TITLE: Extra, Extra curricular

AUTHOR:

PAIRING: Harry/Remus

RATING: PG-13

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated, feel free to send to the above address, or whatever.

DISCLAIMER: Belongs to JKR. No profit. No infringement etc.

SUMMARY: Remus agrees to continue to teach Harry defense, although he is no longer Harry's teacher. Set after OotP.

CATEGORY: Ficcle, 496 words

BETAS: ShadowPhoenix The Bloody Magnificent

NOTES: Written for Godlessharlot's 'Ficcle' challenge. And might I add that I worship the ground everythingIsaid walks on, for that unbelievable list. It is solely the reason I am likely to be fired tomorrow for having done absolutely nothing productive since it came out.

Extra, Extracurricular

When Harry first approached Remus that summer, the man was apprehensive—but tried hard to be gracious. Harry had been quiet—far too quiet, far too withdrawn, far too alone—since Sirius's death. Remus supposed he was feeling rather alone, himself. So he didn't say no to Harry's request, not right away.

"I'm sure whoever takes over the Defense position is going to be just as horrible as ever. Remus. If I don't learn something, I'm going to die. We are all. Going. To. Die." He looked anxiously at the man, eyes wide behind those strangely childish glasses.

Remus sighed. He wanted to refuse, he really did. He wanted to tell Harry he was being immature and melodramatic, but everything Harry said was probably true. In the end, all he said was, "I'll speak with the Headmaster, and see what he thinks."

A few days later, he returned with the words, "Albus said I have his blessing to assist you in your extracurricular activities."

The smile that broke across Harry's face washed over him like a fresh breeze, invigorating and cheering him. It almost made it worth getting out of bed, it really did.

The first kiss was…an accident. A curse had ricocheted and caught Remus in the arm; when he came to, the youth was kneeling over him, whimpering and cradling his head. The werewolf gently extracted himself and sat up, patting Harry awkwardly on the shoulder.

Harry sobbed, words pouring from his mouth, things Remus had never thought to hear; a torrent of guilt and self-loathing and worry and helplessness, intertwined so delicately with words of need and acceptance and love. The werewolf petted the boy gently, and when Harry looked up with that expression of Gryffindor stupidity blended seamlessly with Gryffindor stubbornness and his own unique loss and hurt, Remus had gone in blindly, finding the youth's lips with his own.

The second kiss was not an accident. Several days had passed since the first incident, and they were wrapping up the lesson when Harry was suddenly before him, eyes alight with desire and hair glowing from the lamp behind him, its tips touched with gold—a vision as though he were some sort of angel. And then they kissed.

But the third kiss…in Remus's bedroom, in Grimmauld Place, alone in the house, surrounded by the memory of Sirius…Remus had pulled away. He pushed Harry back, shaking his head and whispering, "No. We—mustn't. Dumbledore would—"

"—be very pleased," Harry finished, looking smug. "He knew perfectly well how I felt about you. You were lonely. I was hurting. We're fixing each other. That's what matters."

The muffled noise Remus made when Harry tackled him and smothered Remus's mouth with his own was touched with amusement. It wasn't right, but then again, neither was anything else. And later, when Harry came to rest with his head on Remus's chest, Harry thought he heard, through the mantel of sleepiness, "…extracurricular activities, my arse."

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I'm not sure I've got the hang of writing shorter stories yet. Well, bear with me, their bound to bet better, right? Right?

Starry