***
Harry did not know where he was headed; he
just wanted to get away from Remus. And
when he saw James and Peter’s matching expressions of puzzlement at seeing him
in the common room, Harry knew he would have to get away from them, as
well. So he ran from
Remus had kissed him. Remus had touched his…his penis. Yes, Remus had thought that he was touching Sirius, but when Harry thought about it this way, he couldn’t say whether it made him feel better or worse about the situation. One thing he was sure about was that he could not do it: he could not fake being Remus’s boyfriend. There had to be a way to avoid it.
He had made it to the seventh floor, and even before he reached the stretch of corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was hung, it was obvious that the Room of Requirement was no longer an option. The sound of cackling resonated along the corridor, and as he cautiously peered round the corner, he could see Peeves kicking the paintings that hung on the same wall as the tapestry. The paintings swung wildly from side to side, leaving the remaining inhabitants looking more than a little sea sick.
Harry turned back the way he came, and instead, opted for an empty classroom.
Two weeks, possibly three. He contemplated the idea of breaking up with Remus for that time and making up with him just before he returned. Would that change history too much? Would Remus want to get back with Sirius after being turned away for so long? And what possible reason could Harry give for wanting to do so?
He shook his head; he didn’t fancy his chances of pulling that off without altering the timelines. There had to be a better solution to his current dilemma. At least he had time to think about it: he didn’t have to be back in the Tower for another couple of hours yet.
Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open, banging loudly on the wall as it swung inwards and making Harry’s heart leap wildly in his chest. It was James clutching the Marauders map, and he didn’t look happy. In two long, decisive strides, James covered the distance between them, and just as quickly, he had pulled back his free hand and punched Harry in the face.
“What was that for?” Harry asked, tentatively poking at his left cheek.
“Pushing Remus away like you did,” James spat, drawing his fist back as if ready to hit Harry again. “What the devil is up with you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before, and just like last time, it happens to be at Remus’s expense. You might be my best mate, but I won’t let you mess around with his head, not again. Either you give me a damn good reason for giving him the brush-off, or you go and apologise, or I’m going to hex you into next week.”
Harry didn’t know what to say to this. He had no reasons that he could give, and he had no immediate desire to be hexed by his dad. Like it or not, he would have to apologise to Remus. And going by the way James was impatiently tapping the map against his thigh, Harry guessed that it would have to be done straight away.
“I really don’t know what came over me. I’ve felt off all day,” Harry began in a hurried and haphazard way as he tried to stall for time. “I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. I should have just said….” He trailed off, not knowing what else he could have done given the circumstances.
“Well, you’ve been acting strange all afternoon. I still think Snape’s done something to you—I bet he put something in your food at lunchtime. After your crappy efforts in Transfiguration, even McGonagall commented on how funny you’re behaving.”
McGonagall. She certainly wasn’t Dumbledore and Harry wasn’t sure that he should trust her with something like this, but considering all that he was faced with, he was willing to give her a try. He moved towards the door and immediately had his way barred by James.
“I need to see McGonagall,” Harry said, hunting round for a plausible reason. “I’m gonna try to get out of that detention. I should’ve done that earlier.”
“You need to see Pomfrey, more like.” But James didn’t move to let Harry pass.
“I’ll talk to Remus as soon as I’ve seen her, I promise.”
“You don’t need to promise, Sirius. I’ll make sure that you’ll be talking to him.”
As they made their way to find McGonagall, Harry did worry whether James had intentions of following him into her office. But after knocking on the door and having McGonagall glaring down at them—apparently, because it was them—James mumbled that he’d be waiting in the corridor.
McGonagall clicked the door closed after Harry had entered, and strode to the other side of her desk, which was littered with reams of parchment, inks of various colours and three different sized quills.
“Well, Mr Black, as you can see I’m rather busy this evening. What it is you want?”
“I’m not Sirius Black,” Harry began. He didn’t have a clue how he was going to proceed from there, but he figured that as long as he got the most important details out of the way, if she needed to know anything else they could come to that, as and when. But to his surprise, McGonagall spoke up before he had the chance to say anything else.
“Not again.” Her tone was curt and icy, and Harry could swear that she was now sending mental daggers right at his heart. “So who are you this time? An unsuspecting first year Hufflepuff? A villager kidnapped from Hogsmeade?”
“No. I’m from the future,” Harry stuttered, frowning at the fact that she did not seem surprised in the slightest by his proclamation and feeling slightly anxious at the way she had said ‘this time’. Second by second, Harry could see the anger welling up on her face. “I can’t tell you who I am, because I don’t want to affect the timelines—”
“SIRIUS BLACK, I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH!” She shouted at him in a sudden explosion, which appeared to have shocked her almost as much as him. She collected herself together for a moment and then continued. “What do you hope to achieve by this excuse? Were you planning on telling me that they start lessons at a different time in the future? Perhaps they use different Transfiguration techniques—hence why your attempts in my lesson today were so appalling?” Despite having calmed down somewhat after her initial outburst, McGonagall still seemed ready to hex him. Harry wondered if she was angry enough to send him much further into the future than just next week, as James had promised. “Trying to pull this type of stunt once was bad enough, and to think I even considered a second year was capable of brewing the Polyjuice Potion…. This time, you have gone too far. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you will serve detention with me every Wednesday lunchtime until the end of term.”
She marched back across the room and threw open the door, making it clear that the meeting was over. “Be grateful there are only three weeks left,” she added as Harry inched past her.
“So it went well, then?” James asked as soon as McGonagall was back in her office and out of earshot. He had a knowing smirk plastered across his face and had evidently overheard McGonagall’s shouting.
“I hate everything.”
“Look on the bright side. Remus will find it amusing that you’ve pissed off McGonagall so spectacularly, and that can only help when you grovel to him for behaving like a prick earlier.”
“I still hate everything," Harry repeated, fighting off the overwhelming urge to tell his father to piss off.
**
Remus felt distinctly uncomfortable after kissing Sirius, and he knew that if they stayed outside, alone, for much longer, there was a danger of him doing much worse. Hurriedly drying his face on his sleeve, he stood up and announced that it was time to go back indoors.
Inside, Molly was busy arranging bedrooms. Sirius was left to his own devices in Fred and George's old bedroom, but not before Remus took away Harry's wand, excusing his actions by saying, "I know what you're like with temptation." After a moment's thought, Remus also decided to make all the accessible mirrors opaque, because Sirius was bound to recognise Harry's features—Sirius would not notice that Remus had done this: he had never bothered with mirrors at Hogwarts, much to James’s annoyance.
As far as the book was concerned, no one
had heard of Magicartes Primartes,
and considering the lateness of the hour, they all agreed to wait until morning
before deciding what to do.
When Remus arrived in the room he was to share with Tonks, he found her sitting on the bed, still fully dressed.
She stared blankly at him and said, "It's really him, isn't it."
Closing the door gently behind him, Remus nodded, hoping that she did not want to have another ‘discussion’ at this time of night.
"How am I supposed to compete?"
"Tonks, don’t do this. It's not worth it: he's seventeen, he's in Harry's body…." Remus trailed off, not knowing whether he was saying this for Tonks's benefit or to convince himself that nothing else could happen between him and Sirius. He was not convinced in the slightest.
"I thought," she continued,
"given time, you’d stop using him as an excuse and you’d get over this…
this thing of yours. But now he's back and it seems that you're
too wrapped up in the past to give me a second glance. I wish he would just go, leave us alone.”
As much as he wanted to agree with Tonks,
to say that he wished that Sirius would go back to his own time, Remus could
not bring himself to lie. Instead, he
remained silent as they both undressed, with Tonks looking utterly dejected and
making him feel even guiltier about his illicit kiss he had shared with Sirius.
She slid beneath the covers, and he joined
her, sinking into her embrace and appreciating the comfort that was being
offered.
"I wish I could stop the way I feel
about you," she said, squeezing him that much tighter in her arms, as if
trying to fuse their two bodies together.
"I'm sorry."
Remus wondered whether being in bed with
Tonks was wrong, whether he was just adding to his list of sins by continuing
to be with her. But the warmth and the
closeness were reassuring, even if falsely so, and he was reluctant to walk
away from something so freely given.
She started to kiss his shoulders, at the
same time stroking his back and rubbing her curves against his lean frame. As she worked her way upwards, his lips met
hers and they kissed like strangers who were desperate to make any sort of a
connection, just for the sake of being with someone. He told himself that they could work it out,
that perhaps this happening was good thing, because it would help Tonks to
acknowledge how he felt for Sirius.
She'd stop taking his past relationship for granted. She, with her rounded body and softer skin,
would start to realise how much he missed her cousin, with his angles and hair
and….
He punched the mattress in
frustration. Even now, alone in bed with
Tonks—a time when he'd always been able to switch off from his memories—the
image of his former lover was far too clear in his mind. He slumped back onto the pillow and let out a
sigh of resignation as she futilely tried to coax a reaction out of him.
"I can't, not tonight."
Tonks pushed herself up onto her elbows,
saying, "You're still thinking about him, aren't you. Can't you just stop for—"
"I can't switch off how I feel,"
he snapped, immediately regretting his over-reaction when Tonks glared at him
coldly. "I don't know what you
expect from me, but I'm not over him and having had him taken from me twice,
I'm not sure I ever will be.
"Tonks, before, when I told you I was
too poor, I didn't just mean money.
Don't you understand?
Emotionally, I have almost nothing to give you, especially today."
He could see her eyes glistening as she moved
in the bed, turning her back on him.
Cocooning herself in the duvet, she faced the wall in a foetal position,
sniffling softly. It was a long while
before either of them fell asleep.
