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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 5775 -:- 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
Chapter 11 – For The Best

Following the full moon, Remus seemed to think that things were back to normal.

At least, that was the face he projected to Harry.

The implication that after everything Remus felt that he could go back to how things were without anyone batting an eyelash deeply unsettled Harry. Remus's touch no longer felt warm and welcoming, but confusing, and beyond that there was something else to Remus now—something different.

That wasn't to say that Remus was hurting him physically or emotionally, but ever since Harry had woken up, he couldn't help but notice that Remus had a certain aura to him now. Something that hadn't been there before.

It hadn't clicked with Harry at first, but as time went by it became quite obvious what was going on.

Remus woke Harry in the mornings.

Remus told Harry when to eat, and hand-fed him.

Remus told Harry when to sleep.

Harry felt deeply chilled when after three weeks and another approaching moon he'd worked out what the older man was doing. When Remus was occupied with one task or another, Harry called Ron and Hermione to his room (which he was still more or less confined to) and told them in hushed tones about his observations and worries. While Ron looked horrified, Hermione, in contrast, looked thoughtful.

“Harry, I don't think he's doing it to hurt you—I'm not even sure he realizes that he's doing it at all,” she
began, but Ron cut her off with an indignant sputter before she could continue.

“Hermione, that's like...textbook abusive spouse behaviour,” Ron said angrily, “how could you possibly think about defending him?”

“I'm not, Ronald,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I just mean I don't think he sees it as a level of control the way that we do.”

“What d'you mean?” Harry asked tentatively. “I mean, after everything, I'm starting to think he's not beyond anything...” he trailed off with a grimace, and both of his friends looked on sympathetically. He felt his face burn under their gazes, and he looked away as Hermione continued to speak.

“I mean that Remus has spent the last few months in a werewolf pack, embracing his lycanthropy and his Dominant tendencies for the first time...well, ever,” Hermione explained, “he is the only true werewolf here, and he likely sees Harry as pack, but below him in standing. It's likely not even a conscious though, more an instinctual thing, he might feel that this is the best way for him to help and protect Harry. He's assumed an alpha role.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel any better?” Harry asked miserably, “Hermione, he—he's starting to scare me. What if he—” Hermione cut him off before he could finish the question.

“He won't, Harry,” she said firmly, “I know that he won't. This isn't like before, when he was half-mad by the impending full moon. It's his way of protecting you. If it's worrying you so much, try talking to him about it, maybe?”

“Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well for me last time...” Harry grumbled.

Hermione smiled sadly, but didn't answer.

~*~

It continued.

The weeks began to bleed together, and the next full moon passed without a hitch, but the domineering behaviour didn't abate. Under Remus's watchful eye he regained his weight slowly, and despite his concerns over Remus's behaviour, Harry began to feel something like himself again. The seasons changed around him, and the green leaves of the trees began to turn to red and gold. In late September, Hermione and Ron moved back to their flat, content that Harry wasn't likely to drop dead if left alone, nor did it seem like Remus was going to take off again.

Ron was very reluctant to leave, especially in light of this new level of control Remus was using with Harry. Harry knew that he could fend Remus off if it came to that, and was not wholly unconcerned about being left alone with him. At the same time however, Harry could not deny that this new personality was far from reassuring. What had happened to the kind, docile man that he had fallen for in the first place? This drastic change in his personality ached in him almost as much as his initial abandonment had.

Harry was still far too skinny, but with his steady weight gain Remus had begun to dog his steps less and less. It was a relief, and ever so slowly the unnerving domineering attitude began to fade into the background. Much to Harry's relief, Remus began to seem more like himself again—that is, until Harry made the poor decision to suggest that it might be time for him to go back to work. In an instant, Remus's protective instincts shot to the forefront.

“No. Absolutely not,” Remus said firmly while he brought out his barely-used no arguments tone of voice.

“You're not my mother,” Harry countered, his brow furrowing in anger as he glared at his partner from across the dinner table. The comment earned him a hard look, but Harry didn't back down.

“No, but I am your partner,” he said, and Harry couldn't help but snort derisively. A flash of hurt crossed the older man's features, but he continued as though he hadn't noticed it. “You're still too weak to go back to work Harry, so don't even think about it.”

“You can't just keep me here like some...some kept boy. I hate sitting here like a lump,” Harry pushed away the remnants of his half-finished dinner, and leant back in his chair a little. “I'm not helpless, I need to get back out into the world.” Remus reached across the table and took Harry's hands, and he started slightly at the sudden contact. Harry refocused his gaze on the werewolf, but the domineering look he'd seen so often of late was gone, and in place was the familiar expression of the Remus he'd always known—his Remus. The concern Harry saw there, and the overbearing worry drained Harry's antagonism from him in an instant.

“You've never been helpless,” Remus said reassuringly, “but you aren't back to your full strength yet. Going back to work now would be a waste, you need to gain some more weight—”

“I've come back to Hogwarts skinnier than this, it's nothing new,” Harry replied as evenly as he could manage, but he could feel his anger beginning to flare again. He wrenched his hands out of Remus's and jumped up from his chair. “I'm not some fragile wilting flower, Remus,” Harry said as he began to pace, “I don't need your permission to go back to work, not after—”

Harry hadn't seen him move.

Large hands closed over his wrists and stopped his pacing. Remus caught Harry with his hard, amber gaze. Harry froze, alarmed by the look he saw displayed there. It was so close to dangerous that Harry felt his breath momentarily catch as his anger gave way to fear. Harry had no idea what to say, and he swallowed thickly as he stared back into his eyes defiantly. He knew full-well that Remus's wolf would protest this show of challenge. At the moment however, Harry was too angry with Remus to care.

The hands at his wrists tensed and Remus's lip curled back to show his teeth, a gesture so canine it looked strange on a human. It was even more unnerving to see on the face of a man who was usually so even-tempered. When Harry did not back down, something in Remus seemed to snap as he released Harry's wrists, took a single step back.

He kept his gaze focused on Harry, and Harry watched with mounting confusion as Remus shed all of his clothes with a flick of his wand, and tossed the implement aside before he shifted smoothly into his werewolf alter-ego much more quickly than Harry thought possible. It was such a smooth transformation in fact, that had Harry not known what Remus was, he may have mistook the change for an Animagus transformation.

It was obvious that Remus been practising during his time away, but at the moment Harry did not feel compelled to congratulate him on his accomplishment. Harry took a nervous step back, and Moony snarled.

Harry's eyes bulged with shock and fear. Moony stepped forward, and his fear tripled in an instant.

“M-Moony?” he asked tentatively, his voice escaping him as little more than a squeak. Moony crouched and his back legs tensed, and Harry hissed a curse as he scrambled to get out of the way, and he avoided the lunging attack by less than a hair.

Panic set in, overlaid with confusion as to why Moony was going after him like this, and Harry bolted from the dining room. He could hear Moony's claws skitter across the stone floor as he wheeled around him for a second attempt, but even with the short head-start Harry had gotten, his speed would never be able to match a werewolf's. A strangled cry escaped him as Moony's full weight collided with him, and Harry was knocked to the floor. His glasses flew off his face and shattered, and he gasped in pain as his temple knocked against the hard stone.

With a groan of pain Harry rolled over to face the snarling, angry werewolf. Moony pressed a huge paw into the centre of his chest to keep him from getting up, and Harry felt mildly sick with fright.

Why is Remus doing this? He wondered miserably, through his fog of panic, and he felt terribly betrayed by this turn of events. Heart was pounding out a wild rhythm in his chest, it took Harry a moment to work through his blinding terror and understand that Moony was waiting for. Moony growled again, and he realized that the werewolf was waiting for Harry to submit to him. Trembling a little from his shock and fright, Harry swallowed his pride and exposed his throat.

Hot breath and sharp teeth enclosed Harry's throat for barely a second, then just as suddenly Remus was laying atop him, sweat-soaked and panting harshly as he stood on trembling limbs and extended a hand to Harry. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take it, and Remus helped him up.

He silently guided Harry into to the sitting room and forced him onto the sofa while he stepped out of the room, presumably to put some clothes on. His face carried no sign that nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, and that, above anything else, was what unnerved Harry the most.

Normally, Remus would apologize for his overt, domineering werewolf tendencies, but this time he offered up no such thing. Harry was still rather shaken by the encounter with Moony, and he watched Remus's retreating back with wide, uncertain eyes. Was there any limit to his behaviour now, or was he just as bad as the stereotypical savage beasts that werewolves used to be painted as by the Ministry?

Remus returned in under five minutes, straightening his jumper as he went. He stepped back over to Harry, and crouched before him, handing back Harry's glasses silently. Once Harry had pulled them on, Remus took his hands and stared at him intently. This time, Harry did not meet his eye. After what had just happened he felt nervous and jumpy, and he immediately tried to yank his hands back, but Remus tightened his grip and didn't let him go.

“I do not think you are weak, or helpless,” Remus said, his intense stare paired with his forceful tone gave Harry pause, and he momentarily stopped trying to yank his hands away while he listened to the older man. “What I do think is that you don't let yourself properly heal before you force yourself to get back to your normal routine. I want you safe, Harry, and that means I want you to take the time to get your old strength back before you go back to chasing down dark wizards.”

“And how does attacking me as a werewolf factor into all of this?” Harry asked with a frown. His betrayed tone caused Remus's expression to harden, and his hands tensed over Harry's. The lack of apology in Remus's gaze deeply unsettled Harry, but he forced himself to keep still and quiet while he waited for the older man to explain himself.

“You wouldn't listen to me otherwise,” Remus said simply, and Harry recoiled a little at his words. His even, matter-of-fact tone was deeply unnerving. Harry was certain that this was a residual frame of mind left over from his time spent with Greyback—to solve problems with his teeth instead of his words.

Remus seemed to sense Harry's unease, and he reached up to brush his thumb over Harry's cheek. The gentle touch so soon after the attack was startling, and he flinched out of reflex. Remus's hand froze, and he slowly retracted the appendage, his lips pulling into a frown.

“I'm sorry if I frightened you Harry,” Remus murmured, “I am scared for you. I want you safe, and I want you well. You can't push yourself like this, I won't let you.”

The jumble of sentiments made Harry dizzy, and he glanced away from the pleading look in the older man's eyes. He tried to take his hands back again, and this time Remus relented, though Harry could feel the reluctance in Remus's every movement as he let Harry go.

“You've changed,” Harry said, and he turned back to Remus. He moved to sit next to Harry, but for the moment he did not reach out to him. Harry dropped his gaze to a loose thread on the edge of the cushion he sat upon, and picked at it miserably. Remus was silent for nearly a full minute before he finally answered Harry's statement.

“I have,” Remus agreed. Harry looked up, and Remus's gaze was harder than he'd remembered, less warm, somehow. What had happened to him? “Should I apologize for that?”

“No—yes—I don't know.” Harry raked his hands through his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. He took a moment to try and calm himself down before he tried again.

“Since you came back, you've been...different,” Harry said to his knees, and he found himself wholly unable to look up. A large hand appeared in his field of vision and closed over his own, but it felt like a stranger's hand, not his Remus.

At first, Harry could not place what exactly was different about the werewolf. It was in his every movement, every word, every expression. He'd begun to embrace his wolf side, and his domineering tendencies were coming out with greater frequency. It was unnerving to Harry how Remus seemed to unconsciously extend some sort of control over him, and even more unsettling was how much Harry wanted to let him.

Harry shook himself, but the sensation did not abate. I will not let anyone or anything control me. Not Remus, not this damnable bond, nothing. Harry thought viciously, and forced himself to focus on Remus's voice in an effort to ignore the strange urge he had to become completely pliant to the werewolf's wishes.

“I have learned a lot about myself in my time away,” Remus replied simply while his thumb began to stroke Harry's palm lightly. The tickling sensation made Harry's fingers twitch, but he did not protest the touch.

“The moment you got back you slipped into an alpha role,” Harry said as he lifted his eyes to look at Remus, and his voice shook a little as he continued. “You demand my absolute obedience, and the moment you don't get it you force it with your teeth and claws. What the hell happened to you, Remus?” Harry asked, and winced at the tremor in his voice.

“As I recall, you were the one who pushed me to accept Greyback's—” Remus began, but Harry was quick to cut him off with an angry hiss.

“Don't you fucking dare try to lay the blame for your new personality quirks on me, Remus John Lupin,” Harry growled while he glared at him. “I suggested you go. Once. You didn't want to, and I didn't push. Then I shared something with you, something, might I add, that I was fucking terrified of telling you, and you left me.” Harry's vision began to swim, and he took several shaking breaths in an effort to calm himself before he continued. “We have an unbreakable bond, and you left me to wither and die. I haven't tears for what you've done to me. I've been beaten down, tortured, attacked by everything under the sun, but no one, no one has ever made me feel like a victim like you have.”

Remus looked as though Harry had struck him. Perhaps it would have been simpler if he actually had.

Harry wished that he could hate him. He wished he could walk away from this. He wished that he could walk out of Remus's life and never see him again. But under it all, Harry still loved him, and that made him feel sick. He just wanted to have his love for this man taken away; it had brought him nothing but pain.

Remus did not say a word in response to Harry's outburst.

Without a word, Remus stood up and walked out of the room, the horrified look never leaving his eyes.

~*~

Harry had no idea if his words had sunk in. Instead of trying to fix things, Remus had taken to avoiding him again.

The days passed slowly and Remus steered clear of him, save for mealtimes, when he would quietly watch Harry eat. He spoke only when he felt that Harry hadn't eaten enough, and Harry would grudgingly stuff his mouth with food until Remus appeared satisfied. He hated being told to eat like he was a child, but among other things, he wasn't keen to give Remus an excuse to attack him like that again.

Rationally, Harry doubted that it would come to that again, but he didn't want to take any chances. Until this bond was broken or he and Remus fixed things(though Harry began to feel like the former was more likely between the two impossible options), the best Harry could do was try to keep things civil between them.

For the first time in well over a year, Harry began to wish that the bond was somehow breakable. How could he be expected to stay with a man who had left him high and dry, to nearly starve to death because he couldn't accept what the bond had done to him? Harry blamed Remus completely, and he could not even look at him without feeling that prickling, confused rage and betrayal just below the surface of his mind, threatening to burst out.

To add insult to injury, for the first time, Harry could feel the bond at work. He could feel it trying to urge him to forgive Remus and let him back in in the form of a near-constant compulsion he had to seek the werewolf out, hold onto him, and never let go. It gave Harry a window into what Remus had likely gone through when the bond was first created, because with each passing day resisting its pull was getting harder and harder.

Remus meanwhile, seemed lost.

It was as though the man had absolutely no idea how to extend his hand and help Harry. He wasn't certain if this was because he had changed too much in his time away, if he was now more wolf than man, and couldn't help Harry in the way that he needed.

One particularly stormy afternoon, Harry had hidden himself away from Remus and Kreacher in the library, his nose buried in thick volumes on nonhuman mating bonds. He'd been over these books a hundred times already and knew that they contained no answers, but he couldn't take the heartache and the uncertainty any longer. Every morning the same thought passed through his mind, will this be the day that I wake up and Remus will be gone? Harry knew that Remus's empty promises that he wasn't going to leave were just that—empty. Hollow. No matter what Remus promised, Harry knew that he would not stay with him. The guilt over what he had done to Harry was too great, and Harry was certain the moment Remus had deemed him back to his normal self, he would leave again.

The realization that Remus's earlier promises had been little more than pretty lies left Harry feeling, if possible, even more miserable. Remus wouldn't touch him any more, not unless he absolutely had to, and even then the look on his face was enough to make Harry sick. The reluctance, the near-disgust, Harry couldn't understand it, and he felt even more alone now than he had when Remus had first abandoned him. Was Remus disgusted at him? By him? He had no idea what to make of it.

“Harry?”

The sudden voice drew Harry from his depressing musings, and he looked up to see Remus standing uncertainly in the doorway of the library. There was a full cup of cold tea next to Harry that he did not remember making, and he wondered vaguely if it was Kreacher or Remus who had gotten it for him.

“Speaking to me again, are you?” He sneered, and Remus ducked his head shamefully. Harry heaved a sigh and snapped the book shut. As with his first attempt at researching the bond with Ginny, his searches turned up nothing. “What do you want, Remus?”

“I wanted to see you,” Remus began, and Harry couldn't help it—he laughed.

“That certainly makes a change,” Harry said in the same angry tone as he stood up. Remus stepped farther into the library and his gaze darkened a little at Harry's tone, but for the moment he said nothing. Harry found himself caring very little if he was upsetting Remus with his words. It wasn't like they weren't true.

“Damn it, Harry,” Remus growled as he swept forward to bar Harry from leaving by pinning him against the side of the desk. His palms braced against the wood on either side of Harry's hips, caging him in, but not completely restricting him. It was hardly the same as the incident, but it did have an unpleasant ring of familiarity to it. “I'm just trying to do what's right—make things easier.”

“Easier for who, Remus?” Harry growled softly while his eyes narrowed a little. He refused to show Remus how much the one action of pinning him there was beginning to make his anxiety mount. “For you? Because it's so much easier to just leave than deal with these things?” Harry raised his eyebrows when a stricken look crossed the older man's face, and one more Harry laughed bitterly. “What, you thought that I wouldn't figure it out? Fool me once, as they say.”

Harry shifted, and slid up to sit on the desk, seeing as Remus seemed to have no intention of letting him go anywhere. The move meant that Harry was at eye-level with the werewolf, and he stared him down in challenge. He knew that it was stupid, and reckless, like poking a dragon with a stick, but he refused to bend for the man who had put him through so much.

But he's also done so much for you, another part of Harry's mind murmured, and he clenched his eyes shut. No, no, no. That doesn't make up for what he's put me through, he thought fiercely, and refocused his gaze on the older man. The very air around them seemed to have thickened from their tense conversation, and Harry felt his breath catch as Remus stared back, his eyes narrowed and carrying with them a clear warning.

Harry was first to break eye-contact, and his head dropped a little as he glanced down at his knees.

“I have no idea what you want from me, Remus,” Harry murmured as he looked back up, “haven't I given enough? Can't you let me go? Let us go? Is there any way you could just—”

Harry's words were abruptly cut off by a familiar, hot mouth covering his own.

The kiss was rough, demanding, and it had a dangerous edge to it that Harry had never felt before—not even during the incident. It thrilled and terrified Harry in equal measure. Harry's hands immediately lifted, one fisting Remus's hair, the other gripping his shoulder just to hold him there for a moment longer. Harry did not even know why he was kissing Remus. He was still beyond furious with him for what he had done to him, he still felt beyond betrayed at Remus's behaviour towards him, but no matter what he did, Harry still wanted him—Harry still loved him.

“What if I don't want to let you go?” Remus murmured, his tone of voice husky and soft against Harry's mouth. He kissed Harry again before he asked, “what if I want to fix things?”

“You don't have a choice, in the end,” Harry replied in a similar tone of voice, “there's nothing left to fix, Remus. You had your chance, that's gone now. Hell, if it wasn't for this bond I would...” he trailed off and shook his head. It hurt too much to say.

Remus stared at him for a long moment, his eyes telling the story of how deeply Harry's words had cut. Harry didn't care, not anymore. As far as Harry was concerned, it was his turn to suffer.

Remus pushed himself off the desk, hard enough that the piece of furniture wobbled slightly, and he stalked out of the library without so much as a backward glance.

~*~

A fortnight after his standoff with Remus in the library, Harry was very close to being back to a healthy weight. This fact was not Harry's main focus however; with the impending full moon, he was finding his focus drawn from his domestic dispute and to how strange he was feeling. He could not completely explain how he knew that his various symptoms were caused by the moon—he just knew. From the way his skin seemed to itch after sunset, to the pull he felt to leave the house and simply wander around outside under the moon's glow...it was becoming clearer and clearer that his partial turning was increasing, or getting worse, he wasn't certain.

Harry did not dare mention this to Remus, and went to bed five nights before the full moon alone, as he had so many nights of late. He slept on Remus's side in hopes of absorbing some of the good memories that they had once shared, but the faint, lingering scent of the older man did little beyond make Harry more depressed. He clutched at the pillow beneath his head and inhaled deeply, and the warm familiarity of Remus's scent lulled him into a fitful sleep.

In the veiled hours of the early morning, somewhere between night and dawn, Harry was certain that he felt the ghost of Remus's lips upon him—a feather-light kiss against his temple. So quick and gentle that Harry was sure he'd imagined it, or dreamt it. Harry's fingers curled around the edge of the duvet, and his cheek twitched when a droplet of saline water dripped onto it, tricked downwards, and painted his bottom lip.

When Harry woke that morning, it was to an empty house.

He was not surprised by this development, nor the bitterly short note left on his nightstand.

It's for the best
A/N: I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I'M SORRY PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I AM GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS I PROMISE. I'm not just angsting for the sake of angsting.
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck