***
Harry stood on the threshold of the hospital ward, his hands fidgeting in his pockets out of nervousness. Next to him was Ron, who had insisted on accompanying him this far for moral support, and Harry was very grateful for him doing this, especially after what had happened between him and Hermione two nights ago. She had finally admitted that she thought they would be better off as friends, and Ron had been left in a bit of a mess at first.
When Hermione had left the following morning with Tonks to take a much-needed holiday in Romania where Ginny was staying, she did not want Ron to go with them. Harry had expected Ron to be devastated, but instead he had muttered something along the lines of Hermione being too much like his mother anyway. Feeling lost and alone, Harry offered Ron comfort, in fact offered him much more than that. Ron had declined awkwardly, saying that he needed time before getting involved with anyone else, and besides, he did not think that he could do any of ‘that stuff’ that men did together. Then he took Harry by surprise, pointing out it was obvious that Harry was just waiting for Remus to be well enough to leave St. Mungo’s. When Harry thought about it, this was something that he realised he could not deny.
Lying only feet away in the plain hospital bed was the man who Harry knew he still wanted, despite how old Remus had become. The proud, strong man, who had been through so much and yet had managed to keep on going. There was the irresistible urge bubbling up inside again, the urge to give himself completely to Remus. To be there for him—especially when Remus’s pride would not let him ask for what was needed—to make him happy.
Harry felt a shove in the small of his back, reminding him of a similar prod that James had given him in the past. Only this time, Harry was more than willing to talk to Remus. He turned to face Ron and smiled, only to be pushed once more by his friend, who was now stepping back to let Harry do this alone.
“Hi,” he said feebly as he approached the bed. Remus opened his weary and bloodshot eyes. “Are you up to having a visitor?”
Remus grinned and gestured for Harry to sit in the chair next to him, pulling himself upright and wincing as he did so.
“How are you feeling, Remus?”
“I’ll be out of here soon enough.”
“And then what?”
There was no immediate reply. Remus studied him for a moment and then shook his head wistfully. “Back to the old routine, I suppose.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that. I mean, you and Tonks aren’t together anymore, and I thought—”
“Harry, I have a feeling what you’re about to say, and it won’t exactly be the most sensible suggestion you’ve come up with.”
“I don’t care,” Harry said defiantly, and then he softened his voice to add, “I never expected to become so attached to you, but I am—very much so.” Leaning forward, Harry took one of Remus’s frail hands and held it firmly. “I lost you once. I nearly lost you a second time, and now I don’t intend to let go of you again.” He could feel Remus’s hand begin to shake, and Harry clutched it tighter, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “Whether you want me or not, I’m yours.”
Remus pulled weakly, drawing Harry’s fingers to his dry mouth and brushing his lips across them. “It was your fault,” he said, finally. “I think it was you who made me fall in love with Sirius so deeply all those years ago.”
“Then let me make it up to you now.”
“I guess I’ll have to.”
Remus smiled, and Harry’s anxiety at being turned away dissipated. There was only one thing left to say.
“Er, you wouldn’t mind keeping it quiet for a while—until a certain someone has had time to get used to the idea?”
“I suppose that would be for the best,” Remus said with a knowing smirk. “After all, it’s one thing to face Voldemort and live to tell the tale, but to face Molly Weasley… well, I don’t think either of us is ready to take on that challenge just yet.”
***