Remus Lupin was a highly educated, scholastically minded, well-read wizard. To say that he'd not expected to spend the better part of his twenties in a specialised niche of the sex trade would be an understatement. It was the last thing he'd thought he'd do when he left school.
A few years later, with no friends or family to speak of and debts that needed to be paid, he'd fallen into the business. Sex work wasn't an unusual trade among werewolves, and although pimping was illegal, the independent work Remus did was strictly on the up and up -- if a bit seedy.
It lasted until he aged out of the trade. He started to lose work to younger men, and he took it as a sign, saved up as much money as he could to help him get established, and presented himself as a teacher -- a profession much more in line with the sort of work he'd always imagined he'd do. A few years later, he was offered a position at Hogwarts, and after that ... there was Sirius.
They'd fucked a few times in the three years after they'd left school, but it was never more than friendly. But when Sirius came out of Azkaban and older and more broken man, Remus had seen something in him that had never been there before, but which was familiar none the less. Sirius needed to surrender control. Remus could give him that.
It took time to work up to explaining it all to Tonks after Sirius was gone. She listened. She said she didn't judge -- not for his old occupation, not for his relationship with Sirius. She loved him and she offered him a clean break. If there was a certain amount of judgement built in to the notion that he wanted someone to offer him a clean break, he forgave her for that. If she assumed that he regretted the path his life had taken, it was because he had never corrected that assumption. And if he missed the dynamics of being in control and helping someone else surrender, he had only himself to blame for giving it up.
Then Harry asked him out for a drink one evening. He started out quiet, sipping. At first, Remus thought he'd simply wanted out of the house, but after the second drink, he could tell that Harry wanted to talk to him about something.
"I saw you -- with Sirius. Not doing anything," Harry added hurriedly. "Just ... the way the two of you were together. I could tell there was something there."
Remus smiled. "Years of friendship. And ... more than friendship."
"You made him calm," Harry said. Remus had never heard it put that way, but it worked. Taking control away from Sirius had given him a kind of rest he couldn't find any other way.
There was a longing in Harry's voice that Remus knew right away. Still, he hesitated before asking, "Harry, is that ... something you're looking for?"
It took a special kind of bastard to fuck the son of a long-dead friend, the godchild of a former lover, but Harry was a grown man, and Remus chose to see this as something noble. Submission could be a kind of therapy.
It was clear as soon as they arrived that Harry wasn't used to places that charged by the hour. He wasn't comfortable with the idea that the woman running the counter knew they were there to have sex, could guess that at least one of them was married, and had seen it all so many times that she'd stopped questioning it. That part was familiar to Remus, so he took control. It wouldn't be the first time that afternoon.
They'd met up for drinks several times over the past six weeks. The first few times, they just talked. Harry always made sure to say how much he loved Ginny. He loved her. But after a drink, he'd confess to encounters in public loos, to getting drunk so that somehow it seemed like a surprise when he ended up fucking a stranger. The more they spoke, the more sure Remus was that he could help him.
So they agreed to meet -- not for drinks this time. That was understood.
That first time, it was all about following directions. Don't touch. Don't come until I say you can. Maybe next time if you're very good.
It turned out that Harry could be a very good boy. And that whether or not Remus had ever planned to end up doing this, much less doing it again, it had become more a part of him than he'd ever realised.
After the first time, they agreed to meet again the following Friday. And the Friday after that. Two months later they'd met every week. Remus would nearly always get dressed and leave first. Sometimes they would talk after, but mostly they didn't. Mostly they lay in silence for a few minutes, catching their breath.
Remus had been tossing the idea around in his head for several weeks. He saw himself as a mentor in a way, introducing Harry to this part of himself and giving him a safe way to explore. Eventually, he had to ask.
"Did you ever ask Ginny if ... maybe she might be able to do this for you?" It wasn't that Remus didn't want to be the one Harry went to for this sort of release -- but Harry seemed determined to make his marriage work. "You might be happier if it was something the two of you shared."
Harry was quiet for a moment. He was staring at his jacket draped over the back of a chair. Remus knew by now that was where Harry kept his wedding ring when they were together.
He finally turned in the bed to look at Remus. "Have you ever asked Tonks if she'd be willing to do this for you?" They both knew the answer already. "When you need something, you find it where you can get it."
Remus brushed Harry's fringe back from his forehead. "Next Friday?"