Truth Becomes You
A HariPo drabble
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. I've read a lot of Jamus recently, so I'd thought I'd give them a go. Read, review, and enjoy!
Once upon a time, the Shrieking Shack and their marauding games had been good, platonic fun.
But boys will be boys…and boys will grow up.
The Shrieking Shack had been Remus Lupin's refuge. Being a werewolf was a terrifying thing, and something to constantly remind him that—while he might've had friends then—he would eventually end up alone. There's no such thing as a cuddly little wolf, and Remus was far from being a puppy.
James, Sirius, and Peter… They were all good to him. Really good. It's not every day that one finds himself with not one but three friends ready and willing to learn far-too-complicated magic in order to be with him…protect him.
And it's also not every day that one is able to be un-manly and break down in the arms of his most masculine of friends.
James was goodhearted about it, too goodhearted. "What's wrong with that? You're human, Remus," he'd retorted.
"I'm a werewolf," Remus had corrected.
"Details," James had said, waving him off. "A werewolf is just a bloke who happens to turn into a wolf at full moons."
He made it sound as though Remus just left the castle for a moonlit stroll…though, when he'd voiced that, his friends had laughed and gotten him to laugh, as well.
"Isn't that essentially what you do?" Sirius had asked, tears in his eyes from laughing to hard.
James was the same way, but his laughter was softer, his eyes always coming to rest on Remus. "Ah, blokes," he said—though his eyes never left Remus' face—"we've come a long way."
"Y'know, I was thinking," Sirius said on a later night like that one. "We gave Rem his nickname long ago. I wanna nickname!"
"'Padfoot,'" James had answered. "Simple enough. You're a dog in your Animagus form, so…"
"I like it! But then what the hell does that make you?"
"'Deerly beloved,'" Remus stated with a snicker, and Sirius and Peter burst into peals of laughter as James threw several pillows at him.
But it's another late night like that one when the joke is made again, and Remus sees a different kind of smirk that never leaves James' eyes. At sixteen, they're between O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s and so there isn't much cause for concern when James cajoles Remus to lose a night of studying and take a midnight stroll with him—minus the full moon.
"Speaking of which, it's next week," Remus says. "Merlin, I feel like a bloody timer."
"Don't be that way," James states, offering him a hand as they come across a rocky bit on the green so Remus doesn't stumble. "It gives us time to prepare."
"Yeah… Hey, shall we check the shack? I can't remember if we replenished the stock of spare robes there."
He says it so easily and he's so comfortable around James that he doesn't notice that James never lets go of his hand, nor does Remus see the smile and slight shake of James' head, for James is A-okay making the underground trip to Hogsmeade. He's got a lot on his mind, too.
The path to and below the Whomping Willow is quiet and pleasant, the sound of their footsteps echoing around them. Despite knowing the route so well, James still manages to find a tree root to stub his toe on and consequently he slightly flails backwards. Remus steadies him, his hand at James' back. James thanks him and they move on, and Remus starts to grow warm around his neck because suddenly such a small touch doesn't feel so small…so insignificant.
Their journey that seemed long is suddenly over and they're in the Shrieking Shack. Remus tries to remember why they came here—Oh, right, extra robes—because he can barely concentrate when it's just cool enough yet just warm enough and there's James and James is taking his sweet time looking about the room and Remus just wants to blame the light of their wands for bathing James' neck in such an irresistible glow.
Remus is about to beg that they go back—he can't stand this feeling welling up within him when James is right there—so he checks on the robes and turns when James opens his mouth.
"Hey, Moony…Rem…what did you call me before?"
Remus stares at him quizzically as the Potter boy's eyes seem to—to graze the interior of the room. "You mean 'deerly beloved'?" he says with a nervous laugh.
"Call me that again." And James turns to him, faces him…and the look in his smoldering eyes tells him exactly what he means.
"James…" Remus swallows the lump in his throat. "Dearly beloved."
And it's that name, it's that responding smile that lets loose a fury of passion that Remus had only recently recognized in himself and now knows had been present in James awhile. There's the nipping, the licking, the biting, the loving and by the time nearly every bit of skin had been touched and kissed and they know they must return before the others realize they're missing, Remus has got it.
With a snicker as they spirit through the empty corridors, Remus takes a cue from James and boldly draws him to him. Despite having just spent themselves, Remus has enough energy to laugh. "With a member like that, you've got to be 'Prongs,' mate."
James laughs with a small groan thrown in and can't believe he's actually gotten Remus to use crude language in the least. But he gets Remus back right as they try to settle in their respective beds in the dormitory. "With moans like yours, no wonder that place is called the 'Shrieking Shack.'"
So…kinda fluffy, kinda lewd… XD But funny! Fyi, I won't ever write smut…but I've come close before, so who knows what else I might churn out for Jamus?
Thanks for reading and please review!