Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18458 -:- 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
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: The past week has not been fun for this writer over here ;_; (or his cat...poor baby.). The next few chapters were subjected to a massive overhaul because I looked at them and went: “well, this makes absolutely no sense...” and the next three chapters in particular that are going up had to be completely redone from scratch. Tl;dr my brain hurts. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this next instalment!
Edited and reposted 16/08/2016. It was pointed out to me by some that elements of the assault recovery were highly unrealistic and I went back over everything and reworked it. I did my best, and if anyone still feels that I'm going about it the wrong way, feel free to comment on it. (I really do appreciate the concrit, it helps me become a better writer. Don't spare my feelings when it comes to this. If there's glaring errors, I'd much rather they be pointed out rather than ignored.)
Chapter 13 – Scar Tissue

Harry was pretty sure that Hermione was channelling Vernon Dursley.

That was the only explanation he could come up with that might explain why she felt that it was 'for his own good' to lock him up in a small, windowless room for an extended period of time. The only social contact he had was Hermione's daily efforts to 'reason' with him from the other side of the door.

“I'm so sorry Harry,” she would say tearfully at the beginning of every lecture, “but you have to understand, I had to do this. I can't let you near him, it's not safe—” At which point Harry tuned her out, furious, afraid, and almost sick with despair. The lecture would last maybe fifteen minutes before she would leave him alone until the next day.

At first, Harry had tried to reason with her.

“Hermione, this is mad,” he punctuated his cries with his fist pounding on the wall, “let me out!” His heart had jumped into his throat every time he called out to her while his mind supplied a soundtrack of bad memories that the situation evoked. 'Well, I've got news for you, boy...I'm locking you up...you're never going back to that school...never...' Harry's breath hitched and his stomach lurched in panic-induced nausea, and he backed away from the wall and the sound of her tearful apologies and excuses that she had to lock him up like an animal. For his own good.

He couldn't understand how this had happened. Of all the people he expected to turn on him, Hermione was the last. Ron, to his credit, seemed to be on his side, though it was a small comfort, as up to now he was unable to make her see sense.

“C'mon Hermione,” Harry heard Ron say on the third day of his captivity, his voice muffled by the closed and warded door, “this has gone far enough; just let him out. This isn't fair to Harry!”

“No Ron!” Hermione snarled, so viciously that it made Harry jump in alarm. “Not until I've found a way to break this bond, this...this—curse.” Harry gritted his teeth at her word choice, but he did not speak, afraid that if she knew he could overhear them so easily that she might add a silencing charm to the wards. As much as he loathed what she'd done, he was very afraid that he might actually go mad without any social stimulation.

After a fortnight of being locked in the room, Harry began to wonder if she might actually keep him confined indefinitely. The only indicator to him of the passage of time was the food spelled into the room three times a day. He was never let out, but it was obvious Hermione had done something to him, as in that time he never needed the toilet. She showed no sign of planning on letting him out any time soon, and Harry was privy to more than one shouting match between the couple because of this. Ron was still all but begging Hermione to free him, while Hermione point-blank refused to let Harry go anywhere until she found a 'cure' that would dissolve the bond.

At first, Harry had felt deeply betrayed by Ron, just as much as with Hermione. But as time passed, it was clear to him that his best mate was still on his side. Every night after Hermione went to bed, Harry could hear the familiar soft murmur of Ron's voice attempting to break her wards. So far, he'd been unsuccessful.

Christmas arrived, a fact Harry only knew as he'd overheard Hermione debate with Ron about whether it was a good idea to leave Harry alone for a few days or not. The debate would quickly dissolve into another shouting match, Ron trying to reason with Hermione's newfound madness, and Hermione point-blank refusing to budge. Harry pressed his ear against the wall and listened to the argument, shivering with panic and misery as he listened to Hermione's shrill tones—he almost didn't recognize the venom in her voice anymore.

In the end, the couple disappeared to the Burrow, leaving Harry completely on his own. The lack of aural stimulation quickly began to mess with his head; every soft groan of the building, the pitter-patter of Crookshanks racing up and down the hallway, the incessant twittering of Pig—it all sounded deafening to him. Harry clutched at his hair and rocked back and forth on the bed, struggling to reign in the panic that was always so close to the surface these days.

He shivered, feeling sickened with himself. Oh, how the mighty have fallen... Harry thought, smiling bitterly into the crook of his arms. Who knew extended isolation was all that was needed to break The Saviour of The Wizarding World. He felt utterly pathetic.

Harry lay in silence for a long time, feeling no thrill of the festivities that Ron and Hermione were likely enjoying at that moment. If I ever get out of here, I'm definitely telling Molly what they've done... he thought, the rancorous humour behind it buoying his spirits just enough to keep him from losing himself in his misery.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. A memory bubbled to the surface of his mind of a certain free house elf who had come to his aid the last time he'd found himself imprisoned. Would it perhaps work again? He sat up and stared uncertainly at the heavily warded door.

“Kreacher?”

Crack.

“Damn it!” Harry yelled, staring at the wall where the muffled sound of Kreacher's apparition had come from.

“Master called?” Kreacher croaked from the other side of the door. “Miss Hermione told Kreacher you is staying with them for the Season, but then why is you warded so strongly in one room?” Harry snorted at the feeble excuse Hermione had offered the elf.

“Yeah, Kreacher, Hermione may have stretched the truth a bit. Listen, can you break the wards? I need you to get me out of here.” Harry strained his ears, and for a long time Kreacher was silent.

“Kreacher will try,” he said at last, and Harry felt his entire body sag with relief. “The wards Miss Hermione have put in place are very strong, but Kreacher will try.”

Harry listened to the low murmur of Kreacher working at the wards around the door, keeping quiet as he waited to see if Elf Magic was as powerful as he thought it was. By Harry's count, it took a good thirty minutes before he heard soft click of the door unlocking. The door swung open and for a moment Harry could only stare, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

Harry stepped out into the hall on shaking limbs, breathing the free air for the first time in over two weeks. He was so busy looking around that for a moment he forgot about the elf that stood next to him, waiting quietly for further instruction.

“Thanks Kreacher,” he said at last, turning to smile at the elf. He bowed low, and when he'd righted himself Harry drew his wand and cast a few quick cleaning spells on himself. He felt grimy and greasy, but he didn't dare take the time to properly shower before going home—what if they came back?

Home. Harry felt almost giddy at the prospect. At the same time however, he felt a thrill of fear. This would be the first proper time he would be seeing Remus since the incident, and he had no idea what to expect.

“How has Remus been?” Harry asked conversationally, and Kreacher apparently oblivious to the nervousness that laced his tone.

“The werewolf feels deeply ashamed for what he has done,” Kreacher spoke in a monotone, not voicing his opinion on the matter one way or the other—for a change. “He tries to make amends, but Miss Hermione will not let him near this place. He tells Kreacher of a strange Portkey she uses to banish him to far-off places, but still he keeps trying to return. The werewolf pines for Master Harry greatly.”

Harry didn't doubt it and smiled warmly, not missing how Kreacher had omitted a certain adjective from his response.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you were staring to like him,” the comment earned him a noncommittal grunt, and Harry smiled as he turned to the front door. “C'mon, let's get me out of here.”

“Of course, Master.”

~*~

Kreacher brought Harry to the front step of Grimmauld Place, and he was grateful that the elf had the forethought to bring him there, instead of directly inside. It gave Harry a moment to breathe and brace himself to see Remus. Though he had spent the better part of the last fortnight longing to see the older man, now that he was about to, memories of the incident flashed through Harry's mind in quick succession. It took Harry a great deal of effort to keep himself from hyperventilating.

Harry took a deep breath in an effort to calm down, and curled his fingers around his wand tightly. He tapped on the door sharply and it slowly creaked open. With his heart pounding in his ears, Harry crossed the threshold and stepped into the front hall.

Despite his fear at seeing Remus again, Harry had to admit that it was good to be home. The familiar sights and smells made Harry relax at once, and as he moved further inside he froze, his eyes finding Remus, who had stepped uncertainly into the hall to see who it was. His movements stilled just as Harry's had, and for a long moment neither man spoke, and merely drank in the sight of the other. It was Remus who broke the silence first.

“Harry, I—”

Whap!

Remus's words were cut short as Harry stormed forward and punched him, hard. His head jerked sharply to the side and he stumbled back a few paces with a cry of surprise and pain. Remus's hand clamped down over his cheekbone, his eyes wide. Breathing hard, Harry stared the werewolf down. The sound of the older man's voice had sparked an anger in him that completely eclipsed the fear he had felt mere moments before.

“That was a really shitty thing you did, Remus. You lost control quite spectacularly twice leading up to the last full moon, and one of those times you nearly did something you would seriously regret, had I not stopped you. Explain yourself.” Harry spoke with an even tone of voice, his knuckles throbbing painfully. It surprised Harry that punching someone with a closed fist could hurt so much. He refused to let this pain show on his face while he stared down his partner.

Harry's gaze focused solely on the werewolf, who was unable to meet his eye. Remus stared at his shoes while he opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to find the right words. “I—the moon this time, it was more intense, and it was difficult to control myself when it came to my desires for you.”

Harry was rather proud of the fact that he did not blush at that, but kept his expression neutral as Remus continued, his hand still cupping his reddening cheek. “My guess is that with us moving forward intimately, my desires for you increased in a way that made it more difficult to control myself this past moon, as you saw.”

“That still doesn't excuse what you did, Remus.”

“I know,” he said quickly, “there is no excuse for what I did to you, none at all. I am very grateful that you stopped me before I did something unforgivable.” He paused, looking very much like an abused puppy in that moment. It both pleased and hurt Harry to see it. Stupid bond, I just want to be cross with him for a little longer. He doesn't deserve to be forgiven, not so soon. Harry shook himself from his thoughts as Remus spoke again.

“However, I'd like to make it up to you, if you'll let me.” Remus took a small step forward, but Harry reacted instinctively, and took a quick step backward. The older man's face fell a little, and Harry refused to allow himself to react to it. He could not deny that he still very much wanted to be with Remus, but Harry no longer knew if he actually could. Was their relationship even salvageable after what had happened between them?

After a long moment of awkward silence, Harry took a nervous step forward. Remus reached for him slowly, ensuring that Harry could catch every movement, and move away if he wanted to. Harry felt slightly sick with panic, his courage failing as Remus got too close, and he jumped back. The werewolf froze, and did not approach him further.

“This is so fucked up,” Harry winced as his voice cracked, and took several steps away from the older man while he struggled to calm down. “I just... This thing happened, then the thing with Ron and Hermione basically kidnapping me and now...” He took a great shuddering breath, the world warping as his eyes glazed over with tears. “Fuck.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes and at the same moment heard the soft shuffle of Remus taking an uncertain step forward.

“Don't,” Harry lifted a hand, and once more Remus froze.

Harry looked up at last, and stared at the man he once trusted so completely. He felt dizzy with misery, wishing so desperately—not for the first time—that this had never happened. The bond meant that they were stuck, and separating would not only hurt them, but remembering what happened the last time he'd tried hiding from Remus, it could become dangerous, too.

“I want to fix things,” Harry said at last, his voice hoarse and shaky, “but I don't know how much of that is the bond, encouraging me to do so, and how much is me-me.”

“The compulsion is likely from the bond,” Remus looked away as he spoke, Harry not missing the deep look of shame in the older man's eyes. “Whatever you want, Harry...anything that will make you feel more at ease. I will do it.” Harry crossed his arms, and regarded the werewolf with a small frown.

“You scared me, Remus,” Harry began, looking away from him as he attempted to sort through his mess of emotions. “You held me down, and you hurt me,” Harry's voice trembled, and he paused to take several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself.

“I want us to go back how we were,” he continued, still not meeting Remus's gaze that he could feel boring into him. “But right now the idea of being physically close with you is not something I'd be comfortable with,” Harry was rather pleased with himself for maintaining something close to a sense of calm, despite the fact that he felt as though he'd been split down the middle—half of him longing to throw himself at Remus, the other longing to turn, run, and never look back.

Harry looked back up at Remus, who had a tortured look in his eyes, and the look alone told Harry how deeply the man regretted his actions. He was silent for a long time, looking at Harry as though they were separated by a thick stone wall.

“I will do everything in my power to regain your trust,” he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

Remus sincerity brought a lump to Harry's throat. Momentarily losing his ability to speak, he nodded.

~*~

In the sitting room, Harry was in his usual seat on the sofa, while Remus sat at the opposite end. Harry felt again that mixture of prickling fear and longing for closeness churn in his stomach as he looked at the man. In spite of Harry's near-constant longing to see him over the last weeks, he couldn't completely stifle his nervousness at the Remus's close proximity, especially considering what had happened the last time they'd been physically 'close'.

A plate of biscuits and Kreacher's favourite horrid floral teapot materialized on the coffee table in front of them, effectively breaking through some of the tense atmosphere. Harry immediately reached for a chocolate-covered digestive and crammed it into his mouth. The action reminded him painfully of Ron, and he still felt completely at a loss for what he was going to do about that. However, Harry's primary concern was to discuss things with Remus, but he found that he had no idea how to begin.

“Perhaps we should go back to the beginning,” Remus said slowly, breaking the silence, and averting his gaze when Harry finally looked up at him. “It might be best for us to be separated from one another when the full moon is near until you are more at ease with me again.” He continued, keeping his eyes focused on his knees while he spoke. “I don't want this to ever happen again, Harry. What I did...” he shook his head, and a soft growl escaped him, “there's no excuse for it. I want you safe, and if that means depriving myself of your company for however long you need, I'm willing to do it. Whatever you feel will help.”

Harry frowned and looked over the angry red lines on his face and partially concealed at his throat by the collar of his cardigan. Even after so much time, the self-inflicted injuries from the last full moon had not fully healed. The punch he'd delivered to Remus wouldn't even bruise—Harry could already see the redness fading into nothing, Remus's accelerated werewolf healing powers seemed to be taking care of it, though Harry was uncertain why it wasn't doing the same for those painful-looking scratches.

“I want things to go back how they were,” Harry said at last, for the moment dismissing his questions about Remus's current physical state. He looked down to his sticky chocolate fingers, and grabbed a napkin to mop up the melted chocolate while he gathered his thoughts. “I don't know what that means, exactly. I know it wasn't really you-you, but, at the same time...it was, you know?” Harry's voice died in his throat as he spoke, his last words barely above a whisper.

Remus shifted, and Harry felt his breath catch as the older man moved towards him, stopping just short of physically touching him. Trapped between the back of the sofa and its armrest, Harry pressed himself back into the upholstery and looked up at the older man with wide eyes.

“Tell me what you're feeling right now,” Remus said softly, his neutral mask giving away nothing of his personal feelings. Harry suspected this was Remus's attempt at keeping him calm, but in reality it made Harry more anxious, not less.

It took a moment for Harry's mind to register that he'd been asked a question. He lifted his eyes to meet the familiar, honeyed gaze he'd grown so attached to over the last few months. Harry felt suddenly short of breath, as though a hand had suddenly wrapped around his throat. Hot breath, Remus's voice cutting in a terrifying, possessive rage, sharp pain in the form of love bites...

“Scared,” Harry breathed the word, panting as though he'd just run a marathon. Remus reached forward slowly, and Harry flinched. At once, Remus froze his movements and shifted back to his original position. Ever so slowly, Harry felt his heart rate return to normal.

“I don't want you to force yourself on my account,” Remus murmured, his body quivering slightly as though he desperately wanted to touch Harry in some way. Harry hated how the idea made him sick with fear. “I don't deserve it, and you certainly don't deserve any more stress than what I've already caused.” Remus stood and stepped out of the room without looking back, the tea left virtually untouched.

~*~

Harry woke the next morning in his own bed, sunlight pouring in the window, the door wide open, and an impatient-looking Strax perched on the bedpost.

The previous evening hadn't been pleasant for Harry. He spent an inordinate amount of time feeling uncertain of which he feared more—the claustrophobic panic he felt when the door was shut, or the fear that leaving his door open would be misinterpreted as an invitation to a certain werewolf currently taking up residence in the guest room. In the end, the claustrophobia won out, and Harry knocked back a vial of Dreamless Sleep to ensure that he'd actually sleep.

“Morning,” he said to the owl, who hooted in return, extending his leg to show a letter tied there with the Ministry's crest stamped on it. Shaking off his sleep as best he could, he shuffled to the end of the bed and untied the letter, then reached for the bag of owl treats he usually kept on his bedside table. His fingers froze when he saw The Velvet Box still sitting there innocently. Knowing he'd probably regret it, he cast a quick Perception Shift Charm on it and stuffed it back into the drawer, vowing to properly deal with it later.

After placating the owl with a couple of treats Strax took off, likely in search of a proper breakfast from Kreacher. Not entirely ready to get up yet, Harry shifted back into his cocoon of blankets while he slit open the envelope. Brow knitted with curiosity, he unfolded the letter, and the first thing he noticed was it was dated from a week previously.

Potter—

I was told that you were indisposed by Weasley, but given that I have not heard from you in over a week, I must admit, I am concerned. Please reply promptly to this to let me know that you are not dead.

Auror M. Caldwell.

Harry smiled a little, flattered that she was worried about him, verbalizing it much in the same way McGonagall probably would have. After summoning some parchment, a self-inking quill, and a heavy book to write on, he found himself at a loss for what to say. He was torn between instinctive loyalty to his friends and the need to bring their shocking betrayal out into the open. Neither option felt right, and he had no idea what to do.

“Harry?”

Harry's head snapped up at the sudden sound of Remus's voice, and found him standing uncertainly in the door frame holding a tray of food, and wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms. Harry kept his eyes focused on the werewolf's face while he waited for him to speak. The red marks he'd inflicted on himself at the last moon were prominently displayed, and looking directly at them made Harry queasy with guilt. He knew that his absence at the last moon were the cause of those marks, but he felt no karmic joy at the sight of them.

“I thought you might be hungry...May I come in?” He was rocking a little on his feet with clear nervousness, but standing there with a tray of food, bathed in morning light.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said at last, and Remus hesitated for a moment longer before he stepped inside and offered the tray to Harry. He accepted it with a small smile, while Remus summoned his desk chair over to the bedside with a casual flick of his wand and sat down next to him, still careful to give Harry enough space, for which he was grateful.

Spearing a fried tomato with his fork, he stared at it for a long moment before shoving it in his mouth. Using the Weasley technique to eat seemed easier than trying to talk to Remus, who was watching him eat quietly.

“Caldwell wants to know where I've been,” Harry said conversationally after few minutes of silence, sipping his coffee while he stared down at the letter he'd set aside while he ate. “Seems she didn't entirely believe Ron when he told her I was indisposed.” Harry couldn't help sneering the word, his fingers tensing around the cup. “He and Hermione deserve to be arrested for basically kidnapping me but...they're still my friends.” He frowned, looking up toward the window while he thought it over.

“Harry,” Remus said, snapping Harry out of his daze, “I've known those two almost as long as you have, though admittedly not as well. Are you quite certain that no outside forces were influencing them?” The suggestion made Harry's eyes widen in surprise—that was something that had honestly not occurred to him. Remus continued before Harry had a chance to speak.

“I find it incredibly hard to believe that those two would do anything to endanger you, and this...something about it seems off to me. It would seem that your supervisor agrees with that sentiment, at least on some level.” Remus looked thoughtful as he spoke, the forefinger and thumb of his left hand brushing his unshaven chin.

Harry picked at his fried eggs, frowning as he thought it over. Part of him wished he could just fully blame Ron and Hermione for what they'd put him through then be shot of them. But, if he did that, wouldn't he be just as guilty as them when they blamed the whole incident on Remus? Harry liked to think that if they had been under the influence of some potion or spell, he, as their closest friend, would have been able to see it. Harry's frown deepened; was he really so thick that he couldn't tell that they had been enchanted?

“Talk to your Supervisor,” Remus encouraged when Harry didn't answer. “You don't have to make any decisions right now, but it might help to rule out foul play.” He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and squeezed Harry's forearm gently, reassuringly. The contact caused Harry to flinch, and Remus let go quickly, looking apologetic. Without another word, he hastened from the room and didn't look back.

Harry watched him go, feeling again that mixture of guilt, longing, and misery all jumbled together in his mind. Things had been going so well, why did this have to happen? It wasn't fair. Struggling to dismiss his worries over things with Remus and the bond, at least for the moment, he pulled the blank parchment forward and began to write.

Harry sent off Strax with an abridged version of what had happened to Caldwell straightaway, but it was full week before he heard anything back. In that time, December gave way to January, and the new year brought with it miserable, heavy sleet that pounded the windows mercilessly.

Remus had been very careful to give Harry his space as time went on. Harry slept alone, Remus stayed in the guest room, and on the whole they acted more like housemates than partners. Harry had no trouble admitting that he missed the feeling of contact with another person, and more than once he'd been tempted to sneak into the guest room and crawl in bed with the werewolf. Harry knew he wasn't ready he was for such physical contact, but with each passing day, close proximity with Remus had begun to shift, much more quickly that Harry thought was probably healthy. With the next full moon quickly approaching however, Harry was awash with fresh nerves, terrified of a repeat of last month's catastrophe. As a result, he was reluctant to voice his confusion at these feelings, afraid that—like last time—Remus would start something and be unable to stop. The idea that it could happen again terrified Harry, and he had no idea what could be done to alleviate his fears.

Strax returned with Caldwell's answer sopping wet and irritable, and took off the moment Harry had taken the letter from him, clearly not keen to go back out in such horrid weather. His mouth quirking into a small smile of amusement at the owl's attitude, he stretched out on the stone in front of the warm fire as he tore open the envelope. Remus was nearby in an armchair with his nose buried in a book. He looked up as Harry unfolded the letter, but he didn't say anything.

Potter—

Granger and Weasley have been taken in for questioning. Both show signs of residual magic on them, at the moment we're not sure what exactly. On top of that, it seems that whoever or whatever did this to them wiped their memories, as both claim no knowledge of their attack on your partner, nor holding you captive.

We intend to verify this with Veritaserum, however I wanted to ask if you would like to be present for the questioning. As I understand it, you three are rather close, and I can imagine this whole ordeal has not been easy for you. That said, I believe that if they are as innocent as they claim, it will be easier for you to move past it and begin to mend your friendship if you can hear their testimony for yourself. You needn't be in the same room as them, we have an observation room you may stay in to watch our questioning safely.

Think it over, I will not begrudge you if you decide to not witness their interrogation.
Auror M. Caldwell

“Good news?” Remus asked at last, and Harry looked up to see that he had set his book aside, and was watching him with a quiet, hopeful look.

“Sort of,” he handed the letter to him, his stomach somersaulting when their fingers lightly brushed together. Remus did not seem to react to the light contact as he took the sheet of parchment, his eyes darting back and forth as he read.

“Well, it points in a positive direction, certainly,” he said with a smile. He handed the letter back to Harry, who folded it up and tucked it in the pocket of his jeans. “I believe the question now is who would go to so much trouble to try and hurt you by going through your friends in such a brutal way.”

“I've got no shortage of enemies, that's for sure,” Harry said as he sat up and pressed his back against the coffee table while he threaded his fingers together thoughtfully. Though it looked like his friends had been under the influence of something that had been the cause of the entire ordeal, it was difficult for Harry to use that fact to summon any kind of forgiveness for them over what had happened—Hermione in particular. So much of what occurred seemed so very like them that Harry had a hard time believing that magic really was to blame. As for what enemy was likely to do such a thing, Harry came to the conclusion easily.

“As of right now, I'd say the most likely suspect is—” He began, but Remus cut him off before he could finish the statement.

“—Red Moon.” Harry smiled a little at Remus's interruption, pleased that their minds seemed to be on the same wavelength, at least in that respect.

“Yeah, but I haven't been exactly that present on the case over the last couple weeks, why would they single me out now?” Remus smiled a little in that infuriatingly familiar, knowing smile of someone who had noticed that Harry had, once again, missed an important point.

“Perhaps because, as much as you are loath to admit it, you are still Harry Potter,” Remus said, his smile widening when he saw a flush rise in Harry's cheeks. “Even after all this time, you are still a hero, a beacon of hope for many people.”

“Red Moon likely know of your...affiliations with werewolves,” Remus continued, his mouth quirking into a small half-smile at the innuendo, though it vanished the moment he saw Harry's frown. “Your positive attitude towards my kind mean less people are likely to side with their campaign of hate. It's only natural that they would see you as something of a threat.”

Harry watched Remus while he spoke, feeling a humourless smile stretch across his face. He was right of course, but the words words weren't exactly comforting. If Red Moon really were targeting Harry on top of every living werewolf in the country, how was he supposed to even begin to try and protect them?

Harry's gaze fell to the parchment poking out of his jeans pocket. The first thing he needed to confront was the betrayal of his friends. Pushing back his worries about what Red Moon might be up to, he tried to decide what he should do. He wanted to do the thing properly, be an adult and face his problems head-on, but the idea of facing Ron and Hermione on his own filled him with a childlike terror.

Harry looked back up, filled with the same nervous fear that had plagued him ever since coming home. His stomach turned over with a sensation not unlike vertigo, and Remus watched him calmly, his eyes questioning him, though he didn't speak.

“I know it's not the safest time right now, but...d'you think we could find a way for you to come with me, to the interrogation, I mean?” Remus's eyes seemed to brighten, and Harry quickly added, “it's just...I mean, things are kind of...well, fucked up between us, but I—I...I can't face them alone.” Harry felt his face burn with shame, while Remus smiled, a hopeful look in his eyes that Harry recognized at once, though he had no desire to comment on it.

“Anything you need, Harry.”
A/N: I'd just like to note here that I really struggled how to balance a genuine response to sexual assault and the magic of the bond pushing Harry to forgive Remus quickly. I'm not trying to be dismissive of the healing process from this kind of ordeal, and I hope it's come off as believable.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon