HP fic: Reason Panders Will, part 1 [Draco/Harry/Remus, adult]
Title: Reason Panders Will Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Draco/Harry/Remus Rating: adult Warnings: Rather crackish. Very mild bondage. Summary: Draco's come to Grimmauld Place for a good reason: to teach Harry Occlumency. Reason doesn't have much to do with what happens after that. Notes: The title comes from Shakespeare, Hamlet, act iii scene 4. Written for siren_mage for the hpvalensmut exchange, originally posted here. A rarity for me, it is a one-shot but nonetheless too long for a single post, so I am putting it up in two parts.
The werewolf did a double-take when he first saw me sitting next to Harry. Not that his reaction was unusual. I think every member of this Order of the Phoenix did likewise. But most of them then refused to look at me; Remus Lupin seemed unable to stop staring.
After the meeting I thought I'd escape by going down to the kitchen and making myself a cup of tea. Yes, I do know how to make tea without benefit of house-elf. It was one of the first things I learned after Snape and I left Hogwarts so precipitously. I was about to push open the kitchen door when I heard voices and decided to listen for a moment instead. Never pass up a chance to pick up information. You don't know when it might be useful.
"What's the Malfoy boy doing here?" That was Lupin. I remembered his voice from school.
"He turned up inside the house one night, almost two weeks ago. We know Severus must have brought him; it's the only way he could have made it past the Unplottability charm, even though the Fidelius is no longer operative," came Kingsley Shacklebolt's rumble. "Alastor wanted to turn him over to the Ministry immediately."
"Naturally. What stopped him?"
"Young Malfoy insisted that he had to talk to Harry, alone. He even agreed to do it wandless. I don't think Harry's reported it all, but some was word of Voldemort's plans, things that don't involve the werewolves so you couldn't have known them, Remus," said Shacklebolt. "I imagine that there was a deal struck – safety for information."
There was a deal struck, but it involved far more than Shacklebolt imagined. You see, I had come here for a reason. Several, in fact. Some connected to the war, some to personal loyalty, some to strategy. My father was committed to Voldemort; there was no chance that he could get away a second time with claiming he was under the Imperius curse. I, however, could still support the opposing side, which would mean that either way the Malfoys would get through. Snape hadn't needed to point that out to me when he was persuading me to come here.
I banged open the door as if I had just arrived and walked into the kitchen, merely nodding at the two men as I went to put the kettle on. Shacklebolt left, his boot heels thumping loudly on the scuffed wood. Lupin stayed, studying me.
"How do you find being here?"
"It's all right." I shrugged. It was more congenial than staying alone with Snape, that was certain. Order members came and went, but there were always a few in the house. Harry, Granger, and the Weasel most often, and sometimes the Weaselette or one of her parents, and nearly always my half-blood cousin Tonks or another Auror. I wondered sometimes if the Aurors stayed because I wasn't trusted. They had reason. Harry was the only person who knew the full truth... well, most of it. There were a few truths I wasn't prepared to share with him if I could help it, although if I did properly what I was here to do he might discover them regardless.
"Mm. I've never enjoyed having to live among those who distrust me," said Lupin, a wry twist to his lips. "I've certainly done enough of it, though."
"The werewolves?"
"They actually trust me more than most, since I'm one of them." I'd never noticed how gold his eyes were. Perhaps talking about the other werewolves gave them that gleam. "No, I mean most of my life. The Ministry is not... beneficent towards my kind."
"I suppose not." I'd never really thought about it, but werewolves are considered Dark creatures and it made sense. The kettle finally boiled and I made my tea in silence, Lupin still standing there, considering me.
"Was there something you wanted?" I kept my voice as calm as I could. He made me nervous, always had.
"Just to tell you to be careful of Harry." Before I could decide what he meant by that, Lupin continued, "He can be... erratic, sometimes." Now that I already knew. "Whatever you've told him, obviously it was enough to keep him from continuing your ongoing conflict. But with his parents and godfather all dead, I feel a certain responsibility for his well-being; if you hurt him in any way, or get in the way of what he needs to do, you'll answer to me, sooner or later."
I stepped towards him, closer than I was comfortable with myself and apparently closer than he liked, for he stiffened. "I have no intention of hurting Harry. Or of letting him hurt me."
With that I picked up my tea and left him there, staring.
I didn't see Lupin again for several weeks. Working undercover among the werewolves meant that he could not often get away. I assumed there was some method used for passing his information back, or receiving instructions, but no one told me what it was. During those weeks I was busy myself, carrying out my own purpose in being here.
"Again."
Harry glared at me. "We've been practicing for two hours."
"You think that You-Know-Who has a time limit on his ability as a Legilimens?" I drawled the words, knowing that such a tone would infuriate him into continuing.
"I can't believe this," he muttered. "Learning Occlumency from Draco Malfoy. It's almost as bad as learning from Snape."
"But not quite," I said. "Again."
He took a deliberate breath and met my eyes, the barrier slamming down between us – almost. I knew the chinks in his mental armor well and twisted my own thoughts to follow his. By now I'd learned more than I wanted to know about Harry's childhood. Horrible. It confirmed everything my parents had ever said about Muggles. There were areas of Harry's memories that I didn't go into, however; my desire to see his feelings about the Weaselette, for instance, was nil. I suspected that was rather kinder than Snape would have been. He had trained me as both Legilimens and Occlumens. It was just as necessary in my case, but I was a far better student than Harry, I have to say.
A push. He'd nearly blocked me out, and I was delighted although I wouldn't show it. The sooner Harry learned this, the better off we'd all be. He couldn't finish what he had to do until he could face Voldemort safely.
"Come on, Harry, you can do better than that," I said smugly. His specs were fogging up with the effort, and he snatched them off and wiped them on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers to use the shirttail to rub them clean, flashing a bit of skin as he did so.
Putting his glasses back on he looked at me again, concentrating, and this time he managed to keep me out. In fact I felt his presence in my own thoughts and pulled my own barriers into place.
Not quite quickly enough. He gasped and turned his head. "No more today." His voice was thick.
I knew what he'd seen, of course. "Sorry." I said the word automatically. I wasn't ashamed; Snape had made me well-aware of the risk, though. If Potter found out I fancied him he probably wouldn't be willing to be trained any longer, and that could ruin more than one well-laid plan. Mine. Snape's. Harry's own.
"'S all right." Harry had hunched his shoulders. "Just... no more practice for now, okay? I need to think."
So did I, because if I'd bollocksed this up then I had to figure out what to do next. I didn't really worry that Harry would go back on his promise about protecting me from the Ministry, but if I wasn't able to help him prepare for his confrontation, then what was I going to do instead? I nodded, then said aloud, "I'll see you downstairs at dinner," because he wasn't looking in my direction.
It was still over an hour till dinner and I didn't much fancy wandering around the gloomy old house. I could go to my bedroom, where at least I'd be alone. Or there was the library, if Granger wasn't there poring over one of the tomes she was so fond of. I'd discovered that some Black ancestor had left a collection of pornography there, on one of the more inaccessible shelves. How it had been overlooked I didn't know, but I was quite happy to take advantage of it. I suspected, actually, that it hadn't been overlooked; once or twice I'd thought that the books' order had been altered. Probably one of the other residents had found them – most likely Granger, although I really didn't want to think about Granger reading them for the purpose intended. That was what I'd do, choose one of the books and then go have a comfortable wank in my room, before I started having to consider what to do next if Harry refused to practice Occlumency with me any longer.
I had already found a favorite volume by this time, quite old but with some excellent engravings that were apparently taken from classical illustrations. Most of the young men portrayed had dark hair and it was quite easy to imagine the addition of glasses and a scar. I tucked it under my arm and was turning to go when I heard a throat being cleared and jumped.
Remus Lupin was leaning against one of the shelves, eyebrows raised as his glance flickered to the book I held. "A bit of light reading?"
"You could say that." I was sure he couldn't read the title on the spine, not from that angle. "Something to pass the time until dinner, that's all."
"I see," he said. His gaze traveled from the book to my face, and then down again. I was wearing a pair of Muggle jeans, and it took serious self-control to not shift under his stare and make my burgeoning erection more obvious than it doubtless already was. "Enjoy your... reading."
My cheeks were warm as I left. Surely I wasn't even considering the idea that Lupin might find me attractive. Not a man old enough to be my father. My former professor. Not to mention a werewolf. I wasn't sure which of those things was most disturbing. But there was something about the twist of his lips, and the grey in his hair did make him look distinguished...
Shutting the door of my room firmly behind me and locking it with a quick charm for good measure, I flung myself down on the bed and flipped the book open at random. There, a well-built young man with hair as tousled as Harry's so often was. Delicious. The only problem was that this picture featured three men, and my overheated brain was insisting on putting Lupin's face onto another of them.
Oh, well, did it really matter who I fantasized about during a wank? I drew my palm firmly over my cock, stroking it through the heavy fabric, then stopped to undo the zip and pull the jeans off altogether. I'd been in too much of a hurry to bother, once, and found out the hard way – hah – that Muggle zippers could pull hair and pinch skin quite painfully.
Wizarding pornography is much better than the Muggle kind, I'll have you know. I'd picked up one of those by accident once and was appalled to discover that the pictures don't move at all. In this book, the boy who looked rather like Harry gave me a saucy wink as a second boy's mouth closed around his prick.
The older man – not Lupin, I reminded myself, for one thing he was clean-shaven – toyed with not-Harry's nipples, his own cock swelling, though it was difficult to see pressed against not-Harry's arse. I stroked myself in time to the bobbing of the other boy's head on not-Harry's prick, imagining I was doing the same to Harry. His skin would be soft over that heated length, maybe a whiff of almond from the soap Harry used but mostly smelling of that musky Harry-scent that I caught each time I sat next to him. He'd put his hand on my head, just like the boy in the picture was doing, and thrust into my mouth as if he couldn't help himself, groaning my name.
I was using both hands now, one wrapped around my cock and the other sliding down to pull at my balls and press behind them, reaching to brush over my hole. Merlin, that was good. I gasped and looked at the picture again.
Now not-Harry was kneeling in front of the boy who'd sucked him off and was returning the favor while the boy leaned over him, hands braced against the sketched wall. Behind, the older man – not Lupin, not-Lupin – shoved his prick slowly into not-my arse, to the evident pleasure of both. I whispered a quick lubricating spell and let my finger sink into my own arse, pushing, twisting, my other hand flying over my cock until I came, a gout of slippery spunk landing on the edge of the picture where not-me was being pounded, faster and faster until not-Lupin held still and shuddered in orgasm, not-Harry taking not-my prick down his throat, and finally not-me sagged forward in spent delight.
See? One of the best wanks I ever had, and I wasn't thinking of Lupin at all. I pulled my finger out and wondered how it would feel to have someone's cock there. I never had, not yet. While I'd been quite sure I was gay since I was fourteen, Hogwarts wasn't exactly a place conducive to sexual experimentation, not with the tattletale ghosts round every corner. My experiences had been mostly limited to hand jobs and frottage, with a couple of very hurried blow jobs.
That was one downside to fancying Harry. He might be amenable to the idea, if he got used to it – anyone with half an eye could see that the Weaselette had moved on, or rather back, to Longbottom of all people. But if Harry decided that a bit of shagging with yours truly might be worth a go, well, he almost certainly had less practice with blokes than I did. Lupin, on the other hand, looked like he would know exactly what he was doing.
No. I cast a hasty Tergeo on the book and slammed it shut before cleaning myself up and starting to pull my jeans on again. I was not going to think about shagging the werewolf. Not even if he looked at me with those golden eyes and made those double-edged remarks in a hoarse but surprisingly sexy voice. No. Not sexy. Just rough. I supposed that it was howling as a wolf once a month that had damaged it. He was a werewolf, I reminded myself. And far too old. I'd just ignore him and everything would be fine.
I glanced at the clock. Nearly six; time to go down for dinner. Should I sit to Harry's left as usual, or would that bother him after what he'd seen in my mind earlier? I didn't want to make him so uncomfortable that he'd refuse to keep learning Occlumency from me. If nothing else Snape would flay me alive, first verbally, then literally. Using a dull knife, I was sure. Not to mention that my life would be in danger if Harry didn't learn and Voldemort defeated him. My father would do his best to save me – he might even succeed – but the Dark Lord is insane, everyone knows that, and "unpredictable" is a mild way of describing him.
Harry wasn't yet in the dining room when I got there, so I sat where I always did. Let him make the choice. I had closed my eyes for a minute, running through the things that Snape had taught me, when a draught of air told me that someone had taken the chair to my left, opposite from where Harry generally sat.
"Hello again, Draco," Lupin said. "Smells like Molly has made one of her wonderful stews, doesn't it?"
Opening my eyes, I looked over at him. "Yes." His knee was next to mine, not touching, nothing so overt, but I could feel the heat of him across the scant gap of air and through my jeans. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
I knew I sounded surly and I had no right to ask anyhow, but Lupin only smiled and said, "There's a meeting tonight and I was able to get away earlier than often, so I came for dinner as well. Ah. Harry." He looked beyond me and reached out his hand. Harry leaned across and grabbed Lupin's forearm.
"Remus. I'm glad you're here." His breath blew over my ear and I shivered as he sat down next to me. "Do you think you'll have a few minutes to talk, later?"
"I should do. The meeting's not till eight," said Lupin. "What did you need to talk about?"
"I'd, er, I'd rather wait," Harry said. He sounded uncomfortable and I had a strong impression that it was me that he was planning to discuss with Lupin. Perhaps the Occlumency lessons. Most of the Order didn't know that Harry was studying the technique, as far as I was aware, but if Lupin stood in the place of a parent or uncle or whatever to Harry, maybe Harry had told him.
"Whatever you want." Lupin sniffed the air. "I'm going to go help Molly bring the food in. Save my seat?"
He seemed to be talking to me now, not Harry, so I answered, "All right." There really wasn't anything else I could have said, and besides, it would hardly be difficult. No one ever wanted to sit by me except Harry. I sneaked a look at him now and saw that he was chewing on his lip, looking nervous.
"Harry," I started, intending to tell him that he oughtn't to worry about what he'd seen in my mind, that I was well aware of the difference between fantasy and reality, but Granger and the Weasel and the Weaselette clattered in at that moment, the Weasel sitting on Harry's right and the two girls across the table, and they all began to talk about one of the older Weasley brothers, which one I wasn't sure and couldn't be bothered to figure out. So I shut my eyes once more and thought about how I might convince Harry that he needed to keep on with the Occlumency lessons. He wasn't anywhere near being able to block out Voldemort yet.
Maybe a little bit of insult? Hint that he was afraid to do something, and Harry would leap to prove that idea wrong. It had worked back in our very first year at Hogwarts and nothing much had changed since. Not a technique I could try in public, of course, but if I simply went to his room tomorrow at our usual time and offered to stop the lessons if he found them too distressing, Galleons to Knuts he'd insist on continuing.
I heard the thump of serving dishes being put down and the scrape of chairs being pulled back. Opening my eyes I saw that Lupin had returned to the seat beside mine.
"Thank you for saving my place," he said gravely, as if I had actually done anything.
I inclined my head and reached for the tureen of stew. Molly Weasley was an excellent cook, I had to admit that. Perhaps not quite as good as the house-elves we had at home, but easily on a par with those at Hogwarts. Though it seemed degrading for her to spend her time on a house-elf's job, I was quite happy to eat the results.
This time Lupin's knee bumped mine as he pulled his chair closer to the table, and he didn't move it away. The warmth – how could he be so hot? – seemed to travel up my leg and settle in my cock as we ate. As usual I spoke very little during the meal; stuck in Grimmauld Place all day, I never had news, and I didn't imagine that anyone present would be keen on making casual conversation with someone they still thought of as the next thing to a Death Eater. Harry trusted me, and I had the odd feeling that Granger might... and maybe, just maybe, Lupin did too, despite his warning the first time I'd seen him here.
When the meal was over, I wanted to try to listen in on Harry's conversation with Lupin, but the Weaselette reminded me that it was our turn to clear up. I gritted my teeth and did my half of the chore as quickly as possible, bringing all the dishes back into the kitchen, wrapping up the food left over, and finally wiping down the counters, while she washed and then put away the pots and dishes. Neither of us spoke; no more than her brother had she ever accepted that I might have had legitimate reasons to do what I had done, first supporting Voldemort as my parents had and then changing sides.
I suspected that Harry and Lupin would be talking in Harry's room. Granger tended to occupy the library after dinner, and the other members of the Order were beginning to arrive and mill about the rest of the ground floor. The trouble was, there was no good place from which I might overhear that conversation. The hallway was far too public, and it would be too risky to go into the bedroom next to Harry's. If the Weasel caught me, I'd never hear the end of it. If only Harry's room weren't at the end of the hall... but perhaps I could try the room above his? That one was supposed to be used by other Weasley brothers, but none of them were here tonight. It should be safe.
No one was in the second-floor hallway, and I ducked into the room without being seen, lying down and pressing my ear to the floor. I doubted Harry would have thought to cast any kind of silencing charm, not here, but I knew that there were protective spells on his room that would warn him if I tried to use magic to overhear. The Muggle method would have to do.
"...sure what to do," I heard Harry's voice, muffled by the floorboards.
"You might..."
That was Lupin, but I was missing most of what he said. I bit back an oath and held my breath, wishing I could stop the pounding of my heart as easily.
"...necessary. Snape couldn't."
"Wouldn't," Lupin said.
"So Draco's the only one. But..."
Harry kept speaking, but I couldn't hear. He must have lowered his voice. I listened harder, hoping that he would raise it again, or that perhaps Lupin's replies might tell me what was of such great importance.
"I don't doubt you're right, Harry," I heard after several moments of mumbling. A cough. "But I think he..."
I ground my teeth together as now Lupin became nearly inaudible as well. So unfair. I listened a bit longer, but the conversation continued to be too muffled for me to hear more than the occasional word, no good at all. At last it was quiet. I heard the thump of Harry's door closing, and knew that Lupin, at least, had gone, and very likely Harry as well. It must be nearly time for the meeting of the Order, and I ought to be present. If I weren't, there would be even greater suspicion of me than was already the case, and that would be... tedious.
With a sigh I stood and cracked the door to the room to make certain no one else was about. The corridor was empty. I hurried downstairs and managed not to be the last person to arrive. The chair next to Harry where I generally sat had been occupied, though, and I had to take a place between one of the Weasley twins, which one I wasn't sure, and Lupin. The alternative was to sit between the Weasel himself and Alastor Moody, and that would have made for a miserable evening indeed.
Lupin's left hand rested on the tabletop, and he was rubbing his thumb along his index finger. I tried not to watch, to concentrate on the reports that were being made, but the movement was a slow and gentle stroke, and my imagination went back to the book I'd been looking at, not-Lupin stroking not-Harry's nipples with his thumb in the same kind of movement. I wondered how it would feel to have Lupin's hand on my own skin, perhaps stroking along the crease between hip and thigh. Then I glanced over at Harry, who seemed to be equally fascinated by Lupin's thumb. I caught that green gaze, and he looked away, flushing. No one else seemed to notice, not even Fred, or was it George, next to me.
The meeting seemed to drag on forever. Harry merely shook his head when he was asked if he had anything new to report. I had nothing to say either; I never did. I just kept watching Lupin's fingers, with occasional checks to see if Harry was doing the same.
"Draco." Lupin's rasping growl brought me out of my half-trance. Everyone was pushing back their chairs, standing, talking about getting tea.
"What?" It came out too abruptly but for a moment I'd thought that I'd failed to answer a question, that everyone knew I hadn't been paying attention, and I couldn't afford to alienate the Order members. Harry's support couldn't protect me forever.
"We need to talk."
I looked for Harry, but didn't see him. "About what?"
He touched my wrist, and again I noticed how warm he was. My hands are always cold, even in summer, and in early February in the drafty old Black house half the time I couldn't feel my fingers.
"Come on."
Well, I was sure that Lupin wasn't going to take me off somewhere and hex me, at any rate. Even if he distrusted me, or thought that I'd hurt Harry somehow, that wasn't how either he or the Order worked. Despite his half-threat of a few weeks before, Lupin would give me a chance to explain. Gryffindors. Irritating, but predictable in their own way.
I followed him down past the kitchen – voices indicated that tea preparations were well underway – and into a small room that still contained a nineteenth-century mangle and washing tub. I imagined that old Mrs. Black had probably had her house-elves use them right up until her death. Lupin shut the door behind us and leaned against it, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and suddenly I felt a good deal less confident.
"Harry's told me that you're teaching him Occlumency."
"Yes." There was no point in denying it.
"He said that he managed to fight you off, today. That he saw something you didn't want him to see."
Shrugging, I said, "I didn't get my own barriers in place quickly enough, that's all. My fault, not his."
Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I gather that he ended your lesson when that happened?"
"He did." I took a breath and added carefully, "I just hope that he doesn't mean to end his lessons altogether. It's a technique he has to master if he's to have any chance against You-Know-Who. If you can persuade him that it won't happen again..."
"No point," he cut me off.
"Oh." My fists clenched involuntarily.
He was looking at me, waiting. I could just catch the scent of him, a warm smell, like toast and tea and sandalwood soap. I forced my mind away from that and crossed my arms, casually shifting my weight, turning slightly away from him.
"I mean, the reason why I'm here is to teach him. Professor Snape taught me so that I could teach Harry. That's why I came." I was starting to babble.
Lupin cocked his head. "To teach Harry Occlumency. Just that."
"Well, yes, of course."
"Nothing else?" He stepped nearer. The dim light in the room caught on the silver hairs scattered among the brown. They suited him, somehow. "I believe you're here for Harry," he said. "But I wondered."
"Wondered what?"
"If you might have... other interests." His gaze flickered downward, then back to my face, which I could feel heating.
He was still just far enough away that he couldn't touch me without moving again, and that meant that I couldn't touch him, either. Which was a good thing, because my brain wasn't keeping up with my prick. I swallowed. "I might."
"Ah." His eyes gleamed amber. I was reminded uncomfortably that once a month he was a wolf. "That's what I thought."
If he had stayed there only a few minutes more, I'm not sure what would have happened, but all of a sudden he turned back to the door and opened it, saying over his shoulder, "I have to leave, but I would be here again within a week. Talk to Harry. Tonight. He has something to say to you."
And with that Lupin was gone, leaving me leaning against the ancient mangle, my prick more than a little hard, and suspecting I knew what Harry wanted to talk about. It almost had to be what he'd seen when he'd slipped past my barriers, but he could be intending anything from withdrawing his protection – which would mean Moody would probably haul me before the Wizengamot before noon tomorrow – to saying that he had similar feelings towards me. Hah. That was unlikely. But I didn't have much choice but to go find out.
I imagined I could still smell Lupin's skin as I reached for the doorknob. Troubling. I'd been interested in Harry for ages; obsessed with him, if I were being honest about it. Now all of a sudden I was thinking about Lupin, too, and he was old enough to be my father; but I couldn't be mistaken that he had, very discreetly, let me know that he fancied me as well. I swallowed. If I had the opportunity, would I take it? He'd practically said that I had a week to think it over, before he returned, and it had been an awfully long time since I'd had a chance for anything except a private wank. The last time... I tried to think. Doxy's drawers, had it been nearly two years?
Well. No one should have to go without for so long. It wasn't as if Lupin were going to want anything more than a shag. He couldn't possibly. But I'd think about it a bit more before I made up my mind. In the meantime...
Harry was still in the room where the Order had met, half-sitting on the table and talking with the Weasel and Granger, a cup of tea cooling beside him. I thought about fetching myself a cup, perhaps bringing Harry a fresh one too, but I couldn't stomach the idea of putting three sugars into a cup of tea that was half milk to start with, not even to give it to Harry.
The other two had their backs to me, but Harry saw me enter the room. His eyes caught mine and he shook his head, very slightly, then flickered his gaze upward, in the direction of his room. Neither of his friends seemed to notice, so I nodded and backed away.
Since I'd been teaching him there, I knew the spell that would let me into his room. I didn't know how long he would be. Sitting in my usual chair, I tried to relax and think of nothing, especially not the fact that I was still turned on by my conversation with Lupin.
"Draco." Harry's voice roused me. "Wake up."
I wanted to protest that I hadn't been asleep, but it was too obvious that I had dozed off to make the denial credible. "Yeah." I scrubbed my hand over my face. "Lupin said you wanted to talk to me, tonight. So what's it about?"
He dropped into the other chair, and his eyes slid away from mine. "Don't you know?"
"Harry, I'm not interested in playing Twenty Questions with you." There were plenty of things I'd like to do with him, but that wasn't one of them. "If you don't want to talk after all, I'm going to go to my own room."