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9th October 2017 11:03 - FIC: Here in the Forest (Dark and Deep) (Harry/Remus, NC-17)
Title: Here in the Forest (Dark and Deep)
Author: [info]gracerene
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Remus
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Harry Potter: chill wind & Remus Lupin: lost in an eerie location
Other Warnings/Content: Auror Harry, references to past canon character death, dub-con, scenting, biting, rimming, anal sex, brief felching, feral!Remus, memory loss
Word Count: ~4,175
Summary/Description: It's Hallowe'en night and Harry's in the Forbidden Forest looking for a werewolf.
Author's Notes: This month's theme was so clever and fun! So many awesome characters and prompts to choose from, and I spent quite a while trying to narrow down the options. But, in the end, I thought adding a dose of werewolf to the Halloween mix couldn't hurt, and I've been looking for an excuse to write this pairing. Obviously taking a lot of liberties with the HP canon in regards to werewolves, and, well, pretty much everything, actually. ;)

Harry shivered as he made his way through the forest path, picking his way through brittle twigs and thorny bushes. Overhead, the moon hung heavy and nearly full, but the bright light barely penetrated through the thick knot of branches overhead, even mostly bare of leaves as they were. That was what Harry's wand was for, though even his extra-strength Lumos barely seemed to illuminate more than several feet of the thick and impermeable darkness around him. Not for the first time that night, Harry wondered if it was a mistake, coming here alone.

When the Auror department had received word that there had been multiple alleged werewolf sightings in the Forbidden Forest, some even going as far back as a year ago, they'd been suitably concerned. Apparently, Hogwarts had put it off to overly-excited children telling tall tales, but when Hagrid had caught site of a wild, tawny haired man in the forest, McGonagall thought it best to call in the professionals.

None of the other Aurors had been keen to take on the assignment—it was Hallowe'en, after all, and most of them had families to spend time with or mates to go out drinking with or costume parties to dress up for. Harry hadn't been fussed about any of that. From the moment he'd heard about the sightings, he wanted on the case. His partner, Elliot, had been suitably annoyed, pouting and sighing about until Harry had taken pity on him and offered to take a look around alone. Apparently Elliot's wife was going to be dressed as a French maid for some masquerade party, and Elliot hadn't wanted to miss it. Harry never really saw the appeal of French maids, personally.

Now, however, creeping through the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night, Harry thought perhaps he'd been a little too hasty in letting his partner off the hook. True, the full moon wasn't for several days yet, which meant he wouldn't be dealing with a full-blown werewolf—Harry wasn't suicidal, after all—but that didn't mean that the man couldn't be dangerous. Besides, Harry was well aware that a possible werewolf wasn't the only dangerous creature he needed to worry about in this particular forest.

A chill wind whistled through the trees, and Harry tugged his heavy, red Auror cloak more tightly around his body in an attempt to ward off the cold. The air around him seemed to vibrate with some kind of tension, as if the forest itself was alive and sentient, watching as Harry slowly crept through the dark. Harry shivered. As stupid as it may have been to come here alone, he knew exactly why he was in the forest right now, instead of with Ron and Hermione and the rest of his friends at the Bent Broom getting sloshed on pumpkin-infused Firewhisky and Jack-o'-Lantern Jello shots. And it certainly had nothing to do with being a work-o-holic or trying to prove that he was more than his name to the rest of the Aurors.

It had to do with Remus Lupin.

Even thinking the name had Harry's stomach flipping and squirming with too many emotions to properly detangle. He thought back to that evening, to the last time he'd been in this same forest, walking to his death. Remus had been there, then, comforting him along with his parents and his godfather, and surely that was incontestable evidence that Remus really had died that day as everybody thought. Except, after, when they'd gone to collect his and Tonks's bodies, Remus had been gone, his body vanished without a trace.

They'd searched everywhere for him, or for what was left of him, but they'd turned up nothing. Hermione had suggested all kinds of possible explanations for the disappearance—perhaps his still form had been hit by some stray spell during that final battle—but despite Harry knowing better, he couldn't help but think that maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe Remus had escaped...alive. Harry knew it was foolish—he'd seen Remus's ghost, or whatever it was that the Resurrection Stone had brought back, which meant he had to be dead. But Harry knew Muggles "died" all the time on operating tables and on the way to the hospital, but that didn't mean they couldn't come back to life. Without a body, Harry couldn't give up hope that maybe Remus was out there, somewhere.

In the two years since the end of the war, Harry had searched every magical and Muggle hospital in Great Britain. He'd circulated flyers, looked into morgues, and generally left no stone unturned. Harry could admit it: he was a little obsessed. Ron and Hermione had expressed their concern a time or two, but Harry couldn't give up, not yet. Harry knew they thought his quest was hopeless, that Remus was long gone. And maybe they were right, but something inside of Harry wouldn't let him accept that. Whenever they brought it up, he told them that if there was a chance that Teddy didn't have to grow up an orphan, then he owed it to his godson to do whatever it took to find his father. That was the truth...or at least part of it.

He didn't tell them about the way his heart used to race or his stomach would flip whenever Remus was in the room. Harry didn't talk about the feelings he'd only begun to truly understand during the war, feelings that were nowhere near platonic in nature. It didn't matter, nothing would have come of it, not even if Remus were still alive. He'd had a wife, a son, and he'd been best friends with Harry's dad for fuck's sake. Remus had taught him about Grindylows and Dementors when Harry was thirteen, and there was no way Remus would have ever seen him as anything other than a kid. Harry shook off the somewhat depressing turn his thoughts had taken. His ill-advised feelings for Remus were unimportant. The point was, he cared for Remus, he missed him, and if there was a chance he was alive somewhere, then Harry was going to do whatever it took to find him, including chasing werewolf sightings into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night a couple of days before the full moon.

Harry didn't want to get his hopes up, but as vague as the descriptions of the werewolf sightings were, they certainly didn't prove against the possibility of this mystery man being Remus. Not to mention, Hogwarts was the last place that Remus was seen—dead or alive—and the sightings hadn't started until after the war, long enough perhaps for Remus to heal from the trauma he'd sustained from the battle. Perhaps he had amnesia, or suffered some other magical ailment that prevented him from returning home to his friends and family? Or perhaps this werewolf was one of Voldemort's followers, one of Fenrir's pack who decided to stay after the battle to terrorize children? Harry's rational brain countered. As desperately as he wanted it to be Remus, it was best not to get his hopes up.

A sudden, eerie silence brought Harry out of his reverie. Around him, the forest was utterly still, the kind of quiet that signalled there was a predator about. Harry glanced around, his heart beginning to race as he realised that he was no longer standing on the trail. In fact, the pathway was nowhere to be seen. The realisation that he was completely lost in the Forbidden Forest sunk in at the same moment that Harry's neck began to prickle. He was not alone in this forest. Somebody—or something—was watching him.

Crack.

Harry whirled around toward the sudden sound of a dry twig snapping. He held his wand up and squinted into the darkness, but to no avail. The inky blackness hung low over the forest like an impenetrable cloak; the rays of his Lumos were no match for the dark of the night.

Slowly, Harry turned back around, only to nearly fall over onto his arse as he took in the form of a man not five feet in front of him. Harry's heart leapt into his throat, his muscles tightening as his body kicked into fight or flight. But Harry was here for a reason, and he'd never been one to run away from danger. Fight it was, though hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

The man let out a low rumble as Harry raised his lit wand to more fully see him, and though Harry's heart jumped at the sound, his arm didn't waver. His shoulders were broad, his body long and lean, and his skin streaked with dirt. He was completely naked, apparently impervious to the chill wind nipping at his skin. His cock was large, and not entirely soft, and Harry's face flushed as he quickly averted his eyes up to the bloke's chest. Harry was surprised to note how fit the man looked—he didn't seem ill or underfed—given that it was clear he'd been out in these woods for awhile now, maybe even months. And then Harry's gaze finally met the man's eyes, and his entire body stilled.

Not months. Years.

There was a beard covering the man's lower face and sandy hair hung at chin length, the ends jagged as if he'd cut it himself. His head was cocked to the side, his gaze curious as he took Harry in. There was no recognition there, but those eyes...Harry knew those eyes.

"Remus?"

Remus let out a low rumble, a completely animal sound that vibrated from deep in his belly. Ridiculously, embarrassingly, Harry's cock jumped, arousal zinging through his body in a response completely beyond his control.

Remus's eyes narrowed, as if he could somehow sense Harry's reaction, and his nose lifted in the air as he took an obvious sniff. His eyes glinted in the light of Harry's wand as he turned his gaze back to Harry. He let out another growling rumble, and somehow, Harry got the impression that he was pleased. Slowly, Remus took a few steps closer.

"Remus?" Harry said again, his nerves pinging as Remus continued to prowl near. "What happened to you?"

But Remus made no acknowledgement that he'd heard Harry at all, and Harry wondered if he even understood what Harry was saying. If he'd truly been out here for over two years, then there was a reason he'd never made his way home. Maybe he didn't remember he had one.

There was a wildness in Remus's eyes, more prominent as he drew closer. Harry wondered if he should be afraid, but something inside told him that Remus wouldn't hurt him. All the same, he stiffened when Remus came near enough to bury his face in Harry's neck. His nose brushed against Harry's vulnerable flesh, his skin fever-hot where Harry would have expected it to be cold. He let out yet another of those pleased sounding growls, before Harry felt the warm, wet rasp of Remus's tongue along the curve of Harry's throat.

Harry let out an embarrassing squeak and tried to arch away from the unexpected assault, but Remus stopped him. He snarled, the threatening tone unmistakable as his teeth scraped against the column of Harry's throat in warning. Remus's hands pawed at Harry's waist, doing their best to tug Harry even closer.

Remus's naked body was plastered all along Harry's front, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realise that the large, hard line of burning heat against his abdomen was Remus's erection. Oh god, oh god. Remus was hard. Harry felt his own cock respond in kind, thickening up as Remus's hands began to tug at Harry's robes. Flustered panic gave Harry the strength to push Remus back, and Harry stumbled away, holding up his wand to ward Remus off.

"You're clearly not in your right mind, Remus," Harry said, his voice shaking. "You don't know what you're doing. I need to take you back. I need to take you back to your son. To Teddy."

Something flickered in Remus's eyes, a split-second of awareness, before it slid away again like dewdrops on leaves. He took a step towards Harry, and Harry held his wand aloft, shaking it threateningly in Remus's direction. Remus cowered and bared his teeth, clearly aware enough to recognise the wand as a weapon. Harry knew he needed to cast some kind of spell to incapacitate Remus, but guilt pricked at his conscience. His mind started to filter through possibilities, wanting to make sure that whatever he used, it wouldn't hurt Remus or have any potential side-effects.

Remus wasn't kind enough to sit still while Harry deliberated, and the moment Harry was distracted, Remus sprung. Panic flooded Harry's system, and two years of on-the-job training flew right out the window. On instinct, he shouted his trusty go-to, Expelliarmus, only to realise a fraction of a second later that Remus wasn't armed with a wand, and the spell would be no use against a physical attack. His mind frighteningly blank, Harry resorted to his final option. He ran.

Harry sprinted through the forest, crashing through branches and underbrush. His thighs burned and his lungs heaved, and he tried not to think about the fact that there was little chance of him outrunning a werewolf, even one who was currently in his human form.

He managed to give Remus a merry chase, but as Harry had expected, he was no match for him in the end. A heavy weight hit his back mid-stride, and Harry tumbled to the ground, the wind temporarily knocked out of him. His wand spilled from his grasp, rolling inches away from his fingertips. Harry tried to reach for it, but Remus kept him pinned, his hands holding down Harry's wrists and his body pressing firmly against his back.

Harry was helpless as Remus buried his nose once more in Harry's neck, his hips thrusting shallowly. Harry could feel the hard line of Remus's erection grinding against the seam of his arse, and he choked back a moan at the feeling. His own cock throbbed beneath him, pleased at the thought of being pinned beneath a man after so long without. Harry knew it was fucked up, that Remus wasn't in his right mind, but god it'd been ages since he'd had a good, hard shag, and the feeling of being trapped and powerless had never failed to set Harry off. It certainly didn't help matters that this was Remus. Remus, whom he'd been searching for for years. Remus, whom he'd wanted and dreamed about for even longer.

If he stretched, Harry was pretty sure he could reach his wand. He could throw Remus off him, knock him out, cast Incarcerous, do whatever he had to to incapacitate him and get Remus home. That was what he should do.

He didn't want to.

"Mine," Remus growled, the first words he had spoken since Harry stumbled upon him in the woods. His voice was gritty and low, a dry raspiness that suggested it had been a long damn time since he'd last spoken. The fact that Harry was the one to inspire him to speech caused Harry's body to go up in a blaze. Tension melted out of him like hot wax as he let the possessive tone wash over him.

"Stay." Another word, this one a command threaded with a hint of warning as Remus's hands briefly ground Harry's wrists into the dirt before he released them. His fingers slid down Harry's body, lingering at his waist before tugging down to strip him of his pants and trousers. Harry shivered as his legs were exposed to the cool night air, the chill intensifying when Remus shoved Harry's Auror robes up over his back so his arse was fully visible to Remus's gaze.

Remus whined, a plaintive, eager sound, and then his mouth was on Harry's arse, his tongue sliding up his cleft to lap at Harry's rim. Harry moaned in shocked surprise, his fingers digging into the damp earth as pleasure coursed through him. His head spun, and the last vestiges of rational thought fell away, leaving only mindless desire behind. The rich smell of damp leaves and loamy soil filled Harry's nose as Remus licked him open, and Harry's entire body trembled with the need to be taken, to see this madness through to the very end. He'd made his choice. It might not be the right one, but it was his.

Harry let out his own whine when Remus pulled away, the sudden chill of cool wind against his wet arsehole almost overwhelming. Remus blanketed Harry's body with his own soon after, his skin still radiating that unnatural heat as his nose sought out Harry's neck like a Bludger on a mission. He wuffed in contentment as he scented Harry, his hard cock leaking a line of precome down Harry's arse and lower back as Remus thrusted mindless against him.

"Want," Remus grumbled again, his voice rough and low. "Mate."

Harry shuddered, sensing Remus's desire to fuck him. Harry felt that same desire. The tip of Remus's cock caught on Harry's rim every few thrusts, promising pleasure if only it could slide inside. Remus's tongue had done a lot to relax Harry, but spit alone wasn't going to be enough to make things enjoyable. Harry stretched, reaching out with his fingertips for his wand. Remus let out a cautionary growl, his body going tense.

"It's okay," Harry said, keeping his voice smooth and soothing. "I'm trying to help. I need some slick if you're going to fuck me. You want that right? Want to mate me?"

"Mate," Remus agreed. He eased off just enough for Harry to grasp hold of his wand. With a burst of concentration, Harry cast a lubrication charm, wriggling at the sudden gush of oil slicking his arse.

There was a small, confused noise of inquiry from Remus, but Harry ignored it, focusing instead on reaching behind himself to take hold of Remus's cock. Remus was long and thick and blistering hot in Harry's hand, and Harry spared a moment of regret that he wouldn't get to taste him, before he pressed the dripping head against his entrance.

Harry arched, and Remus thrust, and they both shuddered as Remus's cock sunk inside. Even with the lube and the stretch, it burned—Remus was big and it had been far too long since Harry had last been fucked—but it felt good, too, scratching a primal itch deep inside Harry's body. He felt so close to Remus, connected, which was silly and fanciful, especially given Remus's state of mind. But Harry didn't want to think about that now, didn't want to think about the ways in which this was wrong, not when it felt so fucking right to have Remus all the way inside. Luckily, Remus seemed more than happy to help Harry lose every thought in his head, his hips picking up a hard and fast rhythm that made Harry see stars.

Remus thrust into him with mindless and erratic brutality, humping Harry like a dog—or rather a wolf—in rut. It lacked elegance and finesse; there was no careful angling for Harry's prostate or sensual hands petting over Harry's body, but Harry had never been harder. Remus panted into Harry's ear as his cock pistoned in and out of Harry's body, and Harry couldn't help but arch into the sensation, wanting more, harder, faster, now.

It was messy and artless, just raw, unfiltered pleasure as Remus chased his orgasm, biting at Harry's neck and clawing at the ground. As focused as he was on his prize, it didn't take Remus long to get there. He came with a howl (of course he did), baying his release at the sky as he climaxed.

Harry's own cock lie heavy against the ground as Remus collapsed on top of him in the aftermath of his pleasure, sated and replete. His cock was still large and firm in Harry's arse, his come slowly trickling out of Harry's tender hole. Harry's entire being shuddered at the filthy depravity of it all. He snaked a hand beneath himself, wedging between the ground and his stomach to wrap around his cock. His arse clenched down on the softening length inside as he hurtled towards his own release, Harry's hand a blur as it moved over his cock.

Remus slipped out of him, and the shock of sudden emptiness tipped Harry over the edge. His cock spurted on his hand, his chest, and the ground as his arse clenched around nothing. Despite the pleasure coursing through him, there was a hollowness there, too, as Remus unstuck himself from Harry's back. But then Remus's rough hands were on Harry's bare hips, flipping him over onto his back, before his face was buried in Harry's groin. He snuffled at Harry's spent cock, his tongue darting out to lick at him in long, sloppy strokes. Harry groaned, breath hitching as Remus's mouth travelled even lower, that clever tongue flicking over Harry's sore rim.

Fuck that felt good, good enough that Harry wondered how he'd gone his whole life without this particular pleasure, good enough to give Harry yet another reason to mourn the fact that this probably wouldn't ever happen again. Sadness lanced through him, hot and bitter and heartbreaking as Harry tried to steel himself for what had to happen next. He hoped Remus wouldn't hate him for this, after, once he was himself again. Or maybe he wouldn't remember at all, this stolen moment together just a whisper of a dream. Harry almost wasn't sure what was worse.

"Remus," Harry whispered, half pleased, half disappointed, when Remus managed to pull himself away from his ministrations to look up at Harry. "It's time for us to go. Time for us to get you home."

"Home," Remus agreed with a faint nod. His gaze burned as he stared into Harry's eyes. "Mine."

"Yeah, I'm yours," Harry murmured, his throat tight. "Let's get up, shall we?"

Remus let him up with surprisingly little fuss, though he frowned when Harry cast a Cleaning Spell on himself and began to tug on his clothes.

"Don't give me that look. Normal people wear clothes and cover up their bits. In fact…" Harry shrugged off his heavy Auror cloak, shivering as the full force of the chill night air hit him without his cloaked protection. With a sigh of regret, he wrapped the cloak around Remus's shoulders, huffing a laugh when Remus seemed perplexed by the clasp at the neck. Harry helped him settle it on his shoulders, unable to prevent himself from smoothing his hands down Remus's muscled arms. Remus looked vaguely uncomfortable, and he kept shooting the offensive material a dubious glare, but he didn't shrug it off. In fact, despite the fact that he clearly found the cloak restrictive, he seemed almost pleased when Harry offered it to him, as if he was proud to wear something that Harry had gifted him. Though that was probably Harry's imagination running away with him again.

"I want to take you home now, Remus. Back to your son. To Teddy. He needs you."

That awareness flickered in Remus's eyes again at the mention of Teddy, proof that the old Remus wasn't entirely lost to them. Remus was strong, he would find his way back. He just needed a little help.

"Teddy," Remus said, hesitantly, the word awkward and clumsy in his mouth. Harry's heart raced.

"Yes, Teddy. We're going to get you cleaned up so you can see him. Will you come with me?"

He held out a hand to Remus, desperately hoping he'd take it, that Harry wouldn't need to use some spell to incapacitate him. That wasn't how Harry wanted to start Remus's journey home.

Remus looked at Harry with unfathomable eyes, familiar and alien all at once. He nodded, once, and then his calloused hand slid into Harry's.

"Mate."

Harry didn't know what to make of that, though his heart gave a lurch all the same. "Okay, Remus. It's time to go."

Harry didn't know what the future was going to bring, didn't know what kind of consequences their actions would have, but even still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He could still feel the familiar ache in his arse, warming him from the inside out, indelible proof that their encounter wasn't just some fever dream. Harry knew that he was going to do whatever it took to get Remus, the real Remus, back, no matter the cost. Whatever was to come, Harry would always have this memory. He would always remember the feeling of Remus's body over him and inside of him, claiming him, even if just for a night.

Harry took a deep breath, pulled Remus in close, and Apparated.

They were going home.
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