A/N: Since my muse for The Trouble with Mating has up and taken a vacation for like months now I figured I'd come bearing something as equally entertaining if not pointless.
These were written for the lj community 1sentence and are completely finished. Some of these sentences connect and other's don't. Don't worry each sentence could stand on its own it was just that there were points in time when the prompts just fell easily into place. Have fun reading the Remus/Harry mushiness.
Harry never felt loved, not truly loved anyway, certainly he got the sort of love one had that came with being a celebrity, an open admiration from an innocent spectator, but what he really wanted was the kind of love he knew would last, the kind that wouldn't waver when times got rough; he wanted the kind of love that you could only get from someone special, the kind that you would get from a lover; wistfully, he watched Ron sweep Hermione into his arms and wished not for the first time that someone would come give him the same comfort.
The first time he kissed Remus it had been unintentional, a slip up when he had had too much firewhiskey and not enough to eat; he brushed it off as nothing more than an accident, a freak moment in time where he hadn't been in control of his actions and had thought kissing the older man had been the right thing to do; he didn't wish to recall the faint buzzing noise in his ears that hadn't completely come from being intoxicated nor the way he had wondered at the fine quality of the man's hair; he also didn't wish to remember the slightly goofy smile that had resided on his face for the rest of the evening like he had done the impossible and survived despite all odds.
He couldn't be sure what the soft pressure on his forehead was through his drunken haze, it would take effort to unglue his eyelids and find out, but whatever it was didn't hurt, quite the opposite in fact, it felt wonderfully reassuring; it made him smile when he heard a gentle voice telling him to sleep.
If you could see Remus the day after he had taken Harry and his friends to a bar, you would say he was in severe pain, but unlike what you might think it wasn't a physical pain, this pain came from a much deeper place; pain caused by the knowledge that he could be considered perverted, a predator even, pain that wrenched at his soul because he knew he had no control over his own treacherous body; a sort of pain that makes you want to weep even though you know there is no possible way to ignore the way you are feeling; Remus was feeling this tenfold and there was no preventing it.
The soul fact that he wasn't feeling well kept him from shooing Harry away, sending the boy back to wherever he was staying at the time, he observed Harry carefully, taking in the young man's nervous stance, his soaked clothing, the blush creeping up his neck, and the dish in his hands; Remus could smell the potatoes from his place on his sofa, an afghan wrapped tightly around his shoulders to ward off the imaginary cold; warily, he watched Harry take the lid off the dish revealing a bowl of potato soup.
It was drizzling and standing on the front step without an umbrella in hand but a bowl of soup instead made Harry feel like an absolute fool, but he had to go confront the older man and steel himself for the rejection that would surely follow, so, standing in the rain didn't look half bad after all.
The last thing he had expected was to be offered chocolate, though upon later reflection he was glad he wasn't thrown out on his arse.
Even a week later Harry still couldn't believe that Remus had forgiven him, the only problem was he didn't want to be forgiven, not anymore, for a brief moment in time he had experienced a type of happiness he had never known, and now he was longing for something he knew he shouldn't.
Startled was the feeling he was experiencing when his telephone rang at 2:30 in the morning; only so many people knew what his phone number was, but a quick glance at the caller idea sent him scrambling for the receiver, "Hello?"
Remus' ears were burning, he hadn't meant to call so early in the morning, he hadn't wanted to call Harry at all, but he couldn't sleep, not this close to the full moon, and he figured that maybe a friendly voice wouldn't go amiss.
"Remus," he whispered the name like a prayer, there was no answer on the other line but he knew it was the man, he could hear his harsh breathing, the occasional gulp, but he never hung up the phone and he wouldn't until Remus did first.
There was nothing sensual about him at all, he could try as hard as he liked, but Remus never could quite seem to pull it off, not well anyways, he always came on too strong or not strong enough, maybe that was why he had so many relationship issues.
Sirius' death still played at the edges of Harry's mind late at night, it wouldn't be obvious to the casual observer but it was to Remus and he vowed the day he found Harry crying silently in the library at 12 Grimmauld place that he would never let Harry cry alone again.
He would be his first and his last, Harry was positive that after that, he was never going to leave Remus' side.
Just a single touch and Harry melted, his head tipped back, a small moan erupting from his mouth; Remus brushed his fingers over Harry's collarbone again.
Harry had never let anyone know what his one true weakness was; he wouldn't have even had one if it hadn't been for Remus and his chocolate.
Small droplets of water ran down the younger man's cheeks marring his skin, it tore Remus up inside to see his petite lover so desolate, but he knew there was nothing he could do but take the offending newspaper and burn it from front page to back.
Harry urged his broom to go faster through the battering rain, the speed he was rocketing through the air turning him into a blur, but still it would never be fast enough to escape.
The wind ruffled through Harry's hair, blowing the raven locks to one side, revealing the contemplative look on the green eyed man's face; Remus wanted nothing more than to know what his lover was thinking, but he wouldn't disrupt him.
Remus stared wearily at the ice-cold moon as it crested the top of the hill, he could feel Harry's lithe body pressed up behind me, his fragile arms wrapped securely around his midsection, the nervous breathing, this was it the final test, the one that would prove if Remus was truly free or not.
Harry smiled contentedly when he entered the door to their apartment, and the reason for his smile was obvious; Remus was laying prone on the couch, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, one hand dangling off the edge of the couch and the other hand thrown haphazardly across his face.
White angry jealousy coursed through the werewolves veins as he watched the ditzy little nobody cling to his lovers arm as if she had won him, Harry was his and nobody else's.
Remus's hands were a thing of worship to the raven-haired man; he could kneel before the older man for hours just admiring the marred flesh of his hands, the many dozens of scars they had gained from years of agony, Harry made it his aim to help the older man forget this past as often as possible, starting with the hands.
"You taste like chocolate," came a husky whisper with a hint of awe, Harry's mouth was once again being plundered by Remus' greedy tongue before he even got a chance to reply.
The full moon was drawing nearer, beads of sweat were forming on Remus' fevered brow and slowly trickling down his nose, his whole body was aching as it prepared for the shift, but there was a coolness suddenly pressing to his forehead and through his blurred vision he could just make out the concerned face of his lover who had been diligently sitting by his side
This couldn't go on forever, they both knew it was destined for failure when they jumped into it, there was just far too many factors pushing for them to fail and it worked.
Harry couldn't see out of one eye as blood trickled from the gash in his temple, his vision blurred as he was punched in the stomach then kicked in the shin, sinking to the cold stone floor crying out in pain, but he would never give in to them, no matter what they did to him.
He might not make it through the night; those seven dizzying words rang through Remus' head as he sunk into the lifeless metal chair in the waiting room of St. Mungo's, he wasn't allowed to see Harry even now when he might not make it through the night.
The soft melody haunted his sleeping thoughts, The razors and the dying roses, Plead I don't leave you alone, The demi-gods and hungry ghosts, God, god knows I'm not at home… Harry had been humming that song and now it chilled his soul.
His star was dimming and soon would blink out of existence if the damn healers didn't hurry and try to save him, he had been beaten brutally on the way home from work was the story they had given him, but they hadn't given him the why, and they why was the most crucial piece of information.
His house felt empty, he dropped his overnight bag on the hard wood floor wincing as the thud it created rang out through the silence, everything about the place felt wrong to him, the sofa, the kitchen, the library, the bedroom, the bathroom, everything, it was a funeral parlor yet nobody was dead, this was not what home was supposed to feel like.
Harry woke up alone and in pain, it seemed to be radiating from his stomach and consumed his whole body, he was confused and weak and in a soft mewling call he asked for the one man who could erase his confusion.
It had been five horrifying days, Remus had taken to drinking firewhiskey at odd hours of the night, when he got the most lonely, when the missing presence seemed to be haunting him the most.
Lightening raced across the sky so close the hair on Remus' arms raised, he had been waiting patiently for an owl telling him something, anything, but none had come and in this storm none would; he missed Harry, the younger man loved this weather, during a storm it was almost a certainty that he would be leaning on the railing of the porch with a soft smile.
Harry heard the door open to his hospital room but didn't move, he had been awake for over a day now and still Remus hadn't shown up, he obviously didn't care about him anymore and Harry had given up on looking every time the door opened, it wasn't worth it anymore; he fingered the small ring on his finger, twisting it unconsciously, the one symbol that told the world that he belonged to someone and that someone did not even care about the bond they shared anymore.
He wrapped his arm around the shorter man's shoulder and pulled him to his chest ignoring the disgusted comments that the other shoppers in the market were making about them, he felt Harry cling to his shirt trying to block out the spiteful words and Remus wanted nothing more than to Avada Kedavra the lot of them.
It had been Harry's idea to take this vacation and Remus hadn't had any objections until he got to the hotel desk, they handed him a plastic card thing and no key.
If he had known that the one small ring he had found in the attic would elicit such a response from his young lover, he would have given it to him sooner.
Sunlight danced across his face as he stepped out of the house and onto the front porch, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw something that even outshone the sun that morning; a smile so perfect and so carefree that it left the raven-haired man standing there breathlessly for one moment.
Harry cried out in anguish, Remus rolled over onto his side and immediately pulled the younger man against him; this ritual was one that never should have come into existence, nothing should have ever wiped the innocence from his lover's dreams, no one.
A sharp gasp, sweat beading, they were on a collision course with completion, friction, gripping, grabbing, tearing, a sharp inhale, a soft mewl, a quiet command and then bliss, mind numbing bliss swept over him and he blacked out with the intensity.
"It looks like a rabbit," Harry insisted, pointing up at one of the dozen clouds that littered the light blue sky; Remus grabbed the hand that was aimed heavenward, unclenched his fingers and kissed his palm, "Whatever you say, Harry."
Harry looked up at the sky wistfully, a small tear curling it's way down his cheek; Remus didn't move to wipe it off his lover's cheek knowing the slighter man needed this moment to collect himself; papers were known to lie, but they both knew this wasn't a lie and it hurt them both deeply, but it seemed to have hit Harry harder than himself
Heaven was lying in bed next to his lover, completely sated and without a worry on either mind.
Harry stared at the newspaper in his hands numb, the headline blared up at him as if to slap him in the face, his fingers curled angrily around the edge of the paper; "Who gave them the right, who the fucking hell gave them the right?" he swore not looking up at Remus, who he knew was standing in front of him, "Who gave them the fucking right?"
The sun kissed face smiled pleasantly at him as he was greeted good morning, and a good morning it was.
The full moon loomed above them and Remus broke out in a cold sweat, his body trembled as he watched it rise ever higher into the night sky, but nothing happened, no pain no sudden growth of hair, it had worked.
The waves crashed onto the sand, splashing cold water off both their bare feet, their pant legs were rolled up just below the knee and their hands were twined as they strolled casually down the beach.
He always liked the way Remus' hair smelled, a combination of musty books and a light peppermint that clung to him all day.
Their lives went out with a bang like a supernova exploding, but instead of creating a giant black hole, they left their fond memories and their love of their family and friends behind to shelter and provide comfort when they were most missed.