***
The food at Hogwarts was just as tasty as in his own time, Harry gratefully acknowledged as he filled his plate with a third helping of suet pudding and custard. Gorging himself might not be a proven device for travelling into the future, but it certainly made him feel better.
“At least your appetite’s not been affected,” Remus said, commenting yet again on Harry’s un-Sirius-like behaviour.
Remus grinned and gave Harry another one of those ‘odd’ looks. Harry didn’t know how else to describe them. He had seen Remus and Sirius share similar looks at Grimmauld Place, and hadn’t thought anything of them at the time. But it was another thing entirely to have that intense gaze directed straight at him.
He had always assumed that James and Sirius had the closest friendship out of the four marauders, not unlike his friendship with Ron. But in the short time that Harry had been stuck in the past, it was clear that Remus was just as comfortable around Sirius as James was, if not more so. For some reason that Harry couldn’t yet fathom, this left him feeling rather uneasy. And while Remus had been friendly enough towards Harry during the lesson, James had had his attentions directed elsewhere. Towards Lily, and quite unsuccessfully, it seemed.
Harry’s mum was just as outspoken as she had been in the memory in Snape’s pensieve, constantly biting back at James’s lurid remarks and leaving Harry wondering why his dad hadn’t given up long before. It also left him feeling tangled inside to see his mum and dad so close and yet so far away from him personally; it wasn’t as if he could talk to them as himself, and this was starting to grate on his nerves. But no matter how tempted he was to try another tack—to approach Lily and have a private conversation so he could find out more about her—he knew it would be a bad idea. He wasn’t being such a convincing Sirius as it was.
His Transfigurations skills were atrocious, for a start—and much worse than usual, despite having received an 'E' for his Transfiguration OWL nearly two years previously. Harry could only ascribe this to having to use Sirius’s wand. And what was worse than just losing some of his ability, he didn’t have anywhere near the skill that the others expected Sirius to have. The lesson had been punctuated by a good deal of ribbing by James and Remus, and McGonagall had seemed very disappointed with his work in class. Peter had been the only one to show him any sort of sympathy, which was another twist for Harry to get his head around.
Although Peter idolised James much more than was healthy—leading him to blindly agree with all suggestions that James made, however idiotic some of them were—he came across as far more concerned about Sirius’s wellbeing than Harry expected. He asked Harry if he was feeling ill and if he wanted to borrow his notes after the lesson. The whole time that James was trying to impress Lily, Peter was more than happy to make companionable conversation, and Harry did his best to respond in kind, fighting the urge to either throw up in disgust or hex Peter on the spot.
Because Harry had been late for the lesson, he had received a detention, which was to be taken the following Wednesday lunchtime. This wasn’t too much of a problem, as Harry knew that Sirius and James had a reputation for getting into trouble. But James had an issue with Harry’s lack of an attempt to get out of it. Apparently, Sirius would always do his best to get out of the punishment by charming the teacher concerned, despite the fact that he was usually unsuccessful on this front. Even if Harry had known this, there was no way he could have brought himself to try sweet talking McGonagall: just the mere thought of it left him shuddering.
Two weeks were starting to seem more and more like an eternity.
After dinner, Harry kept quiet all the way back to the dormitory, feigning a headache and hoping the others would accept this as a reasonable excuse for his behaviour. It took him a few seconds to remember what bed was Sirius’s, and as soon as he was sure, he lay down and pretended to doze while the others talked. But when someone sat next to him, making the bed dip, he couldn’t resist opening his eyes to see who it was and what they wanted. It was Remus, with that odd expression on his face again.
“Sorry for taking the piss in McGonagall’s class,” he said, sounding almost too sincere. “But you can hardly blame me: you never miss an opportunity to have a dig at anyone. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
“No, just tired.”
Remus reached over and ran a hand affectionately through Harry’s hair, startling him somewhat: he and Ron had never been comfortable to show their friendship in this way. Then Remus turned to give James and Peter a pointed look.
“Okay,” James said, raising his hands in an exasperated gesture. “We get the hint. Come on, Peter; we know when we’re not welcome.”
The two of them exited the dormitory, leaving Harry alone with Remus. Harry didn’t have time to think about this, about why James and Peter would feel it necessary to leave him and Remus alone: Remus had already kissed him.
It was brief—a slight brushing together of lips—and then Remus moved to lie alongside him on the bed. Harry, on the other hand, was frozen rigid.
His godfather…his godfather had been dating Remus Lupin. Harry fervently hoped that it hadn’t been anything too intimate—just a bit of harmless fun between friends, perhaps. But Remus was now running his hand across Harry’s belly and up his side, leaning in at the same time to kiss and suck along his neck. Harry felt decidedly nauseous at the thought of doing anything sexual with Remus Lupin.
“Are you too tired?” Remus murmured against Harry’s skin, his hand now pulling Harry’s shirt from his trousers.
“Yeah, I’m shattered,” Harry replied instantly, making a point to yawn over the top of his words.
“Fine, you lazy bugger. You just lay back, enjoy and let me do all the work.”
It wasn’t exactly the reply that Harry wanted to hear—that would have been more along the lines of: “Okay, Sirius, let’s not do anything sexual tonight… In fact, wouldn’t it be a good idea for us to have a break for a couple of weeks?” Harry didn’t have a clue how he was going to do this. It was one thing to pretend to be in a relationship, but another thing entirely to pretend to be involved with a younger version of his very male ex-Defence teacher.
When Remus kissed him for a second time, Harry tried his best to kiss back, pushing their mouths together in what he hoped would resemble enthusiasm. Remus swiped his tongue across Harry’s lower lip, and Harry was instantly flooded with memories of kissing Ginny. He had a huge urge to flinch at those unwanted recollections, but he fought it and kept going, sliding their tongues together and reminding himself over and over that he had no choice in the matter. But it was when Remus brought his hand round to the front of Harry’s trousers, cupped his very flaccid penis and squeezed that Harry really couldn’t take any more. With one decisive shove, he sent Remus flying backwards onto the floor and bolted for the door.
**
After sitting on the front step of The Burrow for so long, Remus was starting to get cold, but he didn't think it would be prudent for him and Sirius to go back inside just yet.
Hermione and Ron had arrived from work a short while earlier, having their usual version of a domestic that involved Hermione persistently badgering Ron until he buckled. Then to Remus’s immense relief, Molly had come downstairs to say that Tonks was refusing to tell her anything. He quickly cut Molly off short while she was saying this, as he was worried that Sirius would recognise Tonks's name. From now on, they could only refer to her simply as 'T' if Sirius was in the room.
With the amount of people bustling about and getting increasingly frantic over what had happened to Harry, Sirius had become surly and unresponsive. Knowing that a surly and unresponsive Sirius usually led to less than tactful outbursts, Remus suggested that they went outside to talk. Talking had so far consisted of Sirius pestering Remus about Harry and also for information about the future.
“But you can let me know what happens to me, though? The future me, I mean.”
"I can't tell you," Remus
repeated for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It was irritating, to say the least, that Sirius
was so excited by the prospect of finding out how he ended up in life. "We can't risk you knowing and changing
the timelines," he added bitterly, wanting to do exactly the opposite and warn
Sirius what was to come.
"And Harry is in the past…in my body?" Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he narrowed his eyes at Remus. Remus knew instantly what Sirius was thinking about, even before he added, "You didn't…did you?"
"I thought he was you," Remus admitted, hanging his head in shame. It could be worse, he supposed: Sirius was still blissfully unaware that Harry was his godson.
He thought back to their time at Hogwarts and considered the way Sirius had behaved in their later years. Sirius was always slightly off-balance, but with hindsight, Remus could see that Sirius had been blatantly out of sorts for a while, even compared to usual.
"I thought you were having me on at the time,” he said. “You…he insisted that I had to get a book for him. I can't remember what one it was, though."
"So, he casts the spell and then I'll
get sent back, right?"
"I don't think it works like that. In theory, as it's in the past, it should have already happened, and the two of you should have switched back while we were still at Gri—" Remus stopped short. He didn't want to announce where they had been, and he hoped that Sirius had been too out of it at the time to notice. "While we were still at the other place," he finished.
"I know where I was, Remus: I'd recognise the hell-hole of my parents' house any day. What were you doing there?"
"I can't tell you."
"Fine." Sirius glared at him before scuffing his shoes on the path. "There was a book on the floor of Grimmauld Place," he added in a tone that made it clear that Remus was going to have to work for any further information.
Remus couldn't be bothered. He didn't have the energy or the inclination to play games, and he knew only too well that playing games with Sirius was a risky sport at the best of times.
"Doesn't matter," Remus muttered.
"It's too dangerous to go back
there now, anyway."
"Why?"
"I can't…. Sirius, please trust me."
"Oh, of course, that should be so easy for me to do when you refuse to tell me a damn thing!"
"Why can't you understand that if I
told you, it would change the past—you
would change things? And…and I want to
say what happened; oh God, I want you to know, to warn you, but…there's too
much at stake. We've come so far…. Harry is almost there…. It's nearly over…" Remus trailed
off. How could he possibly explain
without saying too much? He could
imagine that all he had said so far had only been an incomprehensible waffle as
far as Sirius was concerned. But it
seemed to be enough, for now: Sirius had gone back to looking thoughtful.
"It was Magicartes Primartes—the name of the book," Sirius said after a few minutes of silence. "You might not be able to get it from Grimmauld Place, but there should be another copy floating around somewhere."
"Thank you."
“So if he’s back there doing stuff with you, does that mean I can have my wicked way with you now?”
“It…it wouldn’t be…appropriate," Remus stuttered at the unexpected proposition. He wanted nothing more than to be able to hold Sirius once more, but it wasn't possible, not like Sirius intended. He tried to explain, unable to stop his voice from pitifully breaking as he did so. "You’re…you’re in Harry’s body, and…and things are different now.”
“But you want to. And it’s still me, underneath.”
At that moment, Remus was painfully aware of this last point and it was all he could do to hold himself back. He said nothing, knowing that his words would make this obvious and that Sirius would not be able to resist taking advantage at the slightest opportunity.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
"What?"
"That mad bint, T—the one who shouted
at me and ran off. You're seeing her,
aren't you."
“Sirius, please. I…I’m tired. I need to sleep. Can we talk about this in the morning?”
“What makes you think I’ll still be here in the morning?”
Remus snapped his head up and stared at Sirius, trying to gage if he meant what he was saying. Performing a disappearing act would not be the most helpful thing he could do, but if anyone was capable of being so damn awkward, it was Sirius.
"You can't leave," Remus said. He did his best to sound determined and
forceful, but failed miserably.
"Why not?"
"It's too dangerous. You don't understand what's happened."
"Then make me understand."
"I don't know how, not without saying too much. You have to believe me."
“How can I believe you when you don’t tell me anything?”
“Trust me, please.” Remus knew he was now begging, but it was late and he was tired, and he needed to know that Sirius wouldn't do anything stupid while they slept.
“Not until I’ve had a taste of that thing on your upper lip.”
“Sirius—”
“I promise to be a good boy and stay put, but you've got to put out for me first.”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep the headache that threatened at bay. Sirius meant what he was saying, that much was clear to Remus. A kiss for overnight reassurance. Surely it wouldn't be that hard to go through with, Remus thought. He glanced up at the window to make sure that no one could see them, and then he looked back at Sirius in Harry's body, which held Lily's eyes and James's face. If only he wasn't too exhausted to think of another way.
Sirius grinned and immediately leaned in for the kill, not waiting for any possible change of heart. He made straight for Remus's moustache, toying with it in curiosity with his lips and tongue and making noises of surprised appreciation. Meanwhile Remus resisted the urge to pull him in close and do things to Harry’s body that would probably haunt him—and Harry, if he ever found out—for the rest of his life. Then Sirius’s exploration was over, and it was lips on lips, tongue teasing tongue, Sirius clasping the back of his head and Sirius's overly-enthusiastic mouth taking Remus back in time, back to when Sirius used to kiss like that at school, all eagerness and hormones, no time or inclination for subtlety or tenderness.
They broke apart and Remus struggled to keep control as he realised his face was now damp. Thank God it wasn’t his trousers.
