too, but I was thinking I could use, um, new robes,” he said.
“Well, if that’s what you want,” Remus said dubiously.
But the moment they entered Gladrags, Harry dragged Remus back to the private changing rooms. “Wait here,” Harry ordered. Remus protested, but Harry shoved him toward a chair and disappeared back into the shop, hunting quickly through the racks of robes before he found what he wanted.
When Harry returned, Remus was looking uncomfortable and a bit out of place—not unusual for someone waiting for a friend to finish shopping. “What are you—?”
“Hang on,” Harry told him, ducking behind a curtain. “I need your opinion on something.” He quickly stripped, wondering if Remus was watching his clothes as they were being discarded onto the floor. Harry was much more careful with the new outfit—it was delicate enough to rip if he wasn’t cautious. He slipped it on over his head, then slid up the matching stockings, carefully tying the red ribbons that trimmed the tops. When he was done, he admired himself in the mirror, turning a bit to try to see his body from all angles. It was cute, even if he said so himself.
Remus cleared his throat on the other side of the curtain.
Harry stifled a nervous giggle and smoothed his hair down. “Ready?” he purred.
“For . . .?”
“I need your opinion,” Harry replied. He inched the curtain open and peeked out. “Come here,” he said, crooking a finger.
Puzzled but obedient, Remus got up and came forward. He stopped short when he saw what Harry was wearing. “Harry,” he breathed.
“Don’t leave the curtain open!” Harry yelped. He grabbed the front of Remus’ robes and dragged the man forward, swishing the dark fabric curtain closed behind him. “I don’t want everyone to see me like this,” Harry admonished.
“I can’t begin to imagine why,” Remus said.
Harry could have walked on air. He really did think he looked pretty good; the white lace and red ribbon really worked against his pale skin and dark hair. “What do you think?” Harry asked hopefully. “I think it has a kind of Snow White thing going on.” He swished his hips a little, just for effect.
Remus swallowed. “Let me see it from the back,” he suggested.
Harry gave the man a flirty look over his shoulder as he turned. He preened when Remus groaned softly. He wasn’t sure what the man was seeing, exactly, but he could feel the soft white lace kissing his skin. It didn’t even cover his bum, really.
Harry turned. “So? What’s the verdict, professor?” he asked.
Remus reached out hesitantly and traced the lace trim with a finger. He let out a shaky breath. “It’s lovely,” he said. “You look . . . absolutely lovely.”
“Touch more,” Harry whispered.
Remus looked up, eyes ablaze. He didn’t say a word.
“Please?” Harry pleaded. He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t get Remus to touch him. He’d probably explode.
Remus smiled slowly. He wasn’t blushing or uncertain anymore. He looked cool and very in control. “Can you promise to be quiet if I touch you?” he asked. “We’re in an awfully public place.”
Harry bounced happily, clapping his hands. “I can. I will. I promise. Please?” He looked at Remus in adoration. “I’ve wanted it for so long!”
Looking only a little less stern, Remus circled him, brushing a hand over Harry’s thigh. Harry shivered, but kept still and quiet. This must have met Remus’ approval; he stopped behind Harry and lifted a hand to stroke Harry’s throat. Remus leaned down. “Good boy,” he whispered in Harry’s ear.
Harry whimpered softly, pressing a fist to his mouth.
Remus petted him, caressing his hair, his face, even running a thumb over his ear. Harry felt blissfully overwhelmed. This was so different from the hurried fumbling wanks he’d shared with a couple of classmates.
“Do you like this?” Remus murmured.
Harry nodded hard.
Smiling, Remus trailed a hand down Harry’s body, and Harry felt a tingling warmth spring up in its wake—his chest, his stomach, his—but then Remus pulled away.
Harry looked up at him in hurt and confusion.
“You’re so pretty, Harry,” Remus told him. “You asked me here to see you, didn’t you? Why don’t you give me a show?”
Harry flushed brightly, feeling lightheaded, all his bravado gone. Remus wanted him to masturbate in front of him. He suddenly felt so exposed. He literally got dizzy for a moment; he was so turned on.
Then Remus gave him a warm, encouraging smile, and Harry didn’t feel nearly as nervous. It was Remus. Remus had never been mean or cruel to Harry, so what was Harry worried about? He was safe. He was right where he wanted to be.
“Like this?” Harry said shyly, touching his neck.
“Mmhmm,” Remus agreed. “A little lower,” he instructed in a husky voice.
Harry started to touch himself the way he liked, the way he usually did in bed when he thought about Remus.
“Slowly,” Remus cautioned.
Harry swallowed a giggle and tried to go slower. He loved the way Remus was looking at him. He stroked his hands up and down his torso, then spread his hand over his thigh. He could feel the lace and silky ribbon and warmth of his skin. And the way Remus stared at his fingers only made the flesh beneath them grow warmer and tinglier.
Biting his lip, Harry dragged his hand up, fondling himself through the fabric. Remus let out a soft noise which Harry couldn’t help but echo. He manipulated himself to hardness, his breath coming in quick little pants as Remus watched. He wanted so badly to please the man.
“Show me,” Remus begged.
Harry got a delicious shiver up his spine. He flipped up the lacy hem, exposing himself. He was clean shaven and very, very hard. He started to stroke himself—first gently, then with increasing urgency. There was something about Remus watching him that made his gut tighten, warmth building in his stomach.
“Look at you,” Remus murmured. “I had no idea you were such a little exhibitionist. That’s it . . . a little more . . .”
“Remus,” Harry moaned. “Please.”
Remus stroked his face. “What do you want?”
Harry almost couldn’t talk. He felt feral, out of control—desperate. “Please touch me,” he croaked.
Remus kissed him—a real kiss, open mouthed and skillful, fondling Harry’s tongue with his own. It was so intimate and sexual.
Harry was jolted into climax. He wasn’t expecting to orgasm just then, but he couldn’t help it. Remus reached down and took Harry’s hand and prick in his fist, milking him until Harry was utterly spent. Harry fell into the man’s arms. He was exhausted.
Remus patted his head. “Feel better?”
“Oh, my, god,” Harry whimpered.
Remus laughed softly. He gathered Harry into his arms. “Thank you,” he said.
“What did I do?” Harry replied.
“You did all the hard work,” Remus told him. “And you were beautiful. That was . . . special.”
Harry pulled back and gave him a shy smile. “I really like the lace,” he confessed.
“So do I!”
Harry laughed. “I’m going to feel guilty putting it back. Even using a cleaning charm, it’ll seem weird.”
Remus looked at the price tag and gave a low whistle. “Well . . .” He seemed to give this some thought. “You know what?” he finally said. “It’s yours.”
“What? You’re buying it for me?”
“You’re worth it,” Remus said. “And you do look very pretty.”
Harry must have looked stunned, because Remus immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I—I—it’s just that nobody’s ever bought anything for me before. I mean, like this. Well, obviously nothing like this, but . . . just . . . thank you. It really means a lot to me. Thank you.” Harry couldn’t seem to stop saying it. No boy had ever given him anything before, apart from a messy spot on his robes during a tryst after dinner. Actual lingerie was something he’d never dreamed of.
Remus smiled. “I hope you will let me see you wear it again,” he said.
Harry threw his arms around the man. “Definitely.”
Remus kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Then it’s a good investment,” he said.
“This isn’t a good time, Harry,” Remus said when Harry opened his door. “I need to have these assignments graded by tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Harry came in anyway. He had only been invited into Remus’ chambers once, but found them rather restful. Most of the furnishings belonged to the castle—the massive roll-top desk, the lumpy couch, the gilded mirror on the wall—but there were touches of Remus, too. He had a patchwork quilt folded on the back of the couch, his own set of tea cups, and a Michaelangelo print hanging above the fireplace that Harry suspected was chosen as much for the nude male subject matter as much as it was for the artistic value.
He flopped out on the couch, taking out a magazine and began reading it.
Remus gave him a look.
“I’ll be good,” Harry promised. “I just want to be with you.”
The man’s face softened. He opened a drawer on his desk. “Here, I bought something for you.”
Harry sat up eagerly. Remus was forever buying him little things, and Harry loved the attention. “What is it?” he asked.
Remus laughed. “It’s nothing much, Harry,” he said rather ruefully. “Just a sweet. Nothing expensive.”
Harry plucked the little stick out of Remus’ fingers. “Honeydukes’ Honeysticks,” he read. “Thank you!” He had seen them before—for the price of a Knut you got a little tube of flavoured honey. He bit off the end and grinned at Remus.
“I’m glad you like it,” Remus told him dryly. “Now be quiet for a bit, scamp, so I can concentrate.”
Harry obligingly flopped down on the couch and went back to his magazine. It was ostensibly about Wizarding Rock and had an article about the Weird Sisters, but it was almost all advertisements. Harry didn’t really mind. He was fascinated by the pinching alarm clocks and singing posters. He wanted everything.
“Wow, look at this,” Harry said suddenly, sitting up and forgetting his promise. “This bed set is really wild!” He read aloud, “In eye-popping shades of purple and green, with pillows in candy-coated shades of pink, this set is all the rage with the teen crowd. I—” Harry looked up and stopped when he saw Remus’ exasperated face. “Sorry.”
“It sounds gaudy,” Remus muttered, going back to his work.
“But fun! I can’t help it; I like bright colours. Comes from being locked in a dreary closet in my formative years, I think,” Harry replied.
Remus set his quill down, looking stricken.
“It’s okay,” Harry said quickly. “Really, don’t worry about it. I don’t think about it at all anymore.”
“Come here and let me give you a kiss anyway,” Remus told him.
Harry jumped up and did as he was told enthusiastically, coming to sit on Remus’ lap. “Sex away all my terrible memories,” he suggested.
Remus laughed. “All you’re getting for now is one kiss,” he told him. “I have to finish these papers.” In spite of his unsociable words, the kiss he gave Harry was steamy, long, and soft and sensual. Remus kept up the kiss until Harry was a squirming, overheated mess. Remus chuckled against Harry’s lips. “That’s enough for now,” he murmured, pulling away.
Harry moaned in disappointment. “That wasn’t nice.”
“Self-control,” Remus replied absently. He went back to his grading and Harry went back to the couch, but he had a hard time focusing on his magazine.
“How much longer?” he asked in a plaintive voice after several minutes.
“Not too much longer,” Remus promised.
Harry chewed on the Honeystick and pouted. He was terribly randy now and Remus wasn’t paying any attention to him. He curled up, resting his chin on the arm of the couch and studied the man. Remus wasn’t wearing robes but an old tweed Muggle outfit with patches on the elbows. Inexplicably, this only made Harry feel more aroused. There was something prim about the man that begged to be mussed and molested.
Harry whimpered. “How much longer?” he asked again.
“Five more papers,” Remus replied without looking up.
Harry huffed. Then he got an idea. He toed off his trainers and pulled off his socks. Then he began to wiggle out of his shirt. He looked over at Remus. The man’s eyes were fixed resolutely on his paperwork, but the shadow of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Getting ready to stay awhile, are we?” he asked.
Harry came over and knelt beside him.
Remus looked at him.
“Don’t worry,” Harry said sweetly. “You don’t have to stop your paperwork yet.” He touched Remus’ knee. When this was not met with instant disapproval, he scooted closer. There was already room for Harry between Remus’ legs, so Harry nestled between them and nuzzled his face against the inside of Remus’ thigh. He heard the man’s breath catch. Harry was just sure Remus would tell him to stop, so he paused a moment.
“You’d better not get honey all over my trousers,” was all Remus remarked.
Harry hid a smile. “Not on your trousers, I promise,” he purred. He rubbed his face against the tweed, wondering if Remus could feel his hot breath through the thick cloth. The man could apparently feel something, as a distinct tent was beginning to rise in the crotch of the man’s trousers.
Harry thrilled at this. Remus let him have his way an awful lot of the time, and Harry enjoyed pushing the limits. He licked a long path up the front of Remus’ slacks, ignoring the scratchy, unpleasant feel of the fabric.
Remus groaned, his hand dropping to cup Harry’s head. “I still have four papers left,” he rasped.
“I’m not stopping you,” Harry pointed out, looking as innocent as possible.
Remus looked skeptical, but amused. “Then what are you doing?” he asked.
Harry kissed the bulge in Remus’ trousers. “I’m just getting you ready,” he murmured. “You can keep working,” he added.
Remus looked at him for a long moment, then bent his head to his paperwork again. Oho! Harry thought with a wicked smile. So we’re playing that game, are we? Harry didn’t mind a bit. He liked trying to make Remus lose his cool. Instead of being upset at getting ignored, Harry began to rub Remus through his trousers. He could feel the stiff outline of the man’s prick, and it hardened further at his manipulations.
Remus still had his hand on Harry’s head, and he guided Harry’s face back to his crotch. Obviously, he wasn’t as excited by the idea of Harry wanking him as he was at oral sex. Harry giggled, rubbing his face flagrantly against the front of the man’s slacks.
Remus made a soft noise. His quill was no longer making scratching sounds against the paper, and his hips kept shifting as he tried to subtly rut against Harry’s face.
Emboldened, Harry reached up and unfastened the man’s trousers, smiling as the button popped free from the hole. It took a few moments to work Remus’ cock out of his pants. The man pretended to be indifferent, but his breath was coming faster.
Smiling, Harry lightly scratched the Honeystick up the man’s shaft. He liked the sharp intake of breath this caused, so he did it again.
“Harry,” Remus said.
“You know . . . Honeysticks are nice, but it’s not at all what I’m craving,” Harry said casually. Eyes locked on Remus’, he squeezed every last drop of honey out, drizzling it over the man’s rigid cock.
Remus looked down at him, his gaze intense and narrow and full of the promise of sex. He traced his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. “I do try to give you what you want,” he growled.
He pushed the head of his penis into Harry’s mouth. “Mmm,” Harry said, eyes falling shut. He let Remus fuck his mouth, obediently trying to take as much as he could when the man’s hand tightened in his hair.
To Harry’s surprise, the act of sucking, the suffocating prick filling his mouth, the taste of salty sweat and sticky honey making his tongue prickle and his belly fill with warmth—it was all incredibly erotic, and he couldn’t help but rub himself through his jeans. He had only tried this once, and hadn’t been at all impressed the first time. This was much sexier and more exciting than he’d expected, especially when Remus began instructing him in how to do it better.
“That’s right,” the man told him, his normally mild voice taking on an edge. “Take it, Harry. Take it deeper. Suck it.”
Harry whimpered. He was going to come he was going to come—Oh, Merlin.
“Suck it hard, Harry. Suck it harder,” Remus groaned.
Harry loved the sound of Remus’ voice.
Remus reached down and cupped Harry’s chin, holding him in place. Harry looked up, compliant, letting Remus use him, use his mouth. He was wildly turned on by this—too . He half-wanted Remus to boss him about and tell him what a bad, naughty boy he was, but at the same time he wanted to please Remus, wanted petting and praise.
Before he could make up his mind, Remus grunted, and a hot splash of come flooded Harry’s mouth. Harry continued to suck, the man’s prick now slippery and pulsing against his tongue.
Remus’ face was flushed, his eyes tightly shut. He continued to fuck Harry’s mouth until he was entirely spent, then suddenly stopped, backing away.
Harry coughed a little, wiping his face. “Wow,” he commented.
Remus was slack in his chair. “Wow,” he echoed. He looked down at Harry in concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t go all honourable on me after you let me give you head.”
The man reddened. “I . . . should have at least warned you, or asked you if you were okay with me, um, climaxing in your mouth.”
Harry grinned. “It’s fine. It was good.” Remus reached down and stroked his face. Harry nuzzled his hand, then stood up. “I should go,” he said.
Remus looked amazed as Harry went and got his shirt and started getting dressed. “What about you?”
“You have papers to grade,” Harry said lightly. He wouldn’t have admitted for a thousand Galleons that he’d already came in his pants. He’d rather that Remus think he was cool and had some kind of self-control. He’d rather Remus think he was just really generous and wanted to get him off without any reciprocation needed.
“I see,” Remus said, all too knowingly for Harry’s taste.
Harry wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue. Remus laughed. Harry relented. He liked Remus’ laugh. It was warm and round and gentle. He went back to the man’s chair and bent to kiss him. “Finish grading your papers,” he said.
Remus stroked Harry’s head softly, ruffling his hair. “It was good,” he said, “But you know what? Next time will be even better.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah?”
“Next time will be on a new purple and green and candy-coated pink bedspread,” the man promised.
Harry laughed and threw his arms around the man.
“Everyone turn in your assignments.”
As always, Harry lingered. He knew Professor Flitwick was becoming exasperated with his frequent tardiness, but he didn’t care. He gathered his books and papers as slowly as he could, waiting for everyone to leave. When the last person was out the door, he finally sauntered to the front of the room. “Hey,” he said.
Remus was distracted, trying to get all the freshly-handed-in assignments in order. “Hello,” he said.
Feeling frisky, Harry leant over the desk and managed to kiss Remus on the corner of his mouth. Flustered, Remus dropped everything.
“I’m really sorry,” Harry said shyly. “Are you angry with me?”
Remus looked startled. “I’m not—I’m not angry with you, Harry,” he assured him. “Really, I’m not. It’s just—you ought to at least close the door—”
Harry laughed. “Sorry. Next time I promise I’ll shut the door before I molest you.”
The man smiled back. “You’re going to be late for Charms again,” he pointed out.
Harry sighed. “I know. I just feel like every second I spend with you is a good second, and every second I spend watching Seamus Finnegan accidentally blow something up isn’t such a great second.”
Remus laughed. “That’s got to be an exaggeration. Surely by now he has some sort of control.”
“Last week he did. He was supposed to be doing a Chilling Charm and he blew up his textbook.” Harry shrugged. “I think he’s just not very good at Charms.”
Remus laughed again. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”
Harry lit up. “So romantic! Will you carry my books, too?”
“No, but I’ll levitate them for you,” Remus offered.
“It’s a deal.” Harry felt like he was levitating himself as they headed for the Charms corridor. “Can we hold hands?” he asked. “No one is watching.”
Remus cleared his throat. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“So . . . Christmas is coming up fast,” Remus remarked. “What are you hoping for?”
Harry looked at him slyly. “Are you offering to buy me something?” he asked. “Since you’re my boyfriend, you should get me something extravagant. The amount of money you spend on me is direct proof of how much you love me,” he teased.
“A paper bag to put over your head would be my favourite,” a voice behind them drawled. They turned to see Malfoy sneering at them. “Though it would probably stretch Lupin’s budget.”
Harry glowered at him. “Malfoy, you’re just jealous,” he began, but Remus stopped him.
The man put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” he ordered. Harry could feel his hand shaking, though. “Ignore him.”
“I had wondered why you were top of the class in Defense. I guess you’re learning a lot from all the extra help you get,” Draco said.
Harry narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t leave this minute, I’ll demonstrate everything I know about the Dark Arts—on you. And we’ll just see if you’re really more skilled in Defense than I am.”
“Please, Potter,” Draco said witheringly, but when Harry raised his wand a little, he backed off and left.
“He might tell someone,” Remus murmured.
Harry gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “He won’t. Trust me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I have my reasons,” Harry promised.
A couple of days later, Harry received a package at breakfast. He managed to wait until after classes were done to unwrap it. “Fantastic,” he said as he unfurled it. It looked like a sweet shop had exploded.
“Who sent you that?” Ron asked, looking disgusted.
Harry just grinned.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Another one?”
“Same one as last time you asked, actually,” Harry said breezily.
“Must be serious!”
“Serious enough.”
Ron raised his eyebrows. “I dunno, mate. Hard to take anything seriously with you running about getting clown-coloured duvets,” he teased.
“Clown-coloured!?” Harry exclaimed. “It is not! It’s . . . modern.”
“It’s ugly,” Seamus broke in.
“I think it’s kind of brilliant, actually,” Dean Thomas opined after studying the thing for a few minutes through narrowed eyes. “Really modern.”
Seamus turned to Neville, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed and reading a book on baleful botany. “What do you think?” Seamus asked.
Neville looked uncomfortable. “It’s okay,” he said.
Seamus gave him a look. “What do you really think?” he demanded.
Neville shrugged at Harry apologetically. “If colours made noise, that blanket would be screaming to be put out of its misery,” he said.
Harry drew himself up in mock offense. “Well, fine,” he announced. He threw the blanket over his shoulders, like a king putting on an ermine-trimmed robe. “Since we are obviously unappreciated, my fashionable friend and I will just sleep elsewhere tonight.” He turned and marched out of the room.
“He’s such a twit whenever he meets a new bloke,” he heard Ron say with a sigh.
Never mind, he thought. I know someone who appreciates me even when I’m silly. A few minutes later, he knocked on Remus’ door. “Guess what the owl dragged in,” he called.
Silence.
Harry knocked louder. “Remus? I got that bedspread you ordered. Come on, open up and we can play on it. Remus?” Harry knocked again, but got no response. Confused, Harry knocked a few more times, then went back to Gryffindor Tower.
Why hadn’t Remus answered? Was he sick? In the infirmary, even? It wasn’t full moon yet, and Remus would have owled if he wasn’t feeling well.
“What’s up, mate?” Ron said as he entered the dorm. “Thought you had a date.”
Harry sank down on the bed as the realisation struck him. “I think I’ve been stood up,” he answered.
“Where were you last night?” Harry demanded as soon as Defense class ended.
Remus flinched, then looked angry. “Mind how you talk to me,” he said snappishly. “I am your professor, and you should treat me with respect—especially in class,” he added, looking at the other students nervously as they exited.
Harry was taken aback. Remus had almost never been angry with him before. “What’s the—” he stopped when the man shot him a look. Harry ground his teeth, waiting for the room to clear. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered when the last one finally left. “I didn’t say anything inappropriate!”
Remus stacked the papers on his desk, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “You need to be more careful,” he said.
“Whatever,” Harry replied angrily. “Why did you stand me up?”
“I did not stand you up. I don’t recall making any plans with you last night.”
“Aha! You knew I was talking about last night. You were there when I knocked on your door! Why didn’t you answer?” Harry demanded.
Remus grabbed him by the arm. “This is not the time or place to discuss things like that,” he said. “Come along,” he added, steering Harry to the door.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked.
“You are not going to be late to Charms again,” Remus told him firmly.
“We can’t talk privately on the way to Charms,” Harry complained.
“No, we can’t,” Remus responded.
Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say a thing, the man shut the door in his face—and a scraping sound from the knob told Harry he’d locked it.
Harry gasped. No one had ever broken things off with him—he’d always been the one to walk away. And he’d certainly never had anyone shut the door in his face!
Fuming, he stormed off to Charms. Who the hell did Remus think he was, anyway?
The next afternoon, Harry sat slumped in his chair in the Great Hall, glaring at his food.
“Are you still hurt over being stood up?” Ron asked.
“I’m not hurt,” Harry grunted. “I’m furious.” He flicked a pea as hard as he could.
“Harry,” Hermione reprimanded. “Listen, I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but I don’t want to have to change robes because you were in a foul mood, flicking things at me.”
“I’m not hurt,” Harry repeated. But no matter how many times he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d gone again to Remus’ chambers that night, but Remus had insisted he was much too busy to talk. He’d apologised, but Harry knew something wasn’t right. Harry looked at Hermione imploringly. “What would you do in my situation?” he asked.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, softening. She patted his shoulder. “I’d probably get thoroughly angry and do something rude,” she admitted.
This didn’t solve Harry’s dilemma, but somehow it did make him feel better.
“Buck up,” Ron suggested. “I know you; you’ll have a new bloke before the week’s out.”
“Hi, Harry,” Colin Creevey chirped as he passed. He gave Harry a dreamy look and Harry ducked his head uncomfortably.
“Hi, Colin,” he mumbled.
“You should ask Colin out,” Hermione suggested.
“What?” Harry whispered in alarm. “He looks like he’s about six years old!”
“He’s not that bad,” Hermione replied. “And you know he’s got a mad crush on you.”
“Hermione,” Harry groaned.
Just then, a shout went up from the Slytherin table. “Good on you, Malfoy!” Harry heard someone say.
Malfoy was looking even more unbearably smug than usual. A package had came for him and he’d just unwrapped it at the table. “It’s the latest Falcon—the 5000 series,” he boasted. “It’s not even on the market yet,” he confided in a whisper clearly meant to carry. “Note the silver embellishments on the handle.”
Harry turned away, uninterested in Malfoy or his new broomstick. Malfoy, however, wouldn’t be ignored.
“Like my new stick, Potter?” he asked. “It’s bigger than yours, and it handles better, too.”
“Clear off, Malfoy,” Ron snarled.
“No one’s impressed with Daddy’s little trinkets anymore,” Harry informed him coldly.
Malfoy put a hand on his hip. “Oh, this isn’t from my father,” he said. “It’s from a special someone.” He gave Harry a sticky smile. “I guess someone must like me. What about you, Potter? I notice you’re rather lacking in the flowers and chocolates department these days.”
“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Harry growled, face red.
Draco sauntered away, laughing softly.
Great. Now on top of everything else, he’d let Malfoy get a rise out of him. Harry looked to the front of the hall, but Remus quickly averted his eyes. Harry heaved a sigh.
He was having the worst day of his life.
Finally, Harry had had enough. It had been weeks since Remus had last kissed him, let alone done anything racier. Worst of all, it was almost Christmas and Harry felt abandoned and unwanted. He was miserable. He’d even let Hermione set him up, and that had only confirmed what he had suspected—he wanted Remus Lupin. No one else would do.
Steeling himself, Harry took a long look in the mirror. His hair was artfully mussed. His lips had just the slightest hint of gloss. He’d practiced a sexy moue and a sultry lick along his teeth. And most of all, he was completely naked under the invisibility cloak. He was going to make one last impassioned plea for Remus’ affections. If that didn’t work, well . . . it had to work.
He crept out of the loo, looked around and made sure the coast was clear. It was near midnight, and no one else was about.
Some of the portraits stirred and rubbed their eyes or peered suspiciously down the dark hall as he passed, but none of them raised an alarm. Remus’ chambers were straight ahead.
Harry took a deep breath. The door was open—he wouldn’t even have to use a charm! Harry strode right up and threw off his cloak. “Remus,” he said. “I know you—”
“Potter? Are you naked? Merlin, that is truly pathetic,” Malfoy sneered.
Harry felt dizzy. Remus was slumped on the couch, with Draco standing imperiously in front of him. Why was Draco there? Was he—with Remus—? Harry felt humiliated and destroyed. How could he? And with Draco, of all people? Harry looked at Remus, wounded.
Remus let out a long breath. “I’m not giving you anything else. You’ve taken enough,” he said—to Draco.
“Fifty Galleons by Christmas or I tell Dumbledore!” Malfoy shouted.
Harry stared. “What do you mean, fifty Galleons? Are you . . . you’re blackmailing Remus, aren’t you?”
Draco gave him a condescending look. “And Potter finally catches up,” he drawled.
“I don’t have fifty Galleons,” Remus said quietly.
“Then you’d better find it, hadn’t you?” Malfoy replied. He turned and tried to walk out, but Harry blocked his path.
Harry might have been nude, but sheer fury gave him extra bravado. “Leave Remus the hell alone,” he ordered.
“Or what, Potter?”
“You remember that night up on the Astronomy Tower? You were the one who asked me to meet you there. I’m pretty sure you didn’t forget. It was only a few months ago, and by the way you gasped my name, you found it very memorable.”
A high colour infused Draco’s normally pale face. “You shut your mouth. That’s—that’s a lie! ”
“I’m pretty sure Colin Creevey’s camera doesn’t lie.”
The colour seemed to leave Draco’s face even faster than it got there. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you really think I’d meet with a Slytherin without some kind of security?” Harry sneered. “When you sent me the note, I thought you were going to try to lure me up there to hex me, not ask for a wank. If you had, I was going to show it to Dumbledore and have you expelled. But the wank was better, even though you were crap at it. If you ever say one word about me and Remus, I’ll give it to your father.”
Draco was silent for a long moment, trembling with rage. “Fine,” he eventually spat, his face twisted in a grimace. “Keep your pet werewolf. But people will find out eventually.” He spun on his heel and stormed away, so angry that Harry could practically see smoke coming out of his pointy ears.
Harry watched him go. This time, he was very careful to shut and lock the door behind him. He came and sat beside the man.
“Harry,” Remus breathed. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Harry let out a long breath, the tension finally draining from his body. “I had to.”
“You had Colin take pictures of—of a sexual encounter with Draco—on the Astronomy Tower?”
“What? No! Of course I didn’t. But I knew Draco would believe it.” Harry smiled at Remus’ expression. “He believed it because it was something he’d do.” Harry looked at Remus sadly. “I thought you hated me.”
Remus looked like he might cry. “I’m so sorry. I felt terrible, but I didn’t know what to do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And have you worry about it, too? I thought I was protecting you.” The man smiled a crooked smile. “I guess I should have remembered who’s the hero around here.”
“How much did you give him?” Harry asked, concerned. He felt awful. If he hadn’t been so impetuous, so horny, Draco wouldn’t have found out and none of this would have happened.
Rubbing his face, Remus replied, “Enough for a down payment on a new broom,” he said bitterly. “And enough to make a significant dent in my pocketbook. I’m sorry, Harry.” He sank down on the couch, shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t even get you a real Christmas gift.”
Harry sighed. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me,” he said. “That was all I really wanted.”
Looking up, Remus managed a smile. “There is something in my desk,” he said. Harry brightened, going over to the roll-top. “It isn’t much,” Remus cautioned. “Between you and Draco, I almost went bankrupt. But I couldn’t let Christmas pass without getting you something.”
Harry went over and rolled up the top of the desk and found a bunch of lollipops, all in eye-popping shades of purple and green and pink and tied with bright ribbons. He grinned. “Just what I wanted,” he said. He came back and stood beside Remus, smiling.
Remus didn’t say anything, but he looked guilty and hunted. “You know, fraternising with a student is not allowed, even one who’s of age,” he said.
“Fraternising, huh?” Harry said with an easy smile. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He felt like crowing when Remus turned pink again.
“Harry . . .”
Remus looked so tortured that Harry felt bad for teasing. “Do you want to stop seeing me?” he asked seriously. “I’ve put you through a lot, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to do this anymore.”
Remus looked at Harry for a long time, his eyes soft. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he admitted. He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what it is about you. I know I’m not the only one who feels it—I’ve overheard girls talking, and I’ve seen the boys looking at you. Even Draco Malfoy—don’t think for one moment that what he did was because of anything but jealousy. There’s something about you that’s very appealing. It can’t be just physical—though I doubt I’m the first person to ogle you whenever you wear jeans. And it’s not just that you’re cheeky and clever, or the fact that you’re beautiful.”
“It’s probably because I’m really good in bed,” Harry opined. “That sort of thing gets around.”
Remus smiled, but didn’t get sidetracked. “I think it’s your strength of character,” he said.
It was Harry’s turn to blush. He was really not at home with compliments like this, and tried to deflect again. “Sure,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a bloke on the street and just about threw myself on him just for that very reason. Single hottest trait,” he added lightly. “I’m always going, ‘Hey, wow, will you look at the strength of character on that one!’”
“Harry,” Remus scolded, but he was chuckling. “I mean it. You’re true to your friends and true to yourself, and it shows.”
“And you still want me?”
“I love you,” Remus said.
Harry beamed. He felt like he was glowing; he was so happy and light. “Me too,” he said.
Remus rose and cupped Harry’s face. “I’ll stop payments on Malfoy’s broomstick,” he said. “And start spending money on you,” he whispered, giving Harry a soft kiss.
Harry smiled against the man’s lips. “You don’t have to buy me things,” he said.
Remus looked surprised. “But I like buying you things.” He kissed Harry again. “I enjoy spoiling you the way you should be spoiled.”
“I know, but I don’t need things.” Harry kissed Remus back. “I just need you. But I’m glad you won’t be giving any more money to Malfoy.” Harry pulled one of the lollies from the ribbon and put it in his mouth, watching Remus’ eyes go wide. Harry smiled, sucking it slowly. When it was good and wet, Harry removed it from his mouth and drew the sticky sweet down the side of his neck. He trailed it down his nude body, Remus’ eyes following the sugary path. Harry shivered as he skated the lolly over his cock. He looked at Remus hungrily, feeling warmth flood his face and a prickle of lust start in his belly. “I’m really glad you’re not bankrupt because of me,” Harry said.
Remus pulled Harry close. His warm tongue met Harry’s throat, and he followed the path of the lolly with his mouth, falling to his knees. He looked up at Harry with a smile. “Only morally,” he replied before taking Harry into his mouth.
He didn’t sound remorseful at all.
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***Mod here
Date: 2012-02-13 09:23 pm (UTC)Could I also ask you to post your story here in this community for this fest as well as in your personal LJ? Thank you. ♥
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