Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18455 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: This chapter contains a sexual assault scene towards the end of the chapter. It doesn't involve rape, but it will likely be triggering for some people. You have been warned. It's also one of the longest chapters in this fic, so enjoy :)

Chapter 11 – Calm Before The Storm

As the days passed, Harry and Remus fell into a comfortable routine. They'd wake and breakfast together, Harry would go to work, and in the evening Remus would make dinner (much to Kreacher's consternation). They'd then retire to the sitting room to unwind over twin cups of tea, and slowly it would evolve into Remus pulling Harry in for a hungry kiss—until Harry panicked and Remus was forced to stop.

Harry was both ashamed and frustrated at his inability to go any further with the older man intimately beyond snogging like a pair of horny teenagers. As a man, wasn't he supposed to want sex? Harry knew it wasn't because he wasn't attracted to Remus—he was—but he seemed to have some sort of mental block that was holding him back. While Remus was still patient with Harry whenever his fear got the better of him, as time passed and the next full moon began to approach, Harry couldn't help but notice how it seemed to be come progressively more difficult for Remus to make himself stop. That fact only added to Harry's anxiety, and it made it difficult to participate in any intimate act with the man, the niggling fear at the back of his mind that he might push Remus too far almost constantly present.

Friday morning, a week after Harry had started back to work, he was eyeing Remus from across the table, buried in the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry had been trying to ask him something all week, and each time an opportunity presented itself, Harry immediately lost his nerve, and put off the request again. This morning, he was determined to get it out. He took a slow breath to steady himself, he decided to fall back on his old standby—blurt it out.

“Remus, d'you think Ron and Hermione could come by for dinner this weekend?” Remus peeked out at him from behind the paper and eyed him curiously, though thankfully he did not look upset by the request.

“I mean,” he continued, “they haven't been by in ages and I was wondering if you think the bond is settled enough for you to see them without getting all...possessive?” Silence followed his request, and Harry watched the corners of Remus's eyes crinkle with a small, amused smile. He folded the paper and set it aside, then stood and leant over the table. He pressed a hand to the back of Harry's neck, and gently urged him forward to capture his lips in a light kiss. Chuckling at Harry minor flush, he pulled back and sat down.

“I think it's safe to say that it will be fine,” Remus smiled with clear amusement, while Harry suddenly felt a little hot, certain that the werewolf knew exactly what the small show of affection had done to him. It was horribly confusing for Harry, given his reluctance to go further with him at this particular juncture.

“Tell me when to expect them and I'll make something,” Remus's calm, conversational tone distracted Harry from his inner turmoil, and he watched as the older man unfolded the paper again and flicked it open.

“Sunday evening at six,” Harry said at once, while Remus peered over the paper at Harry, a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth as he eyed him quizzically. He felt his flush worsen under Remus's critical gaze as he explained, “Hermione suggested it on Tuesday, but I've been putting off asking you.” Remus snorted, shaking his head a little as he refocused his attention on the paper he still held.

“What did you think would happen, Harry? That I'd say no?” Harry grimaced, and prodded at his bowl of porridge, swirling the thick spoonfuls of treacle through it.

“Well I don't know what to expect with this bond, y'know? I mean, last time Hermione was here you weren't exactly that...conversational. I was more worried about you ripping their heads off, to be honest.” A choked laugh sounded from behind the paper, and Remus reached for his teacup.

“That was because the bond hadn't settled, and I was half crazed from it. The bond has more or less calmed at this point, and I don't believe that your friends have anything to worry about.” Harry grinned, though Remus couldn't see it, and he felt some of the tension leave the air.

“Great.”

~*~

Harry spent the morning in the field for the first time since he'd gone back to work. There was no break in the Red Moon case, and as a result he was dealing with human/part-human altercations, though nothing deadly—for a change. It was a relief to be able to do something active and outdoors, but he returned to the office that afternoon in a less-than-pleasant mood, made worse when he stepped into the office and at once Auror Caldwell choked.

“Merlin's Beard, Potter!” She lifted a handkerchief to cover her nose and mouth, “what on earth have you been doing? You smell like—”

“—like I got swallowed by a sperm whale, I know. Bloody fishermen caught another water nymph out by Cornwall, and of course you know their elemental magic goes bonkers when they panic. Never in my life have I seen so many fish innards...” Harry shuddered, his brow knitted in frustration as he went to sit down.

“Ah, no. Get out of here and shower. I'd rather my office not smell like a harbour, thank you. Go on.” When Harry didn't immediately move, she flicked her wand and something that felt like a pair of invisible hands shoved him towards the door.

“All right, all right, I'm going!” Harry stomped back into the hall, ignoring the way more then a few of his colleagues clapped a hand over their nose and mouth as he passed. And Hermione says I have no tact, he thought peevishly, and stepped into the Auror changing rooms to clean up.

Harry stepped back out fifteen minutes later, fresh out of the shower and his robes charmed clean. He stopped short of his office however when he saw Hermione waiting outside his office.

“Hermione?” He called, and she looked up when she heard his voice, her mouth splitting into a familiar, friendly smile.

“Fish free?” Hermione laughed a little as he blinked with confusion, “Auror Caldwell told me. I was thinking I might join you for lunch. I've been doing some research I thought you might be interested in.” She cocked her head to the side in an obvious hint, and he grinned a little.

“Sounds great.”

They went to a muggle burger bar a fair ways from the Leaky Cauldron after they caught sight of a certain blonde reporter hanging around the pub. Over platefuls of greasy hamburgers and chips, (while ignoring the odd looks the muggles gave their robes) Hermione extracted a sheaf of parchment from her bag and began to riffle through it. “I looked into the bond as best I could, and I spoke to a few of my contacts at the Magical Creatures office—some werewolves on the board.” She spoke in low, hushed tones to avoid being overheard, and Harry had to lean in a little to hear her properly.

“The problem is,” she continued, pausing to pop a chip dredged in vinegar into her mouth, “the Ministry has been extremely prejudiced against werewolves for years. It makes Elf Rights look like a walk in the park by comparison. Did you know it's only been in the last ten years that werewolves have been allowed to marry a witch or wizard? And before that any werewolf caught having sexual relations with a one could be sent to Azkaban. It's awful.”

Hermione's expression seemed stuck between outrage at the injustice of it, and a deep sadness that Harry shared for what Remus must have had to go through with such horrifically unfair laws hanging over his head. Harry could see the telltale spark in her eyes, her righteous indignation at the injustice of it. Harry couldn't help but smile a little, and resisted the temptation to ask her if she was planning another button campaign.

“Anyway,” she continued, “even though the laws are way better these days, a lot of the publications tend to ignore werewolf culture and traditions, and instead mostly deal with how to identify them or kill them.” She frowned, while Harry blinked with confusion.

“Hang on, where did you get all that information before then?” Harry's thoughts went back to her novel of notes she'd given him a few weeks ago.

“There is some, but not a lot. More than half of the information I gave you was from the werewolves I spoke to, since Remus was in no fit state to tell us much of anything,” Harry frowned, but said nothing. Even if Remus had been coherent enough to give them details about werewolf culture, he doubted that he would have had much to say on the topic. In Remus's toxic self-loathing, it seemed to Harry that he knew precious little about his kind, beyond what he absolutely need to know.

“Anyway,” Hermione took a sip off her soft drink and sorted through the stack of parchment, while she continued to speak. “From what I gathered the bond does compel you, but it's really subtle compared to how it affects werewolf in the bond.”

“Compels me how?” Harry busied himself with his lukewarm chips, piercing one with a fork and staring at it for a long minute before cramming it into his mouth. He hated the idea of being coerced magically into anything, but with this it seemed somehow worse, because it was such a personal thing he was being pushed into.

“It's nothing bad, exactly, it's sort of...sort of like being drunk,” Hermione grimaced a little at the crude comparison. “It inhibits your reservations, but it doesn't make you do anything you wouldn't normally do, it just sort of...encourages you, I guess?” She shrugged, but her gentle tone did little to ease the stress knotted in his stomach at the thought. Hermione seemed to sense his worry, and added quickly, “I mean, Harry, has anything happened that has made you feel like you're being forced? Has Remus tried to push you anything?”

“No, he's been great, actually. I mean, we're getting closer,” Harry struggled to hide a smile when she flushed a delightful shade of magenta at the comment. “But there's some—er—stuff that I'm not ready for, and when I say stop, he stops.” Hermione beamed at his admission, and he took his turn to feel embarrassed, busying himself with his soft drink to mask the redness of his face. Thoughts of Remus's recent impatience with him briefly came to mind, but something told him it might be a bad idea to confide in Hermione with that particular fact.

“See? It's not all bad, then.”

“But, Hermione...relationships...I mean, they're supposed to take time aren't they? I've been involved with the man for nearly two months and already I feel...” Harry trailed off and shook his head, prodding sullenly at the food on his plate. “It just feels rushed, you know?”

“Harry,” Hermione reached across and grabbed his hands, stilling his distressed figeting. “Your relationship with Remus is part magical, part emotional. There's no right or wrong way to be with someone, love someone, however you want to phrase it. I've heard of couples who have eloped the day they met and lived happily ever after, and others who were with one another for years before they even contemplated moving in together, much less getting married! I think you're overthinking things, and you should just do what comes naturally.”

I wish I knew that that was, Harry thought, while he forced a small smile and nodded.

~*~

That evening, Harry tumbled out of the fireplace and was surprised when he wasn't immediately accosted by Remus. He had grown rather used to the man being there the second he got home, and the heated welcome that always followed. It was therefore strange when he didn't see him, or hear any noise at all. Trying to reign in his worry, Harry trudged upstairs to get changed, only to yelp in surprise when a pair of arms encircled his waist from behind the moment he stepped into their bedroom.

Remus buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, and the combination of his lips pressing against his skin and the faint tickle of his stubble made him shiver minutely. “Damn it Remus,” Harry hissed, “you scared me.” Remus chuckled softly, and tightened his hold on Harry's waist.

“Not a bad scare, though?” Harry trembled a little, his breath hitching as the warm wet of the man's tongue traced a path from the hollow of his throat up to his jaw. Harry tilted his head to the side to give him better access, a soft quiver of a moan escaping his parted lips.

“I've had worse,” Harry murmured hoarsely, turning his head as Remus's mouth ghosted along the edge of his jaw, and their lips met. Remus was still holding him from behind, pressing his front into Harry's back. The position was therefore not ideal, but Harry was too taken to care much, even when the muscles in his neck began to protest. When he began to feel his arousal pool in the pit of his stomach, as well as the telltale hardness pressing into his lower back, he broke the kiss with a soft gasp.

Remus seemed to understand that the vocalization was one of nervous fear and not desire, and relaxed his hold enough for Harry to turn in his arms. Harry reached up and wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, staring up into Remus's honey-gold eyes with a tangled mess of conflicting emotions surging through him. He opened his mouth to apologize for the knee-jerk reaction, but Remus cut him off, his anger coming off him in waves, making Harry's nervousness mount.

“Damn it Harry,” Remus hissed, his voice escaping him as a low growl, “I'm not going to hurt you, what are you so afraid of?” The werewolf's hold on him tightened, but something about the possessive edge to the embrace paired with his anger made Harry's stomach roil with fear. It didn't feel right, and Harry swallowed thickly, uncertain of what he should do. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and make things worse, and Remus's body against his felt taut with agitation.

After a long pause, Harry opened his mouth to try apologizing again, but his words were cut off by a gentle, undemanding kiss that did not entirely match the emotions he felt radiating off the werewolf. Harry returned it eagerly, while doing his best to keep from riling the man up further. “I'll let you get ready for dinner,” he whispered against Harry's mouth, but there was a distinctive cold edge to his words. He untangled himself from Harry and left, closing the door behind him a little harder than was necessary.

Instead of changing his clothes, Harry sat down heavily on the end of the bed and cradled his head in his hands with a defeated sigh. What the hell had just happened?

~*~

Friday night and the subsequent Saturday morning were cold.

Harry had grown so used to falling asleep curled into Remus's warm embrace, and he missed it so much it was like a constant, overwhelming ache. The werewolf had been so sexually frustrated he barely shared more than two words with him over dinner, and had pointedly taken the guest room the night before.

Harry knew that the bond had settled enough that Remus didn't need to be with him constantly, but for the first time Harry rather wished it wasn't. Remus's side of the bed was painfully cold, and it seemed to perfectly match the sorrowful pang in the pit of Harry's stomach at his absence. It took him a great deal of effort to stay put and not try and crawl into the guest bed with the older man. Instead, he had reached for Remus's pillow and buried his face in it, inhaling the smell of him with a small, mournful sigh.

When Harry woke the following morning, he found himself spooned around the pillow, his arms clutching it tightly. It still smelt faintly of everything he associated with Remus—of parchment and ink, a heady, sandalwood scent, and the indefinable smell that was just Remus. Harry felt as though he hadn't slept at all, and his limbs were heavy with fatigue. He looked down at the pillow he held, feeling both stupid and miserable in equal measure, and felt uncertain about how Remus would be at breakfast. Was he still cross? He had told Harry that he'd wait for him to feel ready, but then why had he reacted so badly to Harry's reluctance the previous evening?

A soft tapping jarred Harry from his thoughts. He tossed the pillow back to Remus's side, he called out a feeble, “c'min.” He did not bother rolling over to face the door.

The door creaked open, and Harry heard Remus hesitate at the threshold, then slowly approach him. Harry rolled over reluctantly, unable to pull his face into anything resembling a neutral mask. He sat up slowly, and was certain that he looked as miserable as he felt. Remus looked as though he was trying for his usual calm, but it seemed to crumple upon seeing Harry, and his mouth curved into a frown.

“Harry—” he began, but the sound of Remus speaking his name ignited his anger like sparking flint. How dare Remus try and make him feel guilty about not being ready to go forward with their intimate relationship! He'd never been one to roll over and pine like this, so why was he now? He took a deep breath, and narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“Don't you Harry me, Remus John Lupin,” he snapped. Remus stopped short of where Harry sat in the bed, and his entire form seemed to deflate at his scathing tone. “You spent all that time being patient with me, never pushing, none of it. And then out of nowhere you pitch a fit because I won't—” Harry cut himself off with a growl of frustration. “I'm trying Remus, and I—I enjoy our time together, I do. It's just...this is all new to me, I need time, and I thought you understood that. What changed? Why did you...act like that?” Harry's tone softened a little, and he turned his wounded gaze away from him.

“It's the moon,” Remus replied with a soft sigh. Harry chanced a glance up, and he saw the man watching him uncertainly, shifting from one foot to the other, as though uncertain what to do with himself. “It will be full in six days, and around this time I get...edgy. It's harder to adjust my emotions when I've inadvertently pushed you too far.” Remus gave Harry another significant look, and he inclined his head slightly. The silent assent was not missed, and Remus cleared the distance in one stride and sat on the edge of the bed.

Harry climbed into his lap and buried his face in the crook of Remus's neck, his body shivering as he clung to him. Too overwhelmed by how much he'd missed his presence, Harry did not feel even marginally embarrassed by his actions. Remus carded his fingers through Harry's sleep-tousled hair, and Harry relaxed under the touch. “I'm sorry, Harry. I never wanted to subject you to that, but it gets difficult at times.”

“It's okay, Remus,” Harry lifted his head a little and kissed him lightly, but did not loosen his tight hold on the older man. Harry felt as though he'd been scrubbed raw, despite the fact that their tiff was so small that it barely counted as a lover's quarrel.

“Just...next time maybe give me a heads up when you're getting all PMS-y, okay?” Remus choked a laugh and eyed Harry with amused confusion.

“PMS?” He asked, cocking a brow, and Harry cracked a grin.

“Pre-Moon Syndrome.”

Their Saturday went smoothly following their less than pleasant morning, and in an effort to put their squabble behind them Harry dragged Remus out to Muggle London for dinner.

“I must say, it makes a nice change, not having to cook.” Harry laughed, nudging Remus's shin under the table with the tip of his boot.

“You don't have to cook, you tit. I think Kreacher would probably be happier if you didn't, as a matter of fact.” Remus chuckled as he pierced a spear of white asparagus with his fork. Harry moved to take back his foot, but Remus's opposing one hooked over his ankle, stilling his movements. Harry felt a flush creep up his neck, and though the long white tablecloth hid their movements, the curious glances people kept shooting their way was slightly unnerving. Remus smiled a little, as though pleased with the reaction, while Harry busied himself with his own meal.

“Yes, well, either way it makes a nice change.” Harry's flush slowly receded, despite the fact that their feet and ankles were still awkwardly tangled together.

The restaurant Harry had chosen, Les Trois Chefs, was in the heart of Muggle London and it was clearly geared towards couples. Small round tables covered with floor-length white tablecloths were each adorned with a single lit candle. The dark panelled wood paired with the dim lighting of the place made it feel intimate, though Harry felt that the low buzz of conversation coming from the nearby tables effectively ruined the mood. Even so, the amiable feeling between them was leaving Harry with a strange, almost giddy sensation, despite their awkward start to the evening.

After placing their orders (Remus had translated the French menu patiently for Harry), they unwittingly clued their server in to the fact that they were not father and son, as she had likely assumed given their obvious age gap. Talking quietly while they waited for their food, they didn't notice her approach with amuse-geules for them when they had shared a quick kiss.

Remus appeared amused by the young woman's near-comical shock as she almost dropped the small platters in her hands, while Harry flushed with embarrassment. The reaction of being caught by her, rather than being seen with Remus. Harry had had worse reactions from random members of magical community thanks to Rita Skeeter, and a few disapproving muggles didn't faze him in the slightest.

The reaction of their server aside, it was a lovely evening. The food itself was fantastic, with Harry eating some sort of white-fleshed fish in beurre blanc, and Remus a venison tartare. Harry wrinkled his nose a little when it arrived for Remus, but made no comment. He knew the need for rarer meat at this time in the month was another werewolf thing, but there was something incredibly odd about watching his partner tuck into a plate of raw meat, even if it was supposed to be fancy French food.

“I saw that,” Remus said, and Harry's gaze snapped up to meet his eyes. He pushed forward the innocent face he had always used to get out of trouble while at school as he looked across at the man.

“Saw what?” Remus snorted, obviously not fooled.

“You know what.” Harry offered an apologetic smile while Remus chuckled, returning to his meal. “It's a delicacy. As they say, don't knock it 'til you've tried it.”

“Sorry, a lot of this stuff is pretty new to me. Like, I don't really know what this...buh bank is,” he motioned to the half-eaten portion on his plate, while Remus pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly trying to keep from laughing at Harry's abysmal pronunciation. “But, I like it,” He finished with a small grin.

“And here I thought all those Fizzing Whizzbees over the years irrevocably damaged those taste buds of yours.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Remus grinned at Harry's mock annoyance, “I'll have you know I like a lot of things, I just wasn't exposed to culture as a tot, unlike some.”

The evening progressed nicely, the couple sharing a slice of chocolate dacquoise at the end of their meal when full to bursting, they decided to call it a night.

“There's just one thing I don't understand,” Harry said conversationally as they strode along the Thames, hand in hand.

“And what might that be?” Remus seemed to be in a significantly better mood than he had the night before, and his calm had rubbed off on Harry, his stress washing away as he enjoyed the peaceful evening with his partner.

“You know so much about food and stuff, so then why is your favourite haggis?” He wrinkled his nose again as Remus chuckled, turning his gaze from Harry briefly as they slipped down a deserted alley to Disapparate unseen. Remus slipped his hand from Harry's and looped them loosely around the young man's waist. Briefly, Harry recalled the last time he'd been held like this and he had a moment of panic, but the atmosphere was so vastly different from then that the negative emotion didn't have time to take root before he dismissed it and relaxed in the embrace.

“It's comfort food for me, I suppose,” Remus said after a thoughtful pause. “My parents took me to Glasgow for Burns Night every year, up until I started school. I always enjoyed it, and my taste for haggis stuck around long after we stopped the tradition.” Remus spoke with a wistful air, and Harry offered up a small smile. He couldn't recall ever finding comfort in food like that, but it clearly meant a lot to Remus, and he didn't want to spoil it for him. He turned his gaze back to Harry, and lifted one arm to lightly cradle his chin and leant in for a light, tender kiss. The moment their lips touched Remus Disapparated, dragging Harry with him.

Harry groaned and let go of Remus, staggering into the iron-wrought gate and gripping it as he shook off the crushing aftereffects of the trip.

“Warn me the next time you do that,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead into the cool metal. He heard laughter from behind him, followed quickly by a pair of arms encircling his middle. Harry tensed for a moment, his mind once more recalling Remus's anger from the night before with the simple action. The older man pressed a light kiss to the nape of Harry's neck, then released him to take one of his hands.

“Sorry,” he said, though the laughter in his voice made him sound as though he wasn't sorry at all.

Harry's mouth quirked into a small half-smile as he straightened up to see that they weren't far from Grimmauld Place. The dingy street was washed in muted, yellow light from the flickering streetlamps, and most of the houses shared the same derelict, woebegone exterior that Number Twelve did. Even so, the area had begun to carry a warmth of home to him, especially with Remus at his side.

With a gentle tug on his hand, Harry followed Remus in a leisurely stroll up the sidewalk. Neither of them spoke, content to walk in comfortable silence as they stepped past a park, and row upon row of townhouses as they approached Number Twelve.

Tiny droplets of rain dotted the pavement as they slipped inside, and a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. “I've been meaning to tell you,” Harry said, shrugging out of his jacket and moving to hang it up, waiting for Remus to do the same before he continued.

“Tell me what?” He tugged Harry towards the sitting room, and they both fell rather unceremoniously onto the sofa. Harry felt a wave of relief fill him as they settled down, Harry curled into Remus's side, with his arm wrapped securely around Harry's waist. He was so glad their spat from the morning had been resolved; he loved these calm post-dinner evenings, and how at peace he always felt sitting with Remus like this.

“Hermione's been helping me do research on this bond,” Harry paused, and when he did not feel the other man react to his words, he pressed on. “And she's starting to get that look.”

“And what look might that be?” Remus's hand, out of habit rather than anything else trailed up his spine to the nape of Harry's neck and toyed with the messy curls he found there.

“That spew look.”

“Ah,” Remus chuckled, while Harry leaned in and pressed his cheek into the older man's shoulder. “I'm assuming I will get an earful about the indignities of how my own race has been treated over the last two centuries?”

“I hope not, but at least it won't come as a shock if she gets started.” Harry grimaced a little, tangling his fingers in the side of Remus's tatty brown cardigan as he shifted closer to his companion. While he adored Hermione, she had the tact of a block of wood when it came to her causes.

“Well, thank you for the warning, Harry,” he replied with a small chuckle.

The pair went up to bed that night full to the brim with overly rich food, and the mood could not have been more different than the previous night. Harry burrowed himself into Remus's embrace with a contented sigh, and amidst the low rolls of thunder and pitter-patter of the rain, he felt into an easy sleep.

~*~

Harry woke the next morning to an empty bed. He was too content from last night to feel concerned about Remus's absence, and he laughed a little in his sleepy state when he heard the distinctive clatter of Remus puttering about the kitchen. Smiling to himself, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown, then slowly padded down to the main level.

“Isn't it a little early for pie?” Harry leaned against the frame of the kitchen door, smiling as he watched Remus beat some sort of chocolate concoction by hand with an ordinary whisk, a crumb crust pressed into a pie plate next to him. He looked up from what he was doing but he did not stop his whisking, smiling at Harry in that way that always made him feel warm all over.

“It needs to set, so I wanted to get an early start,” he replied, turning back to his creation, and picking up his wand to transfer the filling into the waiting crust, before he cast a Chilling Charm over it and set it aside. Remus set down his wand and stepped over to Harry, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, one which Harry gladly returned. Remus broke the kiss with a gentle nip of his teeth to Harry's lower lip, sending a little shiver through him as his breath caught. Remus's skin felt hot to the touch, and Harry knew it was in part due to the coming moon. Fleetingly, he wondered if inviting his friends over so close to it was such a good idea. Remus seemed to sense Harry's nervousness, and he brushed his callused thumb along Harry's cheekbone. “What's wrong?” His voice came out as a low whisper, one arm still coiled around Harry's waist, holding him close.

“Just thinking about...things.” Harry lowered his gaze, enjoying the tingling sensation that seemed to run through him at this closeness with Remus; but he was afraid of indulging in it too much, and creating another tense moment between them.

“You're worried about tonight,” it wasn't a question. Remus spoke while his thumb trailed from Harry's cheek to trace the line of his jaw. He nodded and lifted his gaze again, some of his stress leaving him at the sight of Remus smiling. He cradled Harry's jaw in his hand, and leaned in to ghost a kiss across his lips. “We're learning as we go. I cannot guarantee that I will be...my old self with them tonight, but I feel that the bond is settled enough for you to have your friends over without incident. I'm afraid I know very little of what will happen as we go forward with this bond. All we can do is hope for the best, and be prepared for the worst.”

Harry wrapped his arms loosely around Remus's waist, and pressed his cheek against the man's chest with a small sigh, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I wish I could be as level-headed about this as you,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as Remus's hand moved to run through his hair affectionately.

“Level-headedness has never been one of your strong suits, as I recall,” Remus chuckled, and Harry lifted his gaze to give the man a mock glare.

The day passed slowly for Harry, though he suspected that was due to the fact that he was a tangled mess of nerves regarding the coming evening. His self doubt took centre stage, and bits of his first encounters with Remus following the accidental bond flashed before his eyes, and he felt his stomach contract with worry. Remus, in contrast, seemed to be incapable of sitting still for more than five minutes at a time, and spent most of the day in the kitchen.

“You know, it's just Ron and Hermione,” Harry had commented as he sat on the surface of the kitchen table to watch Remus work. “You don't need to go to all this trouble just for them.” Harry plucked a roll off the plate next to him and ripped off a chunk with his teeth. “They'd be just as happy with a dozen bacon sandwiches or whatever,” he said thickly around the bread in his mouth. Remus cast him a look of amusement over his shoulder, and went back to what he was doing.

“They're your friends, Harry,” Remus paused to summon a rather large chef's knife to him, then resumed speaking, “they're practically your siblings, I know how close the three of you are. I'm happy to do it.”

“As long as you want to, I'll shut up about it,” Harry frowned a little, and swallowed his overlarge mouthful. “I just don't want you to make a big fuss or anything, it isn't necessary.” At his words, Remus paused what he was doing, pivoted on his heel and stepped over to Harry. With him sitting on the table as he was they were at eye level, and Harry was startled by the intense gaze staring back at him. Remus reached out and cradled the back of Harry's neck, and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

“You are worth it, Harry.”

Harry felt his face go very red.

~*~

Harry hated how nervous he felt.

With an attempt at normal casual, he had thrown on his favourite pair of 'nice' jeans—the same black jeans he'd worn for their first date, as well as a violently orange Chudley Cannons T-shirt that was on the side of almost too tight. He headed down to the main level to find Remus hanging back and allowing Kreacher to set the table, though the elf still looked distinctly bad-tempered, shooting Remus dark looks every few seconds.

Remus looked up when Harry approached, and gave him a quick once-over, and his eyes glimmered with quiet laughter. Harry blinked with confusion at the look he was being given, and looked down at himself. When he saw nothing off with his clothing, he looked back up to Remus, his brow knitted with confusion. “Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?”

“Wrong isn't exactly the word I'd use, no,” he strode across the room, his movement slow and languid, and Harry had the distinct impression of a wolf stalking his prey. Remus slipped his arms around Harry's waist and tugged him a little closer, and he laughed a little as he stumbled deliberately into the older man's embrace. Remus captured Harry's mouth with his own, a low, animalistic growl escaping his throat as he coaxed Harry's mouth open, and their tongues tangling together at once.

Harry groaned, his arms locking around Remus's neck, one hand reaching up to tangle into the older man's hair. “You look downright edible,” Remus murmured against his lips, and without pause he took Harry's mouth again.

Harry felt dizzy, his mind a whirlwind of desire, and he found himself rather suddenly wanting to let the man bend him over the dining room table, his own reservations up to that point be damned. Harry gripped onto Remus more tightly, utterly confused and aroused in equal measure, while he allowed the werewolf to plunder his mouth quite thoroughly.

Any inkling either of them had to move things forward was cut short when Ron and Hermione tumbled out of their hearth. Harry's brain did not immediately register that his friends had arrived, and Hermione's small squeak of surprise brought him back to himself, and the pair jumped apart.

Hermione's cheeks were rather pink, while Ron seemed incapable of looking at him, though Harry recognized it as embarrassment, rather than any sort of misplaced anger or jealousy. Harry was certain it had to look weird to an outsider who had not seen them together before. “Er, hi guys.”

Remus went for his trademark placid smile, but the attempt was hindered somewhat by the clear embarrassment on his face. “Ron, Hermione,” he nodded to each of them in turn, “you look well.”

“Prof—Remus,” Hermione flushed as she corrected herself, “you look, er, better.” Remus chuckled, while Hermione went a little pink again. Remus wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, his hand gripping his hip a little more tightly than was probably necessary. Harry could feel the tense anxiety of the man next to him, and knew that the embrace was not meant to be as casual as it first appeared, but a silent show of dominance and claim. While Harry had caught the undertones of the gesture, of Remus essentially telling his friends, Harry is mine. Hermione and Ron's lack of response told Harry that it had probably gone over their heads.

“Thank you, Hermione, I feel better” he smiled again, and Harry thought he looked much more like himself in that moment. It warmed his heart to see, and Harry felt himself relax a little. The implication behind his words caused Harry to flush a little, which became worsen when Ron cocked a suggestive brow at him. Remus tugged lightly on Harry, and motioned towards towards the dining room, “come along, I hope you two are hungry.” At the mention of food, Ron's face lit up, though Hermione looked strangely troubled. Harry tried to ignore the look on her face as he allowed himself to be led away.

Over a sumptuous dinner of stuffed duck wrapped in pastry, Harry fell into easy conversation with Ron, while he listened to Hermione engage Remus in discussion concerning werewolf rights. He kept a careful ear on the conversation, just in case Hermione got ahead of herself.

“I mean, I knew it was bad, but I honestly had no idea how awful it was. It's such a relief that Kingsley's making some real efforts towards werewolf equal rights...”

“...Regardless if Kingsley removes all the anti-werewolf legislation now or in six months, it will be a long time before my kind feel inclined to trust wizardkind to not persecute us. There is a reason so many choose pack life away from wizarding society, so much damage has been done...”

Harry exchanged a knowing look with the older man, and he inclined his head minutely in understanding. Reaching under the table, he squeezed Remus's hand, and the small gesture seemed to calm him, and he managed to maintain a civil tongue while the pair debated.

Given that the full moon was so close, Harry realized that while the evening was far from perfect, it could have been a lot worse. Over chocolate cream pie piled high with golden meringue, talk turned to Ron and Hermione's recent major life decision: Moving in together.

“We didn't want to say anything until it was all finalized,” Ron said with a grin, looking rather pleased with himself. “It's nothing fancy, just a little flat in Hogsmeade on the high street.”

“Oh Harry we have to have you two over soon, it's just perfect!” In her excitement, she reached across the table and grabbed Harry's hand. In an instant, every muscle in Remus's body seemed to tense, and Harry quickly extricated himself from her and laid one of his hands over his. Remus shifted his gaze to Harry, his eyes taking on a feral edge that made him a little nervous, and he squeezed the older man's hand tightly. He deliberately kept his focus on Remus, not saying a word, and he did not shift his gaze from the older man until he calmed.

Slowly, Harry looked back to Hermione, smiling faintly as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “It sounds great you guys, I can't wait to see it.”

Following Hermione's mistake, the wolf in Remus seemed determined to stake his claim, and had maintained some sort of physical contact with Harry at all times throughout the remainder of the evening. While Harry had grown used to such casual touches, he could imagine it was rather strange for his friends to see their ex-professor touching him like that. Hermione kept casting him worried looks, while Ron was avoiding his eye. Harry wasn't sure what it meant, and he was almost afraid to ask.

The quartet moved to the sitting room following dinner and out of habit Harry sat down next to Remus on the sofa, and the older man rested his hand against the back of Harry's neck, tickling the sparse curls he found there. Remus seemed determined to maintain some sense of normalcy to the evening, despite his wolf instincts clearly pushing him towards something else entirely.

Remus prompted Ron and Hermione in turn for details of their personal and professional lives. His friends' responses were strangely tense, and they kept exchanging strange, significant looks that left Harry feeling distinctly unsettled, though he struggled to pinpoint exactly why. Harry was content to stay quiet and listen, all his stress regarding the dinner had left him utterly exhausted, and the heavy food Remus had prepared had left him feeling delightfully full and sleepy.

“Well, I think we best get going,” Hermione said as last, a little more brightly than was probably necessary. Something about it left Harry feeling on edge, though he swallowed his nervousness as best he could. She stood and the others followed suit, while Harry and Remus wore similar calm smiles, Ron and Hermione in contrast looked unnervingly tense.

“It was a pleasure having you two,” Remus smiled at Hermione in particular who appeared a little uncertain, “you're welcome any time, though perhaps check before you tumble in next time.” Harry turned his head away and forced his laugh out as a cough as his two best friends went bright red.

“Seriously though,” Harry said when he'd recovered, “stop by whenever.” He grinned, the expression falling a little when neither of them returned it.

Harry and Remus escorted the pair to the Floo, and they watched the couple disappear in a flash of green flame. Harry huffed a sigh, and leaned back against Remus, who still had an arm around him. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.”

“I believe your predictions for the evening were about as accurate as Sybill Trelawney's would have been,” Remus mused, while Harry snickered. “Quite an achievement. I must say, I'm impressed.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Harry's mouth was still twisted into an amused smile, while the pair moved back to the couch. Harry rested his cheek against Remus's shoulder, while the man returned to playing with his hair. “Hermione kept getting these weird looks after dessert. I dunno what she was thinking, but it was kind of odd.”

“Hmm,” the noncommittal grunt did little to ease Harry's worries, and he closed his eyes, the hand in his hair making him drowsy.

“I just hope she doesn't jump to some mad conclusion,” Harry stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, and untangled himself from his partner reluctantly. “Sorry,” he smiled “I'm gonna head to bed, I think.” Harry bowed to kiss Remus one last time. “Thanks for dinner, it was amazing,” he whispered his gratitude against Remus's mouth, then reluctantly stepped back and headed upstairs.

In the comfortable dark, Harry burrowed his face into the cool pillows with a contented sigh. Despite the weirdness he had sensed from Hermione, he felt as though the evening had gone remarkably well, considering. Not long after he'd settled in Harry felt the bed dip as Remus joined him, his warm chest pressing into Harry's back while he curled an arm around his middle to hold him close.

In his sleepy haze, Harry felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, and shifted a little to ease back into the embrace Remus offered.

~*~

The work week slid by slowly, and Harry felt much calmer with the approaching full moon than he had felt preceding the last one. He punctuated the work on the Red Moon case with spending his lunches with his friends, and his evenings with Remus. Hermione had said nothing of their evening the previous weekend, but over the coming days she continued to look strained, as though there was something she wanted to say, but for some reason or another—couldn't. Harry had a funny feeling he knew what it was about, but he had little desire to get into it with her, and as such didn't prompt her.

Hermione's restraint utterly shattered Thursday afternoon, when he had accompanied her to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. “Harry,” Hermione began, while Harry struggled to keep his expression neutral. She had taken on her lecturing tone, and he knew losing his temper wouldn't help matters.

“What is it, Hermione?” Despite Harry's best efforts, there was still a defensive edge to his tone. He took a great bite of his sandwich in an effort to conceal his nervousness.

“I just wanted to ask about the other night,” she began timidly, and looked up at him as though she expected him to bite her head off. When he said nothing, she continued. “It's just, I know I read all those things about the bond between you and Remus, but I thought you said the bond was settled.”

“It is settled. At least, as it can be for the moment. I wouldn't have invited you two over if I thought Remus would be a threat to you or Ron.” Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as his words seemed to increase Hermione's worry, instead of calm it.

“I know Harry, but what about you?” Her worried tone bordered on fear, and Harry could feel his confusion grow more pronounced.

“What d'you mean?”

“I mean, Remus getting all handsy with you after I grabbed your hand. Do you think that's normal?” Harry frowned at her, as it was most unlike her to be so closed-minded.

“Remus isn't human, Hermione. You have to remember that,” he paused, but was rather proud that he managed to keep his voice steady. “The full moon is tomorrow night, and the days leading up to it always make him edgy and more wolf than man in some ways. You took Defence Against the Dark Arts, you know that.” Hermione looked away from him guiltily, her chin quivering a little as though she was just barely managing to hold back a flood of tears.

“I know Harry, I'm just worried about you. I mean, what if Remus hurts you, even accidentally?” She looked back to him and caught his gaze, her own was glassy, and her bottom lip quivered dangerously. Before Harry had even started to formulate an answer, Hermione stood up and launched herself at him in a bone-crushing hug that could rival Hagrid's in strength.

Harry choked his surprise, and felt the telltale wetness of her tears against his shoulder. She pulled back after a moment, her eyes still rather damp. “Just promise me you'll be careful, all right?” Harry cracked a small, lopsided grin.

“I always am. I like the quiet life, you know me.”

~*~

That evening, Harry stumbled out of the hearth to an empty sitting room. He didn't understand exactly why, but the sight of the deserted space left him with an deep feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

“Remus?” The call went unanswered. Harry struggled to dismiss the sense of foreboding that settled in the pit of his stomach, and he stepped into the hall and up the stairs, chewing the inside of his cheek out of nervous habit as he went.

On the top landing, Harry made a beeline for their bedroom, and his eyes found Remus at once, but the beginnings of smile at seeing him died instantly. The werewolf was standing at the end of the bed, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed with barely-controlled fury.

Startled, Harry took a nervous step back, but with a slight flick of Remus's wand, the door slammed shut behind him. His panic intensified, and she opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when the older man's eyes flicked towards Harry's night table. He followed Remus's gaze, and in an instant Harry felt all the colour drain from his face.

Sitting innocently upon the dark wood was a small, velvet box that Harry recognized at once.

“Remus,” Harry began, whipping his gaze back to his partner, his voice shaking a little with fear, as the man still looked murderous. “You don't understand, it's not—”

“—not what I think?” Remus's voice was little more than a low growl, the rage that laced his words so chillingly un-Remus that it made Harry feel sick with fear. He circled the end of the bed, and advanced on Harry, his slow, predatory movements making it clear that his human mind was definitely not in control.

“What am I supposed to think,” he growled, anger, jealousy, and hurt bleeding into his tone in equal measure, “when I find an engagement ring, clearly designed for a woman, and you come home reeking of Hermione Granger?” Harry backed up, and he felt his back press into the hard wood of the door. His breath caught, and he stared at Remus with wide eyes.

“It's not what you think,” the repeated words came out in a rush, his heart beating out a furious rhythm in his chest. “I had that ring for ages, I just couldn't bring myself to bin it—” he stopped short when Remus reached him, slamming his hands into the door on either side of Harry's head, making him jump, the action effectively caging him in. The eyes that stared down at him were the same honey gold they always were, though deeply bloodshot, ringed with red, and almost glowing in his rage.

“You're mine,” he growled, one hand reaching forward to twist in his hair, Harry's breath hitching with pain as Remus punctuated his words with a sharp yank. Harry just barely managed to bite back a whimper of fright.

“They cannot have you,” Harry yelped in shock as he was suddenly dragged from the door by his hair and thrown bodily onto the bed, and within seconds Remus was on him again, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.

Harry reached up and grappled at his robes in an effort to push him off, but even with his added muscle from his Auror training he could not match a werewolf in brute strength. Remus released a canine growl and he grabbed Harry by the wrists, pinning them roughly above his head. Harry squirmed and struggled, but it was as though his wrists had been locked in an iron manacle. The sudden motion made the muscles in his upper arms flare in painful protest, and a cry escaped him as he struggled against the hold.

“Remus please,” Harry's voice cracked in his desperation, “you won't be able to forgive yourself if you do this—” another short scream of pain escaped him, Remus moving his mouth to bite down on Harry's throat, not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to bruise.

“Mine,” he growled again, suckling on the expanse of flesh he held with his teeth, ensuring that it would bruise, muttering the word over and over against Harry's skin as he held him down firmly.

“Remus, please—” Harry cringed as his voice came out as little more than a terrified sob, and nowhere near as forceful as he wanted to sound. The werewolf ignored him, continuing in his rough marking of his human, utterly lost to his instincts.

“Stop, stop!” Harry wailed as he tugged at his wrists, but Remus held fast to them, completely ignorant to Harry's distress.

Remus used his free hand to tear through the front of Harry's robes as though they were made of tissue paper, and he trailed more painful love bites over his clavicle and down his chest. Harry cried out again as Remus shifted slightly, and in his haze of panic, Harry saw an opening. His leg muscles tensed, and he brought up his knee into Remus's groin, hard.

Remus howled in pain, his hands releasing Harry at once to cup himself as his legs buckled and he fell to the floor.

Harry did not waste his moment of freedom. He bolted out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door.

Not looking back, he fled.

A/N: The restaurant in this chapter, Les Trois Chefs (The Three Chefs) is made up, just so I could go bananas with my food nerd knowhow.

Glossary:
Amuse-gueule: A small appetizer served before a meal, usually courtesy of the chef. It's often served with aperitifs. (sometimes known as an Amuse-bouche)
Beurre blanc: French sauce made of reduced white wine vinegar, dry shallots, and butter. Sometimes known as white butter sauce in English.
Dacquoise: Like cake, but made of meringue.
Tartare: Seasoned raw red meat, can be venison, horse, beef, etc.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon