~*~

Sunday

"Where the hell are we?" Draco grumbled, releasing Snape's arm and shaking off the unpleasant sensation of apparition. It was far too dark to see much of anything at this hour, especially in so dark and dingy a place as the one he now found himself.

Snape ignored him and rapped on the battered door of the small house. The neighborhood was quiet and suburban, and it positively screamed "Muggle". It was the sort of place Draco didn't wish to be caught dead in. So to speak.

The door opened a crack and a weathered, familiar face peeked through. "You're late."

"Lupin?" Draco hissed, casting a scathing glance at Snape. "This is where you've brought me?"

Snape glowered at him, and Draco envied his ability to seem to tower over others, even those who were nearly the same height. "Inside, and be quiet about it."

Draco scowled and turned back to the door in time to see Lupin push it open and step back. Draco stalked past him into the dingy cottage, looking around with narrowed eyes. It appeared to have only a few rooms and was sparsely furnished with mismatched furniture, most of which had seen better days. He could see a tea kettle was heating on an ancient hob through a doorway leading into a dimly-lit kitchen, the only apparent sign that anyone lived here.

"I've made tea," Lupin said as he pushed past Draco and walked into the kitchen.

"No need to trouble yourself," Snape said, his tone one of barely masked impatience. "I won't be staying."

"You're just leaving me here?" Draco asked, turning to face him. "With the…" --he lowered his voice to a hiss-- "werewolf?"

"I expect he will manage to refrain from biting you," Snape retorted, glancing toward the kitchen.

"No matter how tempting he may be," Lupin said from the doorway. He smiled and held out a steaming mug to Draco, who ignored it.

"I'm tired of hiding," Draco spat. "I want to fight."

"You want revenge for your mother and father," Snape said. "We've been through this more times than I care to count, and you -- listen to me, boy!"

Draco flinched as Snape gripped his arm, fingers digging into his flesh. He dragged his gaze up to meet Snape's, trying his best to look defiant.

"The Dark Lord believes you dead, and it gives us an advantage. If you are seen, if anyone learns you are alive, he won't simply kill you. He will also kill me and every person who has helped to hide you these last months." He released Draco from his grip and straightened his cloak. "You may not care if you live or die, and neither do I, frankly -- but I will not allow you to endanger others who have put their own safety at risk on your behalf."

"You should have let her kill me," Draco retorted. "I'd be better off dead. And I didn't ask for your help."

"No," Snape replied, his voice steely and calm. "You did not." He nodded his head to Lupin and turned to the door. "I'll return for him at the end of the week. Use force to contain him, if necessary." With that, he opened the door and disappeared into the darkness.

Draco stared at the door for nearly a minute, half entertaining the idea of sprinting through it and running into the night. Of course, he wouldn't get far without a wand, and he'd never learned to apparate properly. Besides, it was cold outside, and he'd lost his warm cloak more than a month ago in a narrow escape from a band of Death Eaters.

"Have some tea," Lupin said, pressing the cup into his hand. "I'll show you where you're sleeping."

Lupin gestured him through a door into a small dusty room filled with boxes. A camp bed had been set up along one wall and a small folding table stood next to it, supporting a single lit candle.

Draco scowled, but said nothing. He'd slept in worse conditions, of course, but he was anything but grateful for Lupin's charity. On the contrary, he despised the fact that it was Lupin who was keeping him safe, hiding him from the Dark Lord and from his own aunt.

"Are you all right?" Lupin asked. He was standing in the doorway, watching Draco with a thoughtful expression. "Is there anything you want to talk about or--"

"I'm tired," Draco snapped, dropping his rucksack on the camp bed.

"Well, then," Lupin said, sounding hesitant. "Good night."

Draco didn't reply. He waited until the door was closed, and then stretched out on the small bed and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows flicker above him. A spider made its way across the ceiling slowly and steadily, finally disappearing into the darkness beyond the candle's glow.

Draco closed his eyes.

~*~

Monday

Draco didn't emerge from his room until nearly 10:00. He stumbled out in mismatched pyjamas and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Good morning," Lupin said, looking up from a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"What have you got to eat?" Draco asked. He looked around the small kitchen, wrinkling his nose at the grime that hadn't been so visible in the darkness the night before.

"Make yourself some toast, if you like," Lupin said, turning back to his paper. "If you want tea, put the kettle on."

Draco scowled, not bothering to swallow down his morning irritability. "I can't do magic. Besides, I've no idea how to make toast or tea."

"Then I suppose you'll go hungry," Lupin replied, his tone almost pleasant.

"You're the one with a wand," Draco retorted.

"And you are only here as a favor to Severus," Lupin replied, looking up again. "I will not wait on you, nor will I be ordered about in my own home. If you're hungry, fix your own food. If you're thirsty, find something to drink."

"Anything else?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes. Clean up after yourself. Don't make more noise than necessary. Don't go outside. And don't complain."

"What if I do?" Draco snorted. "Going to kick me out?"

"No," Lupin replied, his tone almost one of amusement. "I'll lock you in your room."

Draco clinched his jaw. "You wouldn't do that. You couldn't."

Lupin's smile did not extend to his eyes. "Try me."

Draco stood, pushing his chair back a little harder than was necessary, and stalked back to his room. He slammed the door and collapsed onto the unmade bed, clenching his fists in frustration.

He didn't ask for this. He neither needed nor wanted this protection. He would have been more than happy to die at the end of his aunt's wand, as punishment for not completing his task, or for his mother's betrayal of the Dark Lord, or for his father's deceit -- it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, not any more.

He stayed in his room all day, only coming out when the scent of something cooking began to fill the cottage, making his stomach growl. He pushed open the door and peeked out into the front room.

Lupin was sitting on a worn sofa, reading a book. He looked up at Draco.

"You should clean this place," Draco told him. "It's disgusting."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "You should take a shower. You stink."

Draco gritted his teeth. He'd like to have a shower, truth be told. It had been several days since he'd had an opportunity. "I came out to ask you for a towel, actually."

If Lupin saw through the lie, he gave no sign. Instead, he turned back to his book. "Under the sink. It's a Muggle hot water heater, so if you stay in too long, the water will go cold."

Draco turned to the door between his room and what he presumed was Lupin's and pushed it open to find a cramped bathroom. The towels were indeed under the free-standing sink, stacked on the dirty floor next to the toilet. The "shower" consisted of a length of tubing that stretched from the grimy bathtub's faucet up to a hook on the wall. A showerhead had been attached to the end of it, and the whole setup looked so precarious that Draco half-expected it to go flying around the room when he turned the water on.

It didn't though, and during the several minutes it took the water to heat up, Draco stripped out of his clothes and studied his reflection in the mirror. He badly needed a shave, but Lupin's razor was nowhere in sight. He released his grimy hair from the tie at the base of his neck and watched it fall around his shoulders. He wished he could cut it all off. He looked far too much like his father had done the last time Draco had seen him, gaunt and defeated after a year in Azkaban.

The spray of the shower felt good on his skin. He scrubbed himself thoroughly using the nub of blue soap that sat in the tray, almost using all of it. He washed his hair twice, determined to get it as clean as possible before the hot water ran out. But the water was still quite warm when he was done, so he let himself stand there, water sliding over his chest, streaming down his body. His hands drifted lower, one tugging at his dick and the other cupping his balls. He hadn't had a proper wank in days, either.

The water was beginning to chill, so he stroked himself hard and fast, his eyes squeezed shut. He braced one hand against the wall, grimacing as the water temperature fell below what he could bear. He paused long enough to switch it off before finishing himself off with a few more quick pulls, grunting as he came into the bathtub.

He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, panting. He'd needed that, more than he'd realized. He couldn't manage to wank in Snape's presence somehow, so the last few days of traveling with the man had only brought him more and more frustration. He hadn't had sex with anyone else in so long that he'd forgotten if it was any better than the pleasure he brought himself.

Lupin gave him an odd look when he walked into the kitchen, but Draco ignored it. He didn't care if Lupin had heard him wanking. The old perv probably got off on it.

"Set the table," Lupin said, turning back to something he was stirring in a large pot on the hob.

Draco made a face at Lupin's back, but moved to the shelf where the mismatched plates were stacked. He was hungry and the food smelled good, and he was already planning another wank when he got back to his room. He could put up with Lupin's shit for a while.

Dinner was a stew of some sort, and though it didn't look particularly appetizing, it was hearty and flavorful. Draco had three helpings, ignoring Lupin's smirk when he rose for the last.

"I haven't had a hot meal in days," Draco told him when he sat down again.

"Nor a hot shower, I take it?" Lupin asked, warming his fingers around the teacup.

Draco swallowed a mouthful of stew. "Do you have a razor I could use? And maybe some scissors?"

"Planning to slit your wrists, are you?" Lupin quipped.

Draco rolled his eyes in response.

When they had finished eating, Lupin cast a few dishwashing spells and put a kettle on. Draco watched the movements of his wand, wishing he had his own. He'd seen it snapped by Bellatrix, just before she'd hurled a killing curse at him. It had only been because of Snape's quick action that he'd managed to escape.

"This has been a difficult time for you, hasn't it?" Lupin asked, settling across from Draco.

Draco shrugged and studied his hands.

"Severus told me you've been in hiding for three months now, going from safe house to safe house, never staying anywhere more than a week. Hiding from the Dark Lord and his followers."

"It's not so bad," Draco said, frowning. He didn't like to talk about it, and Snape had always reminded him that the less he said, the better.

"Of course it is," Lupin said. "I know what it is to be in hiding, Draco. I know what it's like, how lonely it can be."

Draco snorted. "Are you offering to comfort me, then?"

Lupin's eyes flew open. "I… Sorry?"

Touché. Draco smirked. "Isn't that what you were getting at? You know what it's like to be lonely and on the run, and you can help me take my mind off it for a while?"

Lupin clenched his jaw and looked away. "That's not what I meant."

"Let me know if you change your mind," Draco said, standing. Lupin didn't look up, and Draco smiled as he headed back to his room. That had shut the werewolf up.

~*~

Tuesday

Draco lay in bed, his eyes clenched shut against the morning light as his hand pumped furiously under the blanket. He licked his lips and focused his thoughts, trying to dredge up an image from his past, of Pansy's dark head bobbing at his crotch, or Zabini's dark skin stretched out beneath him as Draco pounded into him.

But the image that kept returning was that of Lupin -- watching him through narrowed eyes and tugging at his own prick. In Draco's mind it was huge and red, almost dog-like, glistening at the tip as Lupin stroked himself.

Draco came with a strangled groan, pressing a pillow over his face and curling into himself.

He sighed and dropped the pillow to the floor, staring up at the ceiling. What the fuck? He didn't like old men. He liked young, hot men and women, preferably Purebloods. He didn't find Lupin attractive in the slightest, and the thought of fucking a halfbreed made him feel vaguely queasy. He was just desperate -- that must be it. And from the looks of it, so was Lupin.

Draco smirked at the ceiling. He needed something to occupy his time this week. Even if he was old and a werewolf, Lupin had a perfectly serviceable mouth and arse. He'd probably even be grateful for the chance to fuck someone like Draco.

A few minutes later, Draco emerged dressed only in his pyjama bottoms. He flopped onto the sofa beside Lupin and asked, "What are you reading?"

Lupin looked up from his book and stared at Draco for a full second, his eyes sliding over Draco's bare chest before he caught himself and met Draco's gaze. "Tom Clancy," he said, turning the book around so Draco could see the cover. "He's a Muggle writer. Are you… Did you want some breakfast?"

"I dunno," Draco said, yawning and settling back into the sofa cushions. "Still full from last night." He stretched out his legs and tucked his bare toes under Lupin's thighs.

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm cold," Draco said, his tone bordering on simpering. "It's bloody freezing in here."

"Then go put some clothes on," Lupin told him, looking back to his book with what appeared to be great effort.

Draco smirked. "Or you could keep me warm." The smirk melted into a smile when Lupin's head whipped around.

Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he dropped his book on the sofa table and stood. "I'm going to make tea," he said, and walked into the kitchen.

Draco was pretending to study the back cover of the paperback book when Lupin returned with two mugs. He handed one to Draco and sat on the other end of the sofa.

"What I said last night -- I didn't mean it that way."

Draco sipped his tea and smiled. "But I meant what I said. And I thought about it more, this morning while I was wanking." He paused to gage Lupin's reaction to that statement before continuing: Lupin frowned and swallowed a large mouthful of tea, then winced, as it was rather hot. "And I thought, why not? I'm horny, you're horny -- and it's not like we've got any other prospects."

Lupin made a coughing sound. "No other-- You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please," Draco said with an exasperated sigh. "Everyone at school knew you were queer. It's not a big deal."

Lupin started to laugh and then stopped himself. He placed his mug carefully on the sofa table and turned to face Draco. "I happen to be dating someone. And though I must admit that I'm flattered, I'm simply not interested." He smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Draco felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He'd just thrown himself at a man who should have been grateful Draco had even thought to give him a chance, and the response he got was... pity? Draco dropped his mug to the floor and stalked back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

~*~

Lupin left the house around midday, and Draco took advantage of the opportunity to make himself something to eat and rifle through Lupin's room for his razor. He showered and shaved, and was still alone when the sun set.

Lupin didn't return until well after dark. He didn't say where he'd been and Draco didn't ask. They both pretended the morning's conversation hadn't happened at all.

Draco helped Lupin prepare dinner without being asked, and they ate in silence. Lupin cast the cleaning spells afterwards, and they settled on opposite ends of the sofa in the front room. Draco had started reading a book he'd found in Lupin's bedroom, another novel by the same Muggle writer, and while Lupin had given him a sharp look, he didn't ask Draco where he'd got it. An hour passed before either of them spoke.

"Harry is coming by tomorrow," Lupin said, not looking up from his book. "So you'll need to stay in your room and keep quiet."

"Potter?" Draco asked, surprised. "Half of your Order knows I'm not dead. What's the big deal?"

"Harry doesn't know, and it's best he doesn't learn the truth."

"Keep him in the dark -- that was Dumbledore's philosophy as well, wasn't it?" Draco said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

"I'm surprised you have the courage to mention his name, considering what you did." Lupin's tone wasn't menacing, but was calm, almost curious.

Draco looked up. "I didn't kill him. And I didn't want to do it, either. In the end I didn't have to do it, so it doesn't matter now."

"The members of the Order know what happened that day, what Severus did to protect you. What Dumbledore did to protect you. You shouldn't speak of him so lightly." Remus turned back to his book.

Draco clenched his jaw and closed his book. "I didn't ask for this, you know. I didn't ask for any of it. I don't want to be protected. I'm not that fucking important."

"Some people think you are," Lupin replied, his voice low and soothing. "And they are willing to go to great lengths to protect you."

"And so I should be grateful, then?" Draco retorted. "I should throw myself at their feet and grovel? This wasn't my choice. I'm not grateful. I hate it!"

"You aren't the only one," Lupin replied with a sigh. "If you're going to throw a tantrum, I'm going to bed."

"You asked me before if I wanted to talk."

"Ah, is that what we're doing?" Lupin asked. He placed his book on the table and turned to face Draco. "Then by all means, talk. Vent. Tell me whatever it is you're so desperate to get out."

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it again. "I… already did."

"Surely that wasn't all of it? After all, you've had a miserable year, haven't you? Lost both your parents, forced to attempt a murder, tortured and almost killed, forced to live this existence for the foreseeable future, never knowing if you'll be caught and killed, always alone among strangers? It can't be easy."

Draco found he couldn't say anything in response to that, so he didn't reply. They sat there in silence for several minutes, and Draco grew more and more uncomfortable. He didn't like Lupin, and he certainly didn't want to feel dependent on him. But mostly, he didn't want anyone to feel sorry for him. He would rather be hated than pitied.

"At any rate, it's best for Harry if he doesn't know you're here," Lupin said at last. "He's never been much of an Occlumens, and you wouldn't want the Dark Lord to learn of your continuing existence through him, now would you?"

"I suppose not," Draco replied.

"Well, that's settled then," Lupin sighed, standing. "I'm going to bed."

Draco watched him disappear through the door to his room, and wondered what would happen if he followed, if he stripped out of his clothes and slipped into Lupin's bed in the darkness. Would he push Draco away?

"I hate you," Draco whispered towards the door, but the words sounded empty even to himself. He was tired of hating. It had done him little good up to now, after all.

Draco stayed up another hour reading by candlelight, only half-concentrating on the adventures of Muggles spies in America. The characters' faces looked familiar in his mind, and he could almost see himself there, struggling against a determined foe, with only luck and his wits to guide him. He finally closed the book and went to bed, taking the flickering candle with him.

~*~

Wednesday

Draco was banished to his room right after breakfast, since Lupin didn't know when Potter would turn up. He had cast a two-way silencing spell around the room so that not only could Draco not be heard, but he also couldn't hear anything beyond the walls, something Draco only figured out after pounding on the door for half an hour when he realized he was without any sort of toilet paper.

But Draco did have a small stack of Muggle mystery novels and enough food for the day, so he calmed himself down and settled in to wait. It was only after he'd finished the Clancy novel he'd started the night before that he began to go stir crazy.

He hadn't been held captive like this since Bellatrix had caught him in Snape's house at the end of the summer. She'd kept him locked in a closet for several days, only bringing him out to torture him and ask him questions he couldn't answer about his father's whereabouts. Snape had returned just in time to prevent her from killing him, casting a wordless conlabis that had knocked Draco out of the path of her avada kedavra, but made it look as it she'd hit him.

Draco was dead for an hour, technically -- he had no memory of the incident between his aunt's curse and waking up draped over Snape's shoulder in the darkness, being carried through a forest. He'd thought he was dead at that point.

Sometimes, he wished he was.

He started a new book, but found he couldn't concentrate. He wanked, but it wasn't enough to distract him. He finally began digging through some of the boxes in the room, looking for some sort of entertainment.

Unfortunately, the boxes seemed to be filled with worn-out, useless objects and old photos. He found a book that seemed to be a diary of sorts, but it turned out to have been written by a witch named Clara, and all she wrote about were the boys she had crushes on at school. Her girlish loopy handwriting became annoying after a while, and Draco tossed the diary back into its box before finding out if Pembroke Pickering ever kissed Clara or not.

He found a pair of scissors in another box and set about cutting his hair. With no mirror, he had no idea if he'd done a good job of it, but he'd stopped worrying about his appearance a long time ago. All that mattered now was that he didn't see his half-crazed father every time he looked in the mirror. It was quite short when he finished, just a few inches all over, but he thought it might help him blend in with Muggles better. As far as he could tell, Muggle men rarely wore their hair long, and he had no desire to stand out in a crowd any more than necessary.

He stretched out on the camp bed for a while and wondered if Potter had ever shown up. The boxes on that side of the room were piled high enough nearly to block out the windows, so he hadn't been able to look outside to watch for him to arrive. Lupin had expected him in the morning, and it had to be late afternoon by now. What were they doing in there -- knitting? Another idea of what they might be doing flickered across Draco's thoughts, and he scowled.

Lupin did say he was seeing someone, and he hadn't denied being queer. What if the person he was seeing was… Potter? Draco sat up at that thought and crouched by the door, trying to find a crack to peer through. There weren't any large enough, and he flopped back onto the camp bed again, feeling quite annoyed. What would Lupin see in someone like Potter, anyway? He was scrawny and wore stupid glasses, and he wasn't very good looking. Not that Draco looked so well himself these days, but surely he was more appealing than Potter.

Potter's visit came in the afternoon, it turned out, and he had stayed for dinner. It wasn't until quite late, when Draco had finally drifted to sleep after another hour of shouting at the door, that it opened.

"Draco?" Lupin asked, his silhouette visible in the doorframe. "Are you all right?"

Draco didn't answer. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, but his heart pounded in his chest. He wondered if Lupin could hear it. But it didn't matter -- Draco was angry at him, and he'd give him an earful in the morning.

Lupin lingered a moment longer, then turned and walked away. He left the door open, and despite his anger, Draco was grateful for it.

~*~

Thursday

"So how was Potter?" Draco asked as he settled at the table the next morning, struggling to keep his tone nonchalant.

Lupin looked up at Draco and blinked in surprise. "I see you cut your hair." When Draco didn't respond, Lupin sighed and began spreading jam on a piece of toast. "Harry is fine. He stayed later than I'd expected."

"I noticed," Draco replied. He made a snorting sound and warmed his fingers around his mug of tea. "I suppose that's who you're seeing, then?"

Lupin choked on his toast, and it was a moment before he could reply. "What… Harry?"

"You disappear for a day, and then he comes over for the evening and stays until quite late," Draco said, his fingers gripping the mug tightly. "It seems a logical conclusion."

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm not seeing Harry. But even if I were, it would be none of your business, would it?"

"I suppose not," Draco snapped. His annoyance increased inexplicably -- he ought to be relieved that Lupin and Potter weren't involved, but for some reason, he wasn't.

"Draco, look," Lupin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know things are difficult for you now, and it's perfectly natural for someone in your position to… feel some affection for those who protect you. After all, they're--"

"What the-- no!" Draco spat, gaping at Lupin. "That's not it at all!"

"I rejected your advances, and I'm sure that hurt your feelings."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Draco sat back in his chair, flabbergasted. "It wasn't about feelings, you dolt. I was horny, and you seemed interested, so I thought I'd ask. That's all it was!"

"Then why are you jealous of Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I'm not jealous!"

"Draco, it's all right--"

"Fuck you!" Draco shouted, pushing his chair back and standing. "You have no idea what it's like! You don't know what I feel!"

Lupin was on his feet and standing in front of Draco within a second, so quickly Draco stumbled backwards in surprise. Lupin put his hands on Draco's shoulders and said with a serious tone, "You're right. You're absolutely right. I shouldn't have presumed anything."

"You don't know!" was all Draco could think of to say. "You can't understand!" He felt a strange sort of panic rise within him, so big it threatened to overwhelm him, and he had to get away. He couldn't just stand here. He twisted out of Lupin's grip and sprinted for the front room and the door.

"Draco, no!" Lupin shouted, and Draco heard footsteps pounding behind him. He began to sprint, but just as his hand touched the doorknob, Lupin caught him from behind and tackled him to the floor.

"No!" Draco cried, struggling against Lupin's weight on him. "I don't… I can't…" But Lupin had his arms pinned on either side of his head on the floor, and he was sitting on Draco to hold him down. It was no use. Draco felt the fight drain out of him, leaving him limp on the floor.

"Draco, please," Lupin said, looking down at him with a tormented expression on his face. "Don't do this. Don't leave. I can help you, I promise."

"You can't," Draco said, surprised by the defeat he could hear in his own voice. "No one can. I'm as good as dead anyway."

Lupin stared at him for a long moment, and then sat back, releasing him. Draco sat up, rubbing at his wrists, and stared back. Lupin's expression was strange, almost confused, as if he weren't sure what to do next.

Draco had no idea where the impulse came from, but he didn't stop to think about it -- he lunged forward and kissed him. Lupin allowed it for much longer than Draco expected, even twining his fingers in Draco's hair before finally pushing him away.

"That's… This is a bad idea," Lupin said, looking away. "It isn't a good thing for either of us."

Draco wrapped his arms around Lupin's neck and tried to kiss him again, but Lupin turned his head. Draco kissed his neck instead, whispering pleas against his skin. "Come on. I'm not a virgin, you know, and I'm seventeen. We're both adults, so you needn't worry you're taking advantage."

Lupin groaned and caught Draco's hands. "But it would be taking advantage," he said, meeting Draco's gaze. "You aren't here by choice, and you can't deny that I have a certain amount of power over you."

Draco pressed his lips together, not sure how to express why this was so important to him. "I don't get to choose anything in my life any more, but I can choose this. It's all I can choose."

"I know," Lupin whispered, closing his eyes. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you at this moment, because I do. Merlin help me, I do. But it isn't the right thing to do. I'm not free to make that choice."

"I won't tell," Draco said. He moved to kiss Lupin again, but Lupin held him off. "It would just be sex, you know. Just… I dunno, comfort."

Lupin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Draco. I can't. I won't do that to…" He broke off and pushed himself to his feet, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "Look, I need to run some errands today. Will you be all right on your own?"

"You mean, will I try to run away?" Draco said, pressing his forehead to his knees. He sighed. "I've nowhere to go, have I?"

"No, you haven't," Lupin said. He crossed to gather his coat from one of the hooks on the wall and tucked his wand into an inside pocket. "I'll be out for a while. Can I get anything for you?"

"Vodka," Draco replied dryly. "A very large bottle."

Lupin's smile was tight, almost forced. "All right." He opened the door and stepped through it. Draco saw him cast a warding spell on it before disapparating. He wasn't sure if it was to keep him in or to keep others out, but at the moment, it didn't matter.

~*~

It was one of the longest days of Draco's life. The small house was eerily quiet except for the ticking of a clock above the mantel and the sound of Draco's own breathing. He found himself looking out of the window whenever he heard an unusual noise, and at some point, he realized he was waiting for Lupin to return.

He didn't know why this week felt so different, why Lupin was so different from the others who had hid him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who'd tried to talk to Draco, or to understand him. Or to treat him as a human being and not a Death Eater reject, a dead man walking.

He showered quickly, keeping the door open so he could hear if Lupin returned. He shaved, and trimmed his hair a bit more with the aid of the mirror, finally managing to make it look reasonably neat. He washed his clothes in the Muggle washing machine following the written instructions Lupin had left for him, then draped them over the radiator to dry. He rummaged through Lupin's closet for a ratty jumper and a pair of old jeans to wear. To his surprise, they fit him rather well.

He curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and tried to read, but his mind kept wandering back to the morning. He kept replaying the events in his mind, feeling more and more anguished and humiliated by the way he'd thrown himself at Lupin so shamelessly. But Lupin had been kind about it, far more kind than anyone had ever been to Draco.

It only made him feel worse.

It was nearly dark before Lupin returned. Along with whatever else he'd done, he'd been to the market and had purchased the makings of a simple meal. He'd picked up a few more books as well, and he handed them to Draco with instructions to take any that sounded interesting.

Draco offered to help cook, but Lupin shooed him out of the kitchen, saying there wasn't much to do. Draco settled on the sofa with his book again, but he could only stare at the pages. They might as well have been blank for all he read from them.

Lupin reappeared after about ten minutes, brandishing a bottle of vodka and two small glasses. It was the first reference to what had happened between them earlier that day, and Draco couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"It's Russian," Lupin told him as he poured each of them a glass. "I'm not much of a connoisseur, I'm afraid, but the man in the shop said it was good."

It was good, and it burned Draco's throat as he swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one go.

Lupin chuckled. "Those were the days. I'll sip mine, thanks."

Draco refilled his glass. "It's not as if either of us have anywhere to be tomorrow, is it?"

Remus took a sip of his vodka and stared down into his glass, swirling the liquid. "Severus is coming for you in the morning. He's found a way to take you out of the country."

Draco felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under him. They'd been trying to do that for months, as Draco would be safer if he were far away from anyone who might recognize him. He'd been looking forward to the prospect, because it meant he'd finally have a bit more freedom, could even feel normal again until the War ended and he could return to England.

But now -- he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"That's great news, isn't it?" Lupin asked, though his tone was far from enthusiastic.

"Yeah," Draco replied. He didn't understand what he was feeling. It wasn't as if he wanted to stay, but at the same time the thought of leaving made him feel miserable. "I don't… I…" He couldn't formulate his thoughts properly.

Lupin took a deep breath, then reached out and took Draco's hand. "You'll be safe, and that's what's important. You aren't safe here, and you know that."

"I know." Draco chewed his lower lip, trying to quell the sense of desperation that was building within him. He didn't understand what he was feeling. It couldn't be that he felt anything for Lupin -- could it? He'd only been there a few days. It made no sense.

Lupin squeezed Draco's hand and stood. "I believe dinner is ready."

They ate in silence, though there was a palpable tension between them. Draco kept his eyes fixed on his plate; he spared a glance up at Lupin every now and then to see that he was doing the same. The food was simple, a one-dish affair, and they drank the wine left over from Lupin's dinner with Potter the night before. Draco kept reminding himself that this was the last dinner he'd have with Lupin in this dingy little cottage, which he'd come to regard as cozy and well-worn at sometime during the last few days. He'd already passed several lasts, without even knowing it. The last time he'd sit in this silent house, reading one of Lupin's Muggle novels. The last time he'd shower in that cramped bathroom. The last time he'd wait for Lupin to come home.

Draco put down his fork and looked up at Lupin to see he was looking back. "Just once," Draco said. "Please. Just tonight."

Lupin stared at him for a long moment, his expression guarded. He seemed to be thinking, and Draco could almost see the wheels turning in his head. At last he put his fork carefully next to his plate, downed the remainder of his wine, and looked back up at Draco. He nodded.

Draco gasped before he could stop himself. He hadn't expected it, no matter how much he'd wished for it. He stared at Lupin for another moment before emptying his own wine glass and pushing to his feet. He was shaking when Lupin walked around the table and stopped in front of him. Lupin cupped Draco's face with his hands and moved closer, and it seemed to take forever for their lips to meet.

It was nothing like the kiss they'd shared earlier; in fact, it was nothing like any kiss Draco had ever experienced. He couldn't remember ever feeling so much raw need as this, as if his nerves were all on fire at once. His cock was already hard, and if Lupin touched him, he thought he might burst.

Lupin broke the kiss, panting, and said, "Bedroom," in a hoarse whisper. They had half their clothes off before they reached the door, and stripped the rest off as rapidly as possible before launching themselves at each other. The bed was old and creaky and sagged in the middle, but Draco didn't care. He just wanted to feel Lupin's arms around him, his mouth on him, his weight over him.

The room was dark, too dark too see clearly, but it didn't matter. Draco worked his way down Lupin's torso, his fingers and lips moving over what must be scars. He mapped them in his mind as he moved, wondering if he'd ever see them in the light of day. When he finally swallowed Lupin's cock, he heard a groan above him, and it spurred him to do this well. He'd given a handful of blow jobs before, but this was the first time he really enjoyed it. He relished every shudder and moan, every twitch of the shaft between his lips, and when Lupin pushed his head away, he was actually disappointed not to have had the chance to finish.

"I don't want to come yet," Lupin panted, tugging Draco up over him.

Their cocks brushed together, and Draco hissed at the sensation. "Can I fuck you?" he asked, bending down to kiss Lupin's open mouth.

"God, yes," Lupin replied, lunging up to deepen the kiss.

After a short break to locate something to use as lubricant, Draco was kneeling between Lupin's thighs, pressing his slicked cock against what he hoped was Lupin's arsehole. He hadn't known men could have sex in this position; he and Zabini had always done it differently. Lupin's hand helped guide him to the right spot and Draco pushed in with less effort than he expected.

Lupin was panting beneath him, but Draco couldn't tell if he was in pain or not. He pushed in as far as he could and waited, willing his arms not to tremble. Lupin's body was tight and hot around his cock, and it was all he could do not to thrust.

"God, that's… it's been a while."

"Am I hurting you?" Draco asked.

"In a good way," Lupin replied, his voice tight. His hands found Draco's hips and pushed. "Go."

Draco grinned in the darkness and started to move. It felt amazing, different than being inside Zabini or Pansy, and better, in a way. Lupin was vocal about what he wanted, telling Draco to speed up or slow down, or to angle his thrusts just so, and it was enough to distract Draco from coming right away. Lupin's hand moved between them, pulling on his own cock, fingers brushing against Draco's belly.

"Yes, like that, just like that…" Lupin's hand was moving fast, and Draco was sweating with the effort of maintaining the rhythm, but it was absolutely the best sex of his life. He'd never been with someone who knew exactly what they wanted, and it was more erotic than he ever could have guessed.

Lupin cried out and tensed beneath Draco, and Draco felt his arse clenching around his cock as he came. It seemed to last forever, and Draco could only ride it out, astounded he had lasted as long as he had. He felt his own climax begin as Lupin's ended, and he cried out as it washed over him. He usually wasn't very vocal during sex -- years in a boarding school had taken their toll -- but he couldn't help it. It was overwhelming, and he collapsed against Lupin's chest afterwards, boneless.

Lupin's fingers stroked his back and his lips pressed against Draco's forehead, and neither of them spoke. Draco pulled away and accepted the towel Lupin offered to clean himself off, then settled beside him.

"This really is a horrid bed," Draco said, shifting. "I think the camp bed is more comfortable."

Lupin laughed. "I've been wondering if it would be. Maybe I'll sleep there after you…" He didn't finish the sentence.

"I don't want to go," Draco whispered, so softly he wasn't sure Lupin had heard him.

"I know," Lupin replied. He twined their fingers together, and Draco could almost make out the expression on his face in the moonlight. "It's just as well you go now, though. The full moon is next week, and you don't want to be around for that."

Draco started: he had forgotten Lupin was a werewolf. All week he had insisted that Lupin couldn't possibly understand his isolation, but he'd been wrong. This was Lupin's life, and he probably understood better than anyone what Draco was feeling. He sighed and pressed his forehead against Lupin's shoulder. "God, I'm such a twat. I'm sorry."

"I know," Lupin replied. He sounded like he was smiling.

They made love two more times that night. The first time, Lupin used his tongue and fingers to open Draco's arse, finally sliding into him and giving Draco one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had in his life. The second time, as the sun was just appearing on the horizon, Lupin took his time sucking Draco's cock, doing things with his tongue Draco hadn't even imagined before. He slid a slick finger into Draco's arse just before he came, and Draco shouted so loud he was sure he'd awakened the neighbors.

They remained wrapped around each other until the sun was high in the sky and it was officially, undeniably morning.

"You should get cleaned up," Lupin said at last, tightening his arms around Draco. "Severus will be here soon."

Draco sighed. The moment his feet touched the floor, it would be over. The spell would be broken, and that would be all. He might never see Lupin again.

But what did he expect? It couldn't be different. It wasn't as if they could have a relationship. And Draco wasn't certain that he wanted that -- he simply felt safe with Lupin, safer than he'd felt in years. He didn't know when he would feel that again.

Draco kissed Lupin one more time, then sat up and pushed off the bed. His feet touched the cold floor, and he shivered.

~*~

Friday

"Your owl should be able to find me," Snape said, adjusting his traveling cloak about his shoulders. "As soon as I find Draco a safe hiding place, I'll return."

Lupin smiled and nodded, but his eyes were sad, almost empty. "And you can owl me as well, Draco. If you wish."

Draco swallowed and nodded, shifting uneasily on his feet. He didn't want Snape to be suspicious, but behaving as if the previous night hadn't happened was excruciating.

"We should leave," Snape said, glancing at Draco. "I hope you weren't too much of a nuisance."

"Now, Severus," Lupin said, "he's not a child."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Lupin, but said nothing further. He turned and opened the door. Draco and Lupin stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say.

Finally, Lupin pulled Draco into a hug. "Write to me," he whispered. "And don't dwell too much on things that cannot be."

Draco nodded, closing his eyes, and savored the contact. A moment later, Lupin pulled away and smiled. Draco smiled back, then turned to follow Snape through the door.

The morning sunlight was bright, so bright Draco had to squint against it. He felt lightheaded in that way one only does after a night of not sleeping, and he felt numb after saying goodbye to Lupin. Later, he would feel something, but for now he pushed it away. Lupin was right. It did him no good to dwell on feelings that would only drag him down.

"Ready?" Snape asked, holding out his arm.

Draco nodded and took it, and they disapparated.

~*~

fin