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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18438 -:- 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
- 11
- 12
- 13
A/N: I didn't have as much time as usual to edit this chapter, as my poor cat has been sick this week :( nothing life threatening and she's fine now, but it means I've been in and out of the vet's office and I've had my hands full with taking care of her. That said, I hope this chapter meets your expectations, despite the shortness compared to some of the other chapters posted so far. Thank you guys for continuing to support this story, you're all wonderful! <3

Chapter 12 – Separate

Harry was rather proud that he managed to keep himself from puking or splinching as he Apparated to Hogsmeade. His pride at this accomplishment lasted for barely thirty seconds before he bolted for roadside and lost the contents of his stomach into a snow-capped shrubbery.

He groaned, his mind a haze of painful flashbacks as he trembled violently with cold, sick, and shock. How could Remus have done that? Every promise the man had ever made to him, shattered in an instant. The top of his head still ached where Remus had pulled at his hair, and his throat burned as he choked up bile, hot tears streaking his cheeks. Harry wasn't certain whether the tears were a knee-jerk reaction to the pain from his harsh vomiting, or from what had happened. His throat throbbed where he'd received Remus's painful 'love' bites; the mere memory of them made Harry tremble with misery.

When he finally lifted his head from the shrub, Harry tried valiantly to ignore the hissing whispers and stares that followed his every movement. With cold sweat dotting his forehead, he looked up and down the street, and let out a soft sigh of relief when he found the address of the building he was looking for. Still shaking slightly, he hurried across the road and slipped inside with a quick tap of his wand. Harry hurried to the top level, panting as heavily as though he'd run the whole distance instead of Apparating.

Harry knocked on the pine door and it opened immediately, Ron's smile fading at once as he took in what he was seeing. “Merlin's pants Harry, what the hell happened to you?” He stepped aside to let Harry in, his eyes wide. The sound of the door snapping shut behind him made Harry jump sharply, and he looked up to Ron, momentarily having no idea how to begin, and instead stood there, staring blankly at the redhead while he clutched at his chest and struggled to get a handle on his breathing.

“Remus,” Harry said at last, grimacing at how raspy his voice was. Ron shifted as though he wanted to grip Harry's shoulder consolingly. He flinched, casting Ron an apologetic look, “I—sorry, I'm still a little freaked out.” Ron's outstretched hand curled into a fist, and he let it fall to his side, where it swung stiffly. His eyes were narrowed slightly in anger, but he still managed to exude a mask of calm, for which Harry was grateful. He was still in a state of shock over what had happened, and any more strong emotions right now would be more than he could handle.

“C'mon, I'll get you a cup of tea and you can tell me what happened,” Ron motioned inside and Harry followed him in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame. He took the moment to have a look around the tiny flat, significantly smaller than Grimmauld Place, but still quaint and cozy. A pair of mismatched armchairs and a moth-eaten sofa faced a fireplace with a wizarding wireless on the mantle, with Pigwidgeon twittering madly in his cage, hanging from a hook near the window. An open-concept dining room and kitchen with a breakfast bar took up the right side of the space, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a carved wooden rack of spices on the wall. Several bookcases took up one entire sitting room wall, filled beyond capacity with Hermione's growing library.

A familiar bandy-legged cat trotted up to him and wove through his legs as Harry followed Ron, Crookshanks's sudden movement nearly making him fall. Thankfully, he managed to keep his feet as he led Harry into the tiny kitchen. He was unsettled by how quiet Ron was being, and he was fairly certain he would be subject to a Hermione-inspired lecture when the time came. For the first time in recent history, Harry wasn't thrilled by how much she influenced him.

Harry pulled himself into a seat along the breakfast bar while Ron placed a kettle on the cooker, tapped it and at once and steam burst from the spout. After spiking Harry's tea with a generous measure of firewhisky,, he pushed the drink into his hands. “Talk.”

Harry had no idea how to start. He looked from the cup back to Ron, certain he looked absolutely awful after what had happened. This was the last conversation he ever expected to have with Ron of all people, and he was at a loss for what to say. Ron didn't say a word, and merely watched him expectantly, waiting for Harry to speak.

“Remus, er, found something,” Harry said at last, unable to meet Ron's eyes. “Where's Hermione?” He asked, really not keen to discuss the incident. He frowned at Harry.

“She's still at work, she won't be home for another hour. You're deflecting, Harry. Spit it out. What happened?” Ron had taken on his Auror voice, the one Harry had heard him use countless times in interrogations. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to get out of not explaining himself, Harry took a steadying breath, and looked up to meet Ron's worried gaze.

“Remus found the ring I had meant to give to Ginny,” Harry looked away when he saw Ron's eyes widen in surprise. “I sent back all of her things to The Burrow when this whole thing with Remus started, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of that stupid ring.” Harry frowned, and took a large gulp of tea. “After a while, I sort of...well, forgot about it,” Harry shrugged, looking around the kitchen while he reached down to pet Crookshanks with the tips of his fingers.

“I guess he went looking for something,” Harry continued, still unable to meet Ron's gaze and instead refocused his gaze on his knees. “He's not one to snoop, and...he found it.” Harry heaved a sigh, and stared into his mug.

“He went ballistic, and it didn't help that I went out for lunch with Hermione, and he could smell her on me. He got all possessive, way worse than I've ever seen him and he went after me...” Harry trailed off, his face heating in embarrassment and shame while a tremor ran through him. He couldn't say it. How could Remus do such a thing? Harry felt his heart lurch at the betrayal, and shivered as he felt the telltale burning behind his eyes. Taking another shuddering breath he pressed forward, “I just sort of...kicked him in the jewels and took off.”

Harry looked up at last, feeling an ache in his heart he couldn't completely identify. In spite of what had happened, he still felt a terrible longing to turn tail and run back to Remus. Harry shook himself in an effort to dispel the urge. After what Remus had done, there was no sane reason to return to him.

“Went after you like...he tried to rape you?” Ron's ears went very pink and Harry shifted his gaze back to his knees and took several deep breaths in an effort to calm down. The word rape seemed to echo inside his head, and the mere sound of it made him feel sick to his stomach. Had Remus really tried to rape him? It had been just a rough werewolf thing, surely? Harry had no idea what to think.

“I dunno if he'd go that far, but...” Harry huffed a sigh of frustration, and raked a hand through his hair. “It's the fucking moon. It makes him extra crazy, and he just happened to find the damn thing the day before. If I wasn't such a sentimental git and I just got rid of it this never would've happened.” Another wave of misery crashed over him, and Harry struggled to keep it behind a neutral mask. He wanted Ron and Hermione's support, yes, but he didn't want them to worry needlessly if he fell apart.

“Listen to me Harry,” Ron's voice was so forceful that Harry glanced up in surprise. “This is not your fault. Remus is the one who did this, not you. Don't you dare blame yourself. I don't give a rat's fart if it's the full moon, or the blue moon, or the bloody harvest moon. He had no right to do that to you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Harry,” Ron gave him a hard look, and Harry frowned, looking away from him to the bandy-legged cat that was sitting at his feet. He knew it would be difficult to explain to them how it wasn't completely Remus's fault. While Harry was terrified of seeing the werewolf again, at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to curl up with Remus and pretend this whole mess had never happened. The contradictory emotions made his head spin, and he drank more of his tea, hoping it would help calm him. One thing Harry knew for certain was that he couldn't face Remus, not yet. He looked up and caught Ron's worried eyes with his own.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Harry asked weakly, pushing aside his desire to run home as best he could. He winced at the feeble tone, but Ron seemed to understand that he was too emotionally shattered to even attempt a brave front at the moment.

“Yeah, course,” Ron smiled a little, “have you thought about what you're gonna tell Hermione when she gets here? It'll be a bloody miracle if she doesn't go straight to Grimmauld Place and murder Remus over this, you know. Mind you, he'd deserve it.” Harry frowned a little at Ron's comment, but eased back on the chair as he thought it over.

“Hell if I know,” He said at last, staring down into the half-empty mug. “She's already had a talk with me about how she felt about Remus's actions on Sunday, and I don't want her to overreact about this.” Ron's lack of response to Harry's reference to Sunday was unnerving, and instead his friend pushed forward with the more immediate problem at hand.

“And how would you define overreact?” Harry kept his gaze down, trying valiantly to ignore the way he saw Ron's brow knit with concern in his peripheral vision. Though he loved and trusted his friends implicitly, at the same time he knew that they couldn't completely understand the bond he shared with Remus. Fleetingly, he wondered if trying to explain the bond was worth it, or if they would just dismiss it and just blame Remus completely for what happened. It was more complicated than that, and Harry could see that Ron was stuck in a black and white state of mind from what he had told him.

“Anything that involves her confronting Remus, I suppose,” Harry drained the last of his tea, and Ron poured a healthy measure of straight firewhisky into the empty mug, and he nodded his thanks. “He'll be better after the full moon, and then we'll be able to discuss this whole thing more civilly.” To his surprise, this explanation did little to placate Ron, and instead his frown deepened.

“Harry, d'you know what you sound like?” Harry blinked in confusion at the question, and when he didn't immediately answer, Ron pressed on. “You sound like one of those people who have been abused by their spouses: It's not their fault, they didn't mean it, it was an accident...Remus knew exactly what he was doing, Harry. How d'you know it won't happen again?”

Harry frowned, and he could feel his gut twist with a mixture of guilt and panic. He avoided Ron's eye, his words and reaction so vastly matured compared to their time at school, even after all this time it was still surprising to hear. “The bond isn't fully settled yet. Once it is, stuff like this won't happen.” Harry chanced a glance up, but Ron appeared unconvinced. His expression softened slightly, and he stood with a frustrated sigh.

“C'mon, let's get you cleaned up before Hermione gets home.” Harry felt uneasy by how doubtful Ron sounded, but nodded gratefully and stood to follow him.

An hour and a half later, Harry's torn robes had been mended, though no matter what Ron did, the angry red and purple marks on Harry's chest and throat refused to fade. Ron tried a number of spells his mother had taught him, as well as essence of Dittany and most of the healing potions in their bathroom cabinet, but nothing seemed to work.

“Damn, I'm sorry mate,” Ron grumbled, flopping down onto the closed toilet seat with a huff and glared at Harry's throat, “I dunno why, but they won't go away.”

Privately, Harry wondered if it had to do with magic of the bond, refusing to let the wounds heal by extraordinary measures, but he had a feeling voicing the suspicion might be a bad move. Ron hadn't been exactly pleased with Remus since Harry had confided in him what happened, and he felt that Ron would be more than happy to blame the magic of the bond keeping the wounds from being healed on Remus as well.

“It's okay,” Harry muttered, turning from Ron to look in the bathroom mirror, and he prodded the marks with a wince. “They'll heal on their own in a couple of days, anyway.” Suddenly, a commotion out in the main area of the flat made Harry jump, the noise closely followed by Crookshanks's excited miaows.

“Ron, you home?” Hermione called, and Harry exchanged a nervous look with Ron. He nodded encouragingly, and with a defeated sigh he stood and trudged into the front hall, and Hermione's eyes lit up when she saw him. “Harry! It's so good to see you! What're you—” Her gaze fell to the marks on his throat, and her face fell, her eyes widening with panic. “Oh, God. Harry, what happened?”

Over more tea and with Ron's uncalled-for digs at Remus, Harry told Hermione what happened. She reacted exactly how Harry expected, so predictably in fact, that had the situation been less serious, it would have been almost funny.

“Harry,” she said, her voice laced with concern, “I really don't like this. I mean, I read all that stuff about this claim and everything but I never—” she cut herself off with an angry hiss. “Harry, we need to figure out a way to break this bond, this can't go on, it's not healthy.” At the prospect of the bond being broken, Harry felt panic lance through him.

“No, Hermione, it's not...” Harry trailed off and looked out the window overlooking the high street. He felt that agonizing pull again, and he curled his hands into fists. He couldn't bring himself to admit how much he both missed and feared Remus so deeply in that moment—he knew both of his friends wouldn't understand, and Harry had a feeling trying to explain it would make things worse, not better.

“He didn't mean it,” Harry said at last, slightly unnerved by how soft his voice sounded, “I mean, not really. He just...lost control.” He grimaced at the lameness of the excuse, and tried to ignore the panic that continued to rush through him at the idea of breaking the bond. He couldn't let Hermione try doing that; he wouldn't. In spite of everything, Harry still desperately missed Remus, and hated that this whole thing had happened. No matter what his friends said, he knew that it wasn't completely Remus's fault.

“Lost control?” Her voice had gone very high in her anger, and Harry winced at her tone. “Harry if you hadn't stopped him, he could have—”

“—no, Hermione, he wouldn't have. I know he wouldn't have.” In truth, Harry wasn't sure if Remus truly would have been able to stop himself, but he wasn't about to give her free ammunition.

“But how do you know?” Hermione's voice was still very high. “Harry, this isn't healthy, and I don't like it. You need to find a way to break this off.” She lurched forward as though to embrace him, but his involuntary cringe stopped her short. So soon after the incident, Harry still wasn't ready for physical contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said, slightly embarrassed by how hoarse he sounded, “I just...I know him, Hermione. He wouldn't. I know he wouldn't”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look; neither of his friends looked like they believed him. The silence stretched on between them; each at a loss for what to say. Harry cast a worried look out the window, where large, fluffy snowflakes had begun to float past the window.

“Well, I'll get started on dinner,” Ron said a little too brightly in an effort to break the awkward silence, but when neither Hermione nor Harry responded, he hastened to the kitchen without another word.

In spite of everything, Harry was relieved that Ron was the one doing the cooking. He and Ron had learned early on that Hermione was absolute rubbish at exactly two things: Divination and cooking. After being nearly poisoned more than once by her 'experiments', Ron had taken it upon himself to learn a thing or two from his mother, and as it turned out he wasn't completely awful at it.

Over plates of pasta, Hermione had tried multiple times to engage Harry in conversation, for the moment steering clear of the hippogriff elephant in the room. Harry gave her short answers, though he did his best to keep his tone even. He was exhausted, and definitely not in the mood to talk.

After dinner Hermione showed him to the guest room. “It's not completely set up yet,” she said apologetically, the tiny, drab room held a bed and dresser and not much else. “But Ron'll lend you a pair of pyjamas or something and I think I've got a spare toothbrush somewhere—” Harry smiled a little, letting her ramble, knowing that she probably felt as distressed about this whole situation as he did.

“It's fine, Hermione,” he said at last, offering her a small smile. “I really appreciate it,” she offered him a watery smile and lurched as though she was going to hug him, but seemed to think better of it at the last minute.

It took Harry a very long time to fall asleep that night. Stripped down to his Y-fronts, he tossed and turned while he tried valiantly to ignore the nauseating sounds of his two best friends going at it rather enthusiastically from the other room, the use of a silencing charm apparently forgotten. Coupled with the near-constant ache for Remus that had settled in the pit of his stomach, it made for a miserable night. Harry groaned, slammed a pillow over his ears, and clamped his eyes shut.

~*~

Harry spent the following day in Ron and Hermione's flat with just Crookshanks for company, and that evening he watched the full moon rise, overwhelmed with guilt. He stared up at the natural satellite, and the pull to return to Remus was stronger than ever. He hadn't even tried to contact Harry, and it had become a struggle to ignore his ever-growing desire to run back to him.

Harry pressed his cheek against the cold glass, and heaved a morose sigh. I hope Remus is okay... the thought passed through his mind for what felt like the fifteenth time that day, and while on some level he knew that his desire to forgive and forget so quickly was not healthy, his longing to see Remus was stronger than his common sense at the moment. As a result, he found that he cared little for how screwed up his mental state was; he just wanted Remus back.

“Harry?” Harry looked up and saw Hermione hovering in the entryway of the sitting room, watching him nervously. “Er, Ron made dinner, would you like to join us?”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry stood and followed her out to their little kitchen table. He wasn't very hungry, but he knew that sitting around and moping would only make his friends worry more. Harry forced back his worries and tried to act like himself, but he wasn't very successful in banishing the werewolf from his mind.

Harry stayed in Ron and Hermione's guest room until Sunday morning, two days after the full moon. In that time, both his friends had struggled to convince Harry to help them try and figure out a way to break the bond, but he wasn't having it. No matter what happened, he found that he still cared deeply for Remus—more than he ever thought he would.

After a quick breakfast, Harry stood and stretched, and braced himself for an argument. “Well, I better get going,” Harry had tried for casual, but he could not completely banish the quiver from his voice.

“Go where?” Hermione narrowed her eyes a little, and Harry swallowed thickly, regarding her nervously.

“Home. I don't fancy wearing the same robes three days in a row.” His mouth twitched into a crooked smile, which faded almost at once when Hermione scowled at him.

“You know full well you can charm your robes clean, so that's no excuse. You shouldn't be going anywhere near...” Ron nudged her none-too-subtly, and she whirled around, making the redhead jump a little. “You can't possibly approve of Harry going back to him! It's dangerous, and I don't like how this bond is affecting either of them!”

“Hermione it's not our place to make decisions like that for Harry, he's an adult—”

“We can if he's being too thick to recognize that he's pulling one of his stupid self-sacrificing stunts again just to spare Remus! He doesn't deserve it, not after what he did!” Ron opened his mouth to argue, and Harry took the distraction her argument with Ron provided to sneak out their door and head down to the high street.

Outside, the crisp air was incredibly refreshing after such a long period indoors, and as Harry made a move to step down the street he froze. Standing not twenty feet from Ron and Hermione's front door was Remus.

The sight of him both excited and terrified Harry in equal measure. His mind was awash with memories of what the older man had done, but even so, his first instinct was still to run to him. Remus himself looked awful. His head was bowed slightly and he looked miserable, guilty, ashamed. His face was lined with fresh claw marks that were slowly healing, and he could see more such injuries peeking out from under the collar of his robes.

Harry had barely taken a handful of steps forward before he heard Hermione's indignant shriek cut through the morning air. “Harry James Potter you come back here this instant!”

He whirled around and saw Hermione, red-faced and furious, closely followed by a stony-faced Ron. Her eyes found Remus at once, and she stormed over to him. “Hermione, don't!” Harry made a move to intercept her, but Ron grabbed him quickly, pinning his arms behind his back. Remus's gaze shifted to Ron, and his lip curled in a soundless growl.

“Ron, let me go!” He tugged at the hold, but Ron ignored the request.

“Sorry mate,” Ron said without emotion, though Harry was certain there was an apologetic edge to the tone. “This is for your own good.”

Somehow, Harry doubted that, as things in the past that were done 'for his own good' usually wound up with him being miserable or getting people killed. He tugged feebly at the hold Ron had on him, and a soft whine escaped him before he could stop it. Remus's eyes flitted to Harry at once when he'd made the sound, his eyes wide with his own anguish, so focused on Harry that he almost didn't notice Hermione storming towards him.

“Please Ron,” Harry's voice shifted from demanding to pleading, his stomach knotting as he watched Hermione all but run at Remus in her fury “don't let her hurt him.” Harry tugged at the hold again, and winced when Ron tightened his hold and didn't answer his plea.

Harry watched miserably as Hermione stopped just short of Remus, her entire body trembling with rage. He could hear her speaking, but he couldn't catch the words from the distance between them. Harry jerked again at the hold, but Ron squeezed his arms again, and he hissed in pain. Remus's gaze flicked up to Ron and his eyes narrowed, but at that same moment Harry saw Hermione's hand dive into the pocket of her robes.

“Remus! Look out!” Too late—Hermione withdrew some sort of small object and threw it at the werewolf. It wasn't her wand, and from Harry's vantage point he thought it looked like some sort of braided leather charm. It hit Remus squarely in the chest, and he had only a moment to stare at Harry in shock and horror before it glowed blue, and he disappeared with a sharp crack.

Ron released Harry and he fell forward, the cobblestones of the street biting sharply into his knees and the heels of his palms. He jumped to his feet and stormed over to Hermione. “What the hell did you do that for?!” He shoved her sharply, seeing red and uncaring that more than a few early morning shoppers had slowed down to listen in on them. Hermione staggered back a little from the strength of Harry's shove, but the angry glare never left her face.

“I did it for you, Harry,” she snapped, “this bond is not healthy, and I won't let you go running back to your rapist because of some twisted sense of loyalty you have for him!”

“He did not rape me, Hermione!” Harry seethed, taking a threatening step forward, but Hermione held her ground. “It was a werewolf thing. You've done more research on this than anyone else, you know that. He wasn't completely in control, but you just find it easier to blame Remus than actually consider that there are other factors than just—” Harry's raving was cut short when Hermione whipped out her wand, pointed it at him, and murmured a spell.

“Stupefy.”

~*~

The first thing Harry was aware of was a deep throb in his temple. He opened his eyes and sat up with a soft groan, realizing at once that he was back in Ron and Hermione's guest room. He plucked his glasses off the nightstand where they'd been left, and the room came into focus. Beyond the door he could hear the soft thrum of his so-called friends' voices.

He glared at the door, infuriated with them—Hermione in particular. After everything she'd done to help him with this bond, how could she possibly turn on him now? It made no sense. The spell she'd performed on Remus chilled him to the bone, and Harry hoped that he was okay.

After sitting in the centre of the bed for a long time feeling at a loss for what to do, he stood slowly and headed for the door. After checking it for charms that would alert the pair to his waking, he slumped down on the floor and opened the door a crack to listen in.

“...not Harry's fault. I'm not even sure it's totally Remus's fault.”

“I know that, but it doesn't take away from the fact that Remus tried to rape him.” Hermione sounded as incensed as ever, the sound making Harry grit his teeth and struggle to keep quiet while he listened in.

“But I don't think keeping them apart like this is a great idea, either. I mean, I didn't see Remus last time, but from what you and Ginny told me, the bond will seriously mess him up. It looks like it's having some sort of effect on Harry, too.” Harry frowned when he heard Hermione scoff.

“That's not the bond, Ronald. That's just Harry's stupid saving people thing. He doesn't want Remus to suffer, so he's going running back to him like nothing ever happened. Well, I won't have it. I won't let him put himself in danger again just to spare someone else's pain. Someone, might I add, who doesn't deserve it, not after what he did.”

“We can't keep him locked up here like a prisoner, Hermione! You yourself told us that not a lot is known about the finer details of this kind of bond, so how are you so certain that it really is just Harry being a git, and not the bond?”

Silence.

Harry was amazed for a moment that Ron had managed to stun Hermione into silence, but the shock was short-lived as she piped up again. “I just...I know it, Ronald!” She paused, and Harry heard her voice calm down and sound somewhat defeated. “We'll figure out what to do about Harry tomorrow. Come on, let's go to bed. I just want to make sure Harry's okay before, though.”

The shuffling of the pair of them coming down the hall gave Harry about two seconds' warning before he silently shut the door, took off his glasses and rearranged himself on the bed roughly how he'd lain when he'd woken. He listened to the soft creak of the door partially opening, then shutting a moment later. Harry kept an ear on the soft murmurs of Ron and Hermione continuing to bicker down the hall until their voices faded into silence.

As the flat became still, Harry opened his eyes and made a grab for his glasses again. Walking as silently as he could towards the door. He was intent on sneaking out and going to find out what Hermione had done to Remus, but he stopped short when he felt some sort of invisible barrier surrounding the door, barring him from coming into contact with it. He recognized it at once as Hermione's attempt at keeping him from sneaking off, and he whipped out his wand, muttering a string of incantations under his breath. With one hand pressed to the ward, the other trying a number of counter-charms, but the wards refused to budge. On his fifth attempt, he heard a soft hissing, followed by a crackle like wood in a fireplace, and with an audible yelp he was thrown across the room, landing softly on the centre of the bed.

Harry dropped his wand at his side and stared at the door. He raked his hands through his hair, shaking with anger, misery, and betrayal. What was he going to do?
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon