Disclaimer: Remus, Harry and Sirius don't belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own sick pleasure.

Warning: SLASH! Very mild, but it's there. And teacher/student relations. Nothing more then PG though. AT this point. Who knows how far I'll take this.

Dedication: To the Remus-N-Harry mailing list. :-) Hope ya'll like it!

Author's Note: Wasn't planning on doing the next part of this so soon, but it just keeps playing out in my mind. I can't seem to stop it, and I have a little while to kill, so I'm writing. And sorry Brendan, but I'm not writing this installment naked. :-D

An Interesting Talk

Chapter 2 of A Fond Rememberance

I sit, staring into the dancing flames that are at play in my hearth, lost in my thoughts. I have a blanket pulled over my lap. Despite the warm weather, my room is cold. I sigh, reaching for the cup of tea that rests beside me on the table. How have I come to this? How have I found myself in this position, in this situation? I always find myself walking a thin line, caught between two difficult choices. It seems to be my lot in life.

I care for Harry. There is no denying that. And it is not just because of what I used to feel for James. I am certain now that that was just an excuse, something to pacify my rigid Gryffindor morals. I have become quite goof at lying to myself, convincing myself of my feelings. It is much easier that way. I am only fond of the boy because I was fond of his father. It is...understandable. There is no other reason I would find myself yearning for a seventeen year old boy.

But he isn't a boy. And I am not an old man, no matter that is how I classify it. I am older, yes, but Sirius is right. We have not yet hit our prime. Our kind live far longer then muggles, and my kind even longer. I can easily pass for mid twenties, instead of the late thirty that I am. And Harry is mature for his age. He has aged beyond his years. He has been through more in his seventeen years than many experience in a lifetime. But...I cannot accept it. There is nearly a twenty year age difference. I am old enough to be his father. Why would he want me? That is what I cannot accept. That he would truly want me. A schoolboy crush I can understand. We all have them. I remember in my own school years, our Muggle Studies professor was a very attractive younger woman who had most of the third years and up on the edge of their seats. But to plan his life around me...

I cannot have Harry do that. It would not be fair. He would realize that what he truly felt was nothing more then infatuation. And then he would grow to resent me. He would be trapped in the life he chose. Much as it pains me to do so, I know I must let him go. Not that I had him in the first place. It will not be hard. It isn't as though I am alone, or without friends and lovers. I have grown beyond love, I believe. There is no place for it in my life. I have my job. Dumbledore was quite eager to hire me on as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I am, more or less, accepted in society. I proved myself enough times that they do not fear me.

There is a knock at my door. It is most likely Sirius, here to try and convince me to pursue Harry more. I sigh, not bothering to tear my gaze away from the fire.

"Come in." I call, tucking an errant strand of tawny hair behind my ear. There is more white in my hair every time I look. I could easily mask it with a charm, but I feel it adds character. And reminds me of my age.

"Professor?"

I blink, my body tensing. It is not Sirius after all. I cannot look. I know that I will find myself lost in a pair of vibrant green eyes. His scent has already reached me. Like watermelon. Why is he here? I suppose Sirius has talked to him. And now it is my turn. Sirius' words come back to haunt me.

"But if you're convinced you're too old, and it wouldn't be right...well, you'll let him down easy. And you'll do it in person, not through me..."

Yes. I will do it person, it is only fair. I would have liked James to have let me down like that, but I never gave him the chance. I couldn't do it, couldn't bring myself to. I avoid disappointment when I can, there has been so much of it in my life.

"Yes?" I manage to say. Calm. Polite. It is the only way I know how to be. I have never been one for the spotlight. That was James and Sirius. I was content to stand aside, eyes downcast and head bowed. Far easier that way. I learned early on not to draw attention to myself.

"Just thought I'd drop by." He says, coming into my line of vision, wide smile crossing his face. He is wearing a dark red T-shirt, and faded blue jeans. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and his eyes sparkle behind his glasses. His hair is tousled, but I have never seen it neat. James could never fix his hair, either.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I ask, cocking my head. I try not to breathe his scent too deeply. I try not to look too closely.

"That'd be nice, thanks." He sits down on the floor, between me and the fire, legs tucked up under him in one graceful movement. I stand, and busy myself making him a cup of tea. I boil the water, pouring it over the tea bag, focusing on the weak fumes that rise up as steam. I ignore the young man sitting on my floor, though I can feel his eyes on me. I feel suddenly exposed. I long for my robes. In my private chambers I have forgone them, wearing instead a simple brown sweater and jeans far more faded then Harry's.

"Here." I hand him the tea cup, and sit back down in my chair, curling my legs under my body and wrapping the blanket tightly about myself, as though shielding myself from view will ease my nerves.

"Thanks." Harry smiles up at my from over the rim of his cup, eyes meeting mine for a split second before dropping. I swallow, hard. Yes, he knows...and he is using it to his advantage. He sips his tea, and then sets the cup neatly on the floor alongside of him. "So...Sirius said he talked to you?" It was more of a question then a statement.

"Yes." I nod, folding my hands in my lap.

"So...." Harry looks at me expectantly, face open and sincere. I feel my resolve melting. I do not think I can deny him anything. I long to run my hands through his soft coal hair, to rub my cheek against his. I am certain his skin is as soft as peaches. "He told you, didn't he?" A sudden panicked hitch to his voice, and I nod, not able to suppress a small smile that curves my lips.

"Yes, Sirius was quite...generous, in his dispensing of information." I say, chuckling softly.

"Oh, okay. For a second I thought he hadn't." Harry grins again, relief evident in his expression. "Um...so...." He shifts, and I take a deep breath.

"Harry." I say, trying to find the words. But they escape me. I don't even know what I want to tell him. I was so certain I knew what was best for us both. But now I am not sure. It would be so easy...he is here, right before me, and I struggle to control my own thoughts and emotions.

"I am..." I try again, pausing as the rest of the sentence flees my mind. I have never been good with discussing my feelings and emotions. I was never encouraged to be open with my family, in fact it was rather the opposite. And I was the one, in our little group, who solved the problems. "I fear I'm not very good at expressing myself." I finally say, offering up a weak and apologetic smile.

"That's okay." Harry says. "Sirius said you needed time to think, and I understand. I just thought...well, maybe I ought to say something to. It was sort of...well, silly, to go through Sirius like that. But I didn't know how to approach you, without knowing."

"Of course." I nod. I understand this. How would I have gone about it, in his shoes? I wouldn't have. I never approached James, never even considered it. It was simply out of the question. I am not sure how to continue. Harry doesn't seem to be expecting anything, and yet I feel I must offer. "I...I have done some thinking." I manage.

"Oh?" Harry is still smiling, unassuming and pleasant. I find myself faltering in the face of that smile. What can I say? What can I tell him? Before he came in, I was so certain of my answer.

"Yes." I say, and I know I am simply stalling. But I find it hard to think. He runs a hand through his hair, and I have to restrain myself from mimicking the movement. I know I strain forward, before I catch myself. I am undone.

"Not sure, huh?" Harry asks, nodding a little. "I know how you feel. It took me a long time, to ask Sirius. I mean, I figured what chance did I have? I don't know what you're used to, when it comes to partners."

"I'm not used to all that much." I answer, honestly. "My kind tends to shy away from relationships of any sort." I have had a handful of lovers, only one which I ever went back to. And that is nothing you want to know about, Harry, I can assure you.

"Oh. Well, I guess I don't have to worry about living up to old ghosts, do I?"

His choice of phrasing startles me. Has Sirius mentioned anything about my old feelings for James? No, he wouldn't. He's not that much of an idiot. He's not, in fact, stupid at all, simply blunt. And he tries to do what he thinks is right, and often manages to make things worse.

"No...not really." I say, eyeing him speculatively. Could this work, with the ghost of James hanging over us both? Would I be comfortable, in that sort of relationship with James' son? I fear I don't know the answer. "I...I haven't really come to any sort of conclusion." I find myself admitting. Well, it's true. I had been so damn certain.

"That's okay. I mean, I've still got a bit before graduation."

"And...what are your options?" I ask. These are things I need to know. I must know, what I would be tying him to, should I decide to pursue this.

"Well, I've been offered a position with the Arrows. The Quidditch team. Not sure if I'll take it. Madame Hooch's ready to retire in a few years. I'd start out here, as her assistant. Then I'd take over. Either way, I'd be doing what I like best."

"Ah." I nod. Yes, both options are quite attractive to him. "What would you prefer to do?"

"Depends." He shrugs, as though it is no big thing. But it is a big thing. It is what he wants to do with his life. I don't want him choosing based on me.

"Harry..." I say, with a sigh, and he holds up a hand to stall me.

"Look, I know what you're going to say. And this isn't entirely based on what you decide. I'd be trying to make this decision anyway. I love Quidditch, and to play professionally would be amazing. But Hogwarts...Hogwarts is my home. I really don't know if I could leave it. It'd be nice, if we were, you know, but don't feel like you have to decide for me."

"Ah." I nod. That has eased my mind greatly. I am still indecisive. I wonder if now I should wait on Harry. Perhaps that would be easiest? But I know that is foolish as well. Me answer *will* help to sway his decision. I know that.

"That's really all I had to say." Harry stands up. "Thanks for the tea. You know where you can find me, if you want to talk."

"Yes. And you're most welcome for the tea." I stand as well. It is only polite, to see him to the door. I must restrain myself from reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder. I do not know how the gesture would be taken. I open the door, and Harry brushes by me. I inhale sharply, feeling the smooth curve of his hip against my side.

"Um..." Harry pauses. He stands in my doorway, head cocked sideways in an avian like manner. He is chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, and simply watching me. I am still attempting to recover from the way it felt when his body touched mine, even so briefly and chastely. Then he does something I cannot recover from. He leans in, quickly and almost fearfully, and presses his lips to mine in a fleeting kiss. It lasts only a second, but that is enough for me to imprint the feel of his lips on my memory forever. They are quite soft and warm, dry but not unpleasantly so. I freeze, unable to do anything. And then the lips are gone, and I feel oddly empty and alone.

"Just something to help you make up your mind." He says, blushing furiously. I cannot speak, but it does not matter, because Harry is gone in a flash.

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