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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
A/N: Why am I posting two chapters at once? 1. Because I'm an impatient fuck and I was really really looking forward to sharing this one. 2. Because I will be starting back to school monday after next, and I'm trying to get out as much work as I can before then. Enjoy!
Warning: This chapter contains sequences of violence and mild gore.
Chapter 12 – Pack

Harry did not bother to call on Ron or Hermione.

What was there to say?

Harry had never felt so alone. Remus was gone again, and there was a finality to his actions that burned to Harry's core. It felt as though this time Remus truly wasn't coming back.

Harry did not feel half-mad from the loss, not like he had before, but he could feel the oppressive depression of the loss weighing him down. He went through the motions of each passing day mechanically. Each morning he washed, ate, then spent the day staring listlessly into the fire before he ate again and knocked back a vial of Dreamless Sleep in order to ease him into sleep. He was grateful for the potion, with it there was the added promise that he would not dream of Moony.

Harry did not know what day it was. All he knew was he had to eat. He had to sleep. He didn't want anyone to worry about him. Harry was determined to find a way to cope with this, while the bond was positively screaming at him to go and find Remus.

This time, Harry refused. Remus had had his chances, plenty of them. He had made it abundantly clear that he did not want Harry, and that thought alone made him feel even more worthless. What would happen now? He was stuck in this state of partial turning, and Harry wasn't certain if he even could return to work in this state.

Harry mentally cursed Remus for being right on that count, and glared at the glowing embers of the dying fire.

It was four days before Harry stepped outside of Grimmauld Place.

He could not tell exactly, but he recalled taking sleeping potion four times since Remus's departure, and thus by his calculation it must have been four days, at least.

In the late evening, Harry dressed, shaved, and brushed his teeth; all the things he might do if he was planning to go on a pub crawl with his mates, when in reality all he had planned was a nightly stroll.

He was empty, certainly, but he was not as dense as he had been during his adolescence, and he could clearly see the concern in Kreacher's ghostly, aged eyes. If Harry did not do something that at least vaguely resembled productivity soon, he was certain that the elf would call on his friends to check on him, and Harry didn't want them to worry.

The night air was cool and damp, but the tarmac was dry, and the trees were creaking in a light breeze. After such a long period of time cooped up inside, Harry felt as though some life had been breathed into his lungs again by the sounds and smells of the night, and his head felt a little clearer.

After he double-checked to make sure that he had his wand, Harry crammed his hands into his jeans pockets, and with his back slightly hunched over, he strolled down the road. Harry wasn't sure where he was going and what he would do when he got there, all Harry knew for certain was that he needed to move.

A gust of wind rustled his hair, and it blew the cloud cover away from the full moon. Harry looked up, and felt his heart swell. The mere sight of it reminded him of Remus, and again he felt that terrible emptiness that the werewolf had left behind. In many ways, it felt as though Remus had taken part of Harry's soul with him when he left.

Harry stopped in front of a decrepit park, the same one where Greyback had approached him the previous year with the letter that had changed everything. He sat down heavily upon one of the swings, its iron chains creaked in the still night air, and Harry rocked his heels in the gravel lightly, his gaze still focused upon the swell of the moon.

Except, the night wasn't nearly as silent as Harry expected it to be.

Rumbling.

Harry was on his feet and had his wand drawn in an instant, and he looked around wildly for the source of the sound. Was it an earthquake? It sounded so close. Unfortunately, in the darkness Harry could not see where the sound was coming from, or what was causing it.

“Oh, this is stupid,” Harry muttered to himself as he suddenly remembered that his wand in his hand, “Lumos.”

The tip of his wand illuminated, and it shone towards the small copse of trees, and it highlighted much more than the flora of the park.

Blended in almost perfectly with the surrounding trees was the silhouette of a huge wolf.

It stepped forward, lip curled and growling, and Harry recognized it at once by the distinctive streak of grey down its back.

Harry was frozen, shock and fear intermingling in his mind as he strove to recall what to do when facing a werewolf on a full moon—one that could rip him limb from limb as easily as blinking.

Still snarling dangerously, the giant creature took a solitary step forward.

That single movement broke Harry's brittle courage, and he bolted.

He tore past the trees and towards the open football field beyond it where he'd have space to run and not run the risk of cornering himself. He could hear Greyback giving chase as he zigzagged randomly across the grass, and made sharp turns that the werewolf's large, bulky body could not make nearly as quickly. Greyback's heavy paws thundered behind him, but like Harry had expected, his sharp movements were difficult for him to follow as precisely as he could have, had Harry run straight on.

At first, it seemed to be working. Harry began to feel hopeful that he'd somehow get out of this—maybe by some wild fluke he'd tire Greyback out and he'd escape. The moment the hopeful thought passed through his mind however, his foot landed on an abandoned beer can, and the aluminum moulded to the shape of his trainer. Harry slipped and was sent sprawling onto the grass with a sharp grunt, and it took a few kicks to get the can off his foot. Unfortunately, his tumble had given Greyback plenty of time to catch up to him, but Harry refused to roll over and die. Not again.

Harry jumped up and ran for the trees, but Greyback seemed to have anticipated his actions, and caught the collar of his jumper in his jaws. Choking, Harry's escape was cut short, and he fell again at the feet of the beast.

Harry's breath was coming hard and fast, and his face was beaded with sweat. It was a zip-up jumper, and he quickly yanked the zip free and peeled himself out of the garment, like a newt dropping its tail. He was off again, with the werewolf in hot pursuit.

Harry made for the trees, and gave his wand a sharp flick to extinguish it as he was enveloped by the darkness, and he wove through the thick trunks as he searched for one with boughs low enough for him to reach. He hoped to find one low enough for him to climb up far enough that Greyback would not be able to reach him but in his haste, Harry had not been watching the ground as closely as he should have, and his foot caught on a tree root.

Harry felt the wind rush out of him as he fell again, and he skinned his palms against the aged bark of a nearby oak. Harry did not allow himself to pause, and whirled around at once to find that Greyback had stopped mere feet from him, his lip curled back in a dangerous snarl.

“G-Greyback,” Harry said, grimacing at the tremor in his voice. He backed up slowly, and Greyback mirrored his steps. “Please—” Harry cut himself off, uncertain how much of Greyback's rational mind was actually in there, or what he could possibly say to get the alpha wolf to back down. Harry stepped back again, only to feel his back press into the bark of a wide tree.

Harry saw his hindquarter muscles tense, and Harry screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the piercing pain of inch-long teeth to sink into his meaty flesh, but instead he felt a rush of a breeze brush his face, and a second growl joined Greyback's.

Harry's eyes snapped open, and at once his breath caught as he recognized the mass of grey and tawny fur that stood between him and Greyback.

Moony.

Harry felt joy and relief swell in his chest. As his panic began to ebb, he was momentarily distracted from the danger of the situation he was in by the sheer size of Moony. Seeing him since he had stopped taking the wolfsbane Harry knew that he had gotten larger, but when put beside Greyback, that change was made even more apparent.

At one time, Moony had been significantly smaller than Greyback; a dwarf facing a giant. But now, they were almost equal in stature; Moony was more slender and Greyback more heavily built, but the change in him was still staggering.

Greyback snarled in warning, but Moony did not back off. He puffed himself up, meeting the alpha wolf with a warning growl of his own. Harry kept absolutely still as he watched the pair, his hands trembling ever so slightly and his T-shirt clung to his chest, his skin a sheen of cold sweat. Harry held his breath as he watched and waited. It felt a little strange that he was the thing that Greyback and Moony were fighting over, but he was not stupid enough to try and get between them or run off. He had a feeling that he wouldn't get very far. Harry saw Moony's back legs tense, and it began.

Moony crouched and took a flying leap. Greyback howled as the smaller wolf latched himself firmly onto his throat, and Harry could smell blood in the air. Greyback swiped at him with his claws, and Harry winced as Moony yelped and let go. With his left flank stained a dark red, Moony whirled around and went in for a second attack, apparently unfazed by the injury.

Both wolves leapt at each other, and their jaws locked together. They jumped apart and leapt back at one another so fast that Harry struggled to follow their movements. Every time Greyback made it past Moony's defences and sunk his teeth into the smaller wolf Harry winced along with his yelp of pain, but Moony did not give in, and went straight for Greyback again.

The werewolves were bleeding in several places, and after an indeterminable amount of time they backed off a little. Their eyes were still flashing dangerously, they were still growling, but panting heavily as they circled each other, looking for an opening to attack again. Harry dug his fingernails into the dirt as he watched, his breath stilled as he waited for the fight to recommence.

Greyback struck first, and Harry cried out the same moment Moony did. The werewolf's high whine pierced the night air and Harry watched with horror as Greyback took Moony by the throat and slammed him bodily into the ground. For a few moments Moony squirmed and struggled, but he could not get free of Greyback's hold. Harry cringed as he heard Moony's breaths become more ragged, and Greyback let out a muffled growl as his teeth sunk deeper into Moony's flesh. Moony vocalized one last soft, plaintive whimper before he went still, his eyes pleading with the alpha, but he did not dare move.

Greyback released Moony as he rounded on Harry, and Moony lay down upon the ground, ears flat against his head as he pressed himself bodily into the ground, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

Harry sat rooted to the spot. He pressed his back more firmly into the tree's bark as he stared at the enormous wolf that was advancing upon him, and all thought of trying to escape fled from his mind as he dissolved into a state of blind panic.

“No...” Harry said, his voice barely above a whimper as the werewolf approached him, “G-Greyback, please...don't—don't!”

Harry gasped sharply and tried to lurch away as the werewolf's enormous, bloodied jaws opened wide, closed over his throat, and dragged Harry to the ground. Aside from his hyperventilating, Harry remained perfectly still, his eyes bulging in their sockets as he felt the werewolf bite down.

Pinpricks of pain—less painful than a vaccination needle—and miraculously, Greyback let him go.

Harry watched, slack-jawed, as Greyback stepped away from him walked over to where Moony was laying. Greyback nudged him gently, and Moony's tail wagged feebly. It took Harry a moment to understand that Greyback was checking to see if Moony was all right, though why Greyback would even care if Moony was okay seemed beyond strange to him.

After most of his fear had drained away and Harry was at least marginally certain that he wouldn't be attacked again he sat up. He reached up tentatively to touch his throat where he had been bitten, and when he retracted his fingers, they came away smeared with such a tiny amount of blood it was less like he'd been attacked by a werewolf, and more like he'd nicked himself shaving.

Harry looked back up from his fingers, and immediately he rubbed at his eyes roughly, certain that he was seeing things.

He watched Greyback gently nudge Moony until he stood up, and both werewolves loped towards him. Greyback lay down on Harry's left side, and Moony sat at Harry's right, whimpering and nudging Harry's cheek, a mournful look in his amber eyes.

Harry was still numb with shock, and he didn't move as Moony's large tongue laved over the minor injuries, cleaning up the blood that had trickled down to the collar of his shirt. Harry sat still, numb with shock over everything that had transpired that evening, and silently allowed Moony to clean his wounds. When he finished, Moony lay down the same way Greyback had, boxing Harry in between two great, furry bodies.

Harry stared at the pair of them in bewilderment as his mind slowly calmed and he began to work through the strange series of events that had transpired. He checked his watch, miraculously unscathed from his misadventure, and stared at the time depicted there in shock. Had it really only been half an hour? Harry shook his head a little, a wave of dizziness replacing his panic.

The werewolves appeared to be sleeping. Moony and Greyback's heads were turned inward and rested atop their crossed forepaws, and their tails were outstretched, enclosing Harry between them; though he couldn't tell whether they were caging him in or protecting him.

Harry shifted slightly, and at once Greyback growled in warning. He froze, and stared from Greyback, whose lip was still curled slightly, to Moony. His eyes were open, but apart from that he hadn't moved a muscle. He was staring up at Harry with an almost human, apologetic look in his eyes, but remained where he was. When Greyback appeared satisfied that Harry wasn't going to run he settled down again and went back to sleep.

An hour passed, and still Harry was stuck between the sleeping wolves, at a loss for what to do. He had racked his brains as he tried to remember something, anything about what to do if you suddenly found yourself trapped between two sleeping werewolves. Nothing at Hogwarts, nor in his Auror training had prepared him for this. Harry wasn't even sure what this was. Why were they keeping him here? What did Greyback do? Was he actually turned? Why didn't Greyback tear a chunk out of him like he had Remus? All of the questions were making Harry's head ache.

I need to get out of here, Harry thought fiercely, Hermione will know what to do. She knows everything.

Harry tried to move again, and was met with another threatening snarl from Greyback. He froze again and stared as both werewolves shifted closer to him, all but pinning him in place.

Harry felt his panic begin to rise again as he looked down at his wand, still clutched in his hand. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that werewolves were impervious to many kinds of magic, meaning that escape from the pair of them was unlikely. The fact that Moony seemed to have turned against him was perplexing and was yet another betrayal to add to Remus's ever-growing list, but Harry pushed it to the back of his mind for the moment—knew that he needed to deal with one problem at a time.

Would a talking Patronus work? He wondered idly, his hold on his wand tensing slightly. The problem was that in Harry's adult life, a talking Patronus was one of the few charms he'd never quite gotten the hang of. He'd managed it—sort of—once, when he experimentally sent his stag to Ron to invite him out for a pub crawl. It had gotten to him all right, but the message had been entirely in Russian. Harry hadn't the foggiest idea how he'd managed that one—he didn't even know Russian. Harry shook his head a little to dispel the memory, and stared down at his wand, wondering if he should give it a shot anyway.

The moment Harry had raised his wand to try however, he let out a soft gasp of surprise as Moony's jaws closed over Harry's wrist in warning, the amber eyes both pleading and apologetic. When he did not immediately react Moony bit down gently, not hard enough to break the skin, but certainly enough to hurt. Another gasp escaped him, and Harry's wand tumbled from his fingers. Moony released him and rested his head over his paws again, and Harry scrambled to pick his wand back up. When he did not lift it, neither werewolf reacted, and again Harry was stuck sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. The sun would come up eventually, and it would be rather difficult to explain to the early-morning footballers why he was caught between two older, very naked and injured men.

Harry sat very still, and he watched the moon cross the sky, and glanced down periodically to check his watch. Not long after midnight, both werewolves seemed to have finally fallen into a proper sleep. Harry shifted experimentally, and when neither creature reacted, he felt a flicker of hope.

Moving slowly and carefully, Harry inched into a crouched position, balanced precariously upon his toes and fingertips. He stood up just as slowly, stepped over the sleeping canines, and tip-toed his way through the trees and towards the field.

He hadn't gotten very far however before a loud bark broke the silence, and the thundering footfalls of Greyback's massive, hulking form caught up with him before he'd even managed to break into a run. Growling angrily at Harry, he bit down upon the hem of Harry's T-shirt and dragged him bodily back to where Moony was waiting. Like earlier, Moony was pressed flat against the ground, ears pressed against his head as he watched his alpha and Harry return, Greyback growling, and Harry struggling against his hold.

When they reached Moony Greyback knocked Harry to the ground with a sharp headbutt, and Harry landed hard on his arse, grunting a little as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Both wolves curled around Harry again, though now it felt much more like a prison cell than a protective wall, and every minor movement Harry made—even an involuntary twitch of his muscles was met with a nip of warning from Greyback's teeth.

If you think I'm giving up on getting out of here you've got another thing coming, Harry thought as he glared down at the beast.

Again Harry waited, biding his time, and again when he thought that they were both asleep he stood and took off. No sooner had his body heat disappeared from between the pair, Harry heard their yips cries, but this time it was Moony who chased him down. He shepherded Harry back to his Alpha, bringing him back much more gently than Greyback had, with an apologetic look in his eyes.

Harry did not sleep at all that night, and every few hours he made another bid for freedom, only to be corralled by either Moony or Greyback, and dragged back to the little spot they seemed to have claimed as temporary territory for the night.

Harry couldn't make heads or tails of their strange behaviour, and in the time between his escape efforts something else caught his notice: Greyback's the Portkey Cuff, the one the Aurors had affixed to his ankle, seemed to be missing.

Harry could not recall hearing anything about the Aurors being notified that it had been tampered with, but then he hadn't been to the office for a while. It unsettled him, but Harry knew that it was definitely a concern for another day. He refocused his attention back on the problem at hand, and once more tried to figure out how he could get away from them, or at least far enough away to Apparate, and why they were keeping him here to begin with.

At daybreak, Harry watched the pair of bodies surrounding him twist and contort, he winced as their bones broke audibly and reset themselves, the thick fur disappeared, and ever so slowly, two men replaced the two creatures that had held him hostage all through the night. Throughout the transformation neither of them woke, and Harry figured that this would be his best chance to get back home.

Harry had barely begun to move before a hand at his throat stopped him short.

“Let me go, Greyback,” Harry said as firmly as he could manage, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“No,” he rumbled, his hold on Harry tightening ever so slightly. Greyback moved to face him, and his mouth was stretched into a feral grin.

“Why not?” Harry demanded, and grimaced a little as Greyback squeezed his throat in warning.

“You're pack, I've marked you,” Greyback rumbled, as though the fact that he'd been marked—whatever that meant—was a simple enough explanation. “You belong with us.”

“Like Hell I am,” Harry snarled, and wrenched himself out of Greyback's grip, but he didn't get far before the man caught up to him again, a large hand wrapping around his throat and squeezed, cutting off his oxygen intake for the briefest of moments, enough of a warning to momentarily still Harry's escape efforts. He looked around wildly, but Remus sat crouched not far from them, his eyes downcast and one knee drawn up to his chest. With his scabbed-over bite injuries, in particular at his throat, he looked as bad as Harry felt.

“You are pack,” Greyback repeated in a snarl, drawing Harry's attention back to the alpha, “I have laid claim on you for my pack, which means that regardless how your pathetic mate feels, your place is with us now. Next moon, you will be turned, and then you shall truly be one of us.”

Harry was struck dumb in his shock at the proclamation. At the same time, there was no way in hell he was going anywhere with Greyback just because he said so. He pointed his wand at the man—the very naked man—and shot a nonverbal Impediment Jinx at him. It wouldn't be as powerful as it would have been on a normal human, but the hiss of shock and the way his body froze gave Harry the opening he had been looking for all night, and while he kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier, he pulled his throat free of the werewolf's grip and took off at a run, then when he was certain that he was far enough away, he Disapparated.
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck