n o . h a r m . b u t . n o . c e r t a i n . g o o d

No Harm, But No Certain Good
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: None of this romance shite for us, she says.

Notes: Thanks to Laura Smith for the beta. Written for Thieving Gypsy in the Erotic Elves Fantasy Fest. The request was: Remus/Lily. Not in love, just good friends. Not in love at all. No, really. Honest. Not. Title inspired by, and quote from "Meaningful Love" by John Ashbery.

Date: August 7, 2005

There was no harm in loving then,
no certain good either.

He watches her lips as she speaks. Remus, she says, and fuck. One day soon, maybe even today, he knows she'll tell him they have to stop, they can't do this -- this being the slide of her soft, pale body beneath his, shining ivory bright and beautiful as he moves inside her -- anymore, and the thought makes his heart seize in his chest.

Please don't, he thinks, but a choked, please, is all he can manage, lost in the slick, tight heat of her body, the brilliant green of her eyes.

She reaches up and strokes his cheek with gentle fingers, dipping her thumb into his mouth. He sucks at it, tasting sweat and soap and Lily. Her other hand moves between them and he glances down to see her touching herself, to see his cock sliding in and out of her cunt. He revels in the way he fits inside her, the way she tightens around him, pulling him deeper, as if she wants him there as much as he wants to be there.

It's not love, she says, and when he tries to argue that it is, that friendship is as pure a form of love as any, she laughs and says, Of course it is, silly, but he knows friends don't do the things he and Lily do when they sneak off alone together. He knows James and Sirius don't, despite the rumors the Slytherins spread about them; he'd be able to smell it on them if they did, because they wouldn't bother with cleaning charms. They would never be ashamed. He tries not to think about what he might do with either of them if he had the chance; his stomach twists in strange ways and he pretends he doesn't feel it, imagines instead Lily's mouth tight and wet around his prick, the taste and feel of her cunt on his tongue, her breasts warm and heavy in his hands as they fuck.

And she minces no words with him, either. They are friends and they are fucking. None of this romance shite for us, she says, climbing into his lap and kissing him, all eager tongue and fingers. I don't need you to buy me flowers, and you don't need to swagger around like an arse because I'm 'yours.' People don't belong to other people. He tries to tell her that sometimes people belong with other people, but she doesn't listen.

She passes notes to him in class sometimes -- Fancy a fuck after Charms? or I brought myself off this morning imagining my hand was your mouth. He desperately wants to save them, but the chance of James finding out is too great, so he sets them on fire, feeds them to the squid, banishes them to far away places where nobody will recognize the odd backslant of her handwriting and the fat, round loops of her gees.

Any other boy would be thrilled -- he gets all the benefits of having a girlfriend and none of the irritations. But of course, he has to be different, yet again.

It's not love, she says, and he pretends to agree, because of course, she doesn't love him. Why should she, when she is beautiful and talented and could have anybody she wanted, and he is a werewolf, and will never be anything else in the eyes of the world? Sometimes he doesn't think he's anything else even in the eyes of his friends. If we fell in love, she tells him, we'd have to stop doing this, because there would be too many expectations, too many disappointments. Too many ways to get hurt.

It's not love to her, he knows, because if it were, she'd want the world to know it, and neither of them do -- he because he has no wish to die at James's hands, she because she says it's nobody's business but theirs, but he thinks she's ashamed of him. He doesn't blame her.

He slides his hands down her body, over the soft swell of her belly and the sinuous curve of her hips, and she wraps her legs around him, urging him on with low, rough cries of harder, Remus, and I swear, I won't break. He wonders in the small part of his mind not utterly consumed by heat and need and pleasure if she realizes that he will, that he is, that every time they do this (he has kept count; seventeen times, one for every year of their lives and once for good luck), the cracks in his façade grow a little wider, and soon he will shatter into a million pieces.

He knows she will not be there to pick them up.

His speeds his pace, the thought making him desperate, angry, sad for something that hasn't ended yet but will soon, because everything ends. One thing he has learned, even at the tender age of sixteen, is that good things never last. She's right about that.

She moans low in her throat, and he leans forward to capture her lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing her curses as she comes, her body tightening its hold on him until he pours himself into her, wishing he could stay inside her forever as the world goes white behind his eyes.

He holds her close afterward, and she lets him, sighing sleepily and wrapping herself in his arms. They don't do this part often -- it is hard to find privacy, even in a castle the size of Hogwarts, and he thinks James might be getting suspicious about the number of prefects' meetings they disappear to together. But today she falls asleep and he watches her, his hand pressed over her heart and her fingers twined with his.

Her eyes when she wakes are soft, and her mouth curves in a warm smile, but he sees the realization dawn. Her expression becomes frightened, guarded. It is almost like looking in a mirror. She pulls away and dresses quickly; their usual ease and banter is gone.

Her jaw is tight and her voice is rough when she says, "It's been fun, Remus, but this is the end."

In that moment, he learns it's possible to feel both elated (she loves me) and devastated (she hates me because she loves me) at the same time. She won't meet his eyes, but her head is held high as she slips from the room, leaving him half-dressed and alone.

end

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