It was around three in the morning when he finally returned to his room. He had barely made it through the door before he collapsed onto the floor. His skin was covered in thick glitter and sweat and he felt like a mass of limbs.
The carpet smelled of woman's perfume and sweat. It couldn't have possibly been any more comfortable, but he still couldn't sleep. Music pounded in his ears and a million eyes stared at him.
It wasn't long before the door opened and a heavy set of hands lifted him from the floor like a rag doll. He immediately smelled semen and filth…he wanted to vomit.
"You did well, cub." Greyback lowered him onto his bed over the tangle of silk covers. "You won't have to work for a little while, as a reward."
He didn't have the strength to respond. It seemed as if his limbs were filled with sand. Breathing seemed too taxing. Greyback slipped a hand under his "cub's" back and lifted him slightly to slide the skirt off his hips.
"Shouldn't sleep in your clothes, cub." Greyback pulled off Remus' blouse and the hands disappeared for a few moments. They reappeared on his ankles and worked off the heels. Remus heard the dual click of his shoes falling to the ground, but the hands stayed and wandered up his calves.
Remus groaned when slow, strong circles were kneaded into his muscles. He tried to move away, but he was too tired. Besides, what Greyback wanted he couldn't refuse.
Greyback pressed his lips inside Remus' thigh. "You can do whatever you like tomorrow. Go wherever you want. The pack was pleased with your performance. I'll even give you some money so you can get a new book."
Greyback's voice was sweet, dulcet. It ran shivers up Remus' spine in the most unpleasant way.
"Mm," Greyback nipped at Remus' hipbone and kissed his lower stomach, leaving moisture wherever his mouth went. Remus felt dirty just lying there. "You were stunning tonight."
Remus sighed and closed his eyes. The promise of books and a hiatus in work was enough to keep him quiet when Greyback parted his legs and settled in between them.
"I'm not going, James. They can't make me." Sirius turned to view his backside in the mirror. "I should've left that house when I got the chance. Damn it, I'm an idiot. I have plans that weekend."
"No you don't, you tosser." James laughed, "I would know if you did."
Sirius glared and him. "Still don't want to go."
"I'll be there."
"Peter will be there."
"Yeah." Sirius turned to the tailor. "Can I get this hemmed?"
"Yes, Mr Black."
Sirius pulled the dress robe over his head and handed it to the witch. "Alright, I'll take them then." He handed her a fist full of galleons. "Let's get out of here. I'll come back for the fitting later."
James shrugged and followed Sirius to the counter where the woman was boxing his robes. "Fine. Where do you want to go?"
"I dunno. Anywhere."
"I'm supposed to meet Lily at Flourish and Blots in a few. Wanna come?"
"Yeah," Sirius said idly—he was already beginning to get bored, "Sure."
Diagon Alley was relatively empty. A few witches idled about, gossiping shrilly and looking in shop windows. A group of solemn-faced wizards walked past them on their way to The Leaky Cauldron. Otherwise it was abandoned.
War did that to people.
"You're lucky you've got Lily, mate." Sirius commented as they passed the book display.
James opened the door of the bookshop. "Yeah, I know. The luckiest."
Sirus filed in after James, holding the door behind him with an outstretched arm for the next person.
The person behind him mumbled a quiet 'thank you.'
"Yeah, no problem." Sirius pushed past James towards a bookshelf labeled Quidditch Instruction. "I dunno, mate. Maybe I'll pick up a bird at this thing or something, I mean it wouldn't hurt. Even Peter's got tha—James?"
James was staring openly at the other customer who had come in behind Sirius. He was pale and his mouth was open wide. Sirius followed his gaze and his jaw went slack.
The man froze, book still in hand, but he didn't turn. Instead he flipped a page and bent his head even more.
"Moony!" Sirius tried again, making his way through the shelves. "Merlin, Remus, where have you be—"
The man closed his book and stuffed it into the shelf hastily. He turned around briskly, head still angled oddly. "I'm sorry, sir. You must have the wrong person."
Sirius' brow knitted. Remus wouldn't look him in the eye.
"Remus, come off it. I know it's you. I thought you were...why didn't you...we just haven't seen you since—"
"You have the wrong person." He looked up, desperation in his eyes. He was definitely Remus. Paler. Thinner. With longer hair. But definitely Remus. Remus in panic. A panic Sirius had never seen before. "Please leave me alone."
He made his way towards the door, still walking, but at a fast clip.
The man took off in a dead run.
Sirius sprinted after him, just in time to catch him rounding a corner into an alley. He pushed past a gaggle of witches running after Remus so fast that he couldn't feel his feet.
He didn't remember Remus being such a fast runner.
He followed him down another alleyway. This one was a dead end—a tall brick wall of another building. Remus kept running at full speed.
"Remus?" Sirius slowed down to a trot and watched as his boyhood friend ran straight up a brick wall and bound off over the rooftops.
"What the hell…"
Far away from Diagon Alley in another district entirely, Remus slumped against a wall, struggling to catch his breath from the run. He leaned his head against the cool brick, trying desperately to stop shaking.
You shouldn't have gone in.
"I know," he whispered between gasps.
You recognized them. Especially Sirius. You should have run.
"I didn't think they'd recognize me." Remus was close to sobbing.
You wanted to see them again.
"Of course I did! I hadn't seen them since Hogwarts…I didn't know if they were—"
It was stupid. What if Sirius had caught you?
"—dead or not. Sirius looked good, don't you think? So did James. They've both gotten some height on them. And did you hear? James is still seeing Lily. I wonder if they're going to get married. If she's doing okay. Sirius hasn't found someone yet. I mean, he will, but…"
Greyback will kill you when he finds out.
Remus nodded though it made his head throb. He stood up shakily and started running again. He had a long way home.
Remus was on the floor reading one of his old books when he felt meaty arms wrap around his waist. "Hello, cub." A scruffy face nestled into Remus' neck. "You smell delicious. You shower?"
"Mmm, I'd love to simply devour you."
Remus felt a brush of teeth against his skin. The book slipped from his hands.
"Would you, now?"
Greyback grinned. There was blood on his yellowing teeth and he smelled foul. Like rotting death. "Mm, I've missed you, cub. I had a long day without you. Did you miss me?"
"Of course…" Milk it"…Master."
Greyback closed his eyes and growled low in his chest. He thrust himself over Remus, pressing the smaller werewolf onto his stomach. "You were always so good, cub. Even when you were younger. So submissive." Greyback threaded his fingers through Remus' hair and pushed his head into the ground forcefully. Remus' check pressed against the cold floor. "But you want to fight, don't you?" He yanked Remus' head back and dipped his mouth in against Remus' jugular. "Don't you?"
Stay silent. Silent.
Greyback snarled and sunk his teeth into Remus' throat. Despite himself, Remus moaned in pain. He felt the blood run down his neck and drip onto the floor beneath him. Some of it seeped into the collar of his shirt.
"You look awfully pretty, even in your street clothes." Greyback licked up Remus' neck, moaning at the taste of his blood. "Though I think you'd look prettier without them."
"How do you want it? Tell me."
Greyback pulled away and smiled. Remus' blood trickled down his chin and Remus shivered beneath him. There were few things more terrifying than seeing your blood in someone's mouth.
Remus gasped and jerked violently when Greyback suddenly tore off his trousers. He was—for all of Greyback's purposes—completely naked. Remus hadn't owned a proper pair of pants since he lost his wand.
He hadn't used a wand since his seventh year of school.
"Moan for me, cub." Greyback pressed his forearm against Remus' shoulder blades and pulled himself out of his trousers with the free hand. Remus felt Greyback—angry and sharp—against his lower back. He forced an aroused moan, but tried to remain as removed as possible. He found this entire procedure was less painful, less difficult if he thought of something...anything...else.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows…
Greyback thrust into him suddenly, painfully. Remus whimpered in pain, but Greyback didn't hear it over his own grunting. For that he was grateful.
…where oxlips and the nodding violet grows…
"Move, cub. Move for me."
…quite o'er canopied with luscious woodbine…
"Fuck it." Greyback wrapped an arm around Remus' waist and shoved him upwards against himself. Remus gritted his teeth in pain.
…With sweet muskroses and…
Greyback's pace increased until he was howling and pounding into Remus. Remus grit his jaw and focused, trying to think of the next line. The next word. Something else. Greyback came hard and collapsed atop Remus, panting heavily. Sweat slicked between them.
Greyback rolled off of Remus and grinned down at him. "You didn't even come, cub." The blood smeared over his face was already starting to dry. It made Remus' stomach clench uncomfortably.
Remus quietly rolled onto his back and reached down for his trousers. Greyback grabbed his hands before he could.
"You're a funny creature, cub. I'm quite pleased. The Malfoys are hosting a party this weekend. You will attend. I'll have one of the other pack mates find you something to wear." Greyback stood and left Remus' room.
Remus lifted his trousers up around his hips and picked up his book again to read.
Author's Note: Alright, alright. I know how this must look. But there is rhyme, there is reason. It will be explained.
And, for the record, Remus' "occupation" is based off of a practice in Afghanistan called "bacha bazi." Young, feminine boys are kidnapped and sold between men as entertainers. They are to dress as women and dance for parties. It is a sign of status to have many "bacha bareesh" and it seems like something that Fenrir Greyback would find appealing.
Of course, there is no offense intended, but this practice has become something very akin--if not identical--to human trafficking. This may seem somewhat "sexy" in this story, but I assure you the reality is anything but. If you are curious, I advise looking it up.
Credit for "I know a bank..." goes to William Shakespeare.