Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13 – Enough

Harry reappeared on the steps of Grimmauld Place and hurried inside. His chest was heaving as though he'd run the whole way, and the moment he shut the door behind him he turned back to it and flicked his wand, strengthening the wards as best he could in his hazy panic, and adding a few new ones to bar a specific werewolf from finding him too easily. He was certain that Greyback wouldn't be far behind when the Impediment Jinx wore off, and he wasn't about to make it easy for the alpha to find him.

When he was satisfied with the warding he'd set up, Harry dropped his wand arm with a soft sigh of exhaustion. As he stood there, his free hand brushed over the puncture marks at his throat. They were raised slightly and scabbed over, and Harry felt another thrill of fear rush through him.

It was true that he had entertained the idea of being turned, even welcomed it, but that was when he had had Remus. Things had been far from perfect, but they were good.

All alone, Harry had never felt more terrified.

Thunder overhead snapped Harry from his daze. His head whipped skyward, and it took him a moment to realize that no, it was not thunder, but heavy footsteps. Harry's head whipped towards the stairwell just in time to see Hermione practically flying down the stairs in her haste.

“Oh thank God,” she said, a hand clutched over her heart. “Ron!” she called, turning her head to yell up the stairs, “he's here! He's okay!”

“Good!” Ron's muffled voice called back, “tell him from me that he's a git!”

Hermione rushed forward to embrace him, and Harry careened back a little from the force of her hug. At the same time, Harry could hear the loud stomping of Ron rushing downstairs to join them.

“We were so worried!” Hermione said tearfully as she continued to hold onto him, “we didn't hear from you all day yesterday and last night was the full moon and I just had a bad feeling, and, oh, I'm just so relieved that you're okay!”

“I'm alive,” Harry rasped when she finally let him go, “not so sure if I'm okay...” Harry's hand moved to the marks on his throat and looked at Hermione significantly. She stared for a long moment, then brought her hands to her mouth in a gasp.

“Are those what I think they are?” she asked as she reached out a tentative hand to touch one of the puncture wounds. Harry nodded weakly to her question, and her brow furrowed as she escorted Harry to the sitting room. He plopped down in between his two friends and buried his face in his hands.

Harry felt so tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He knew better than to hope that Hermione would leave without a complete retelling of what had happened, and was therefore unsurprised when Hermione asked, “who did it?”

“Greyback,” Harry answered at once his face still in his hands. He was pleased that he managed to keep the tremor from his voice, however. “I've got one month before...” Harry trailed off, he couldn't say it. The words would not come, and instead of the thought of what awaited him in a mere thirty days settled as a knot of panic in his throat.

“So you're not turned yet?” Ron asked nervously, and Harry lifted his gaze to see Ron regarding him with a tendril of fear in his expression. From a pureblooded upbringing, Harry couldn't completely blame Ron for his reaction. Even after knowing Remus for years, there were still times when Harry would catch him staring at Remus with a wary, mistrustful gaze. To Ron's question Harry shook his head, and dropped his gaze again.

“The way Greyback explained it, it's was a sort of...claim. Remus took off again and I sort of...lost track of the cycles of the moon and decided to go for a walk. Greyback ambushed me, Moony tried to stop him, but he wasn't strong enough. Then I spent the whole night being held captive by Greyback and Moony.”

“Captive? Why?” Ron asked, his brow furrowing.

“If another pack wanted to, they could contest the claim, but only on the same moon when the claim is made,” Hermione replied at once, sounding as always like she'd swallowed a textbook. “They were protecting Harry to make sure that no one could take him away.”

“And Moony—Remus—he held you captive too?” Ron asked, his eyes wide. Harry nodded.

“I dunno why,” Harry replied while he dropped his gaze to his knees. “He didn't speak to me at all the next morning he just—”

“—that is not his fault, Harry,” Hermione said, and Harry's gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise.

“Why are you Remus's cheerleader all of a sudden, Hermione? Yeah, he tried to stop Greyback initially, but then—”

“—Greyback is his alpha, Harry,” Hermione said firmly, “Remus has no choice but to obey him, especially if they fought. They did fight, right?” Harry nodded silently. “And Moony lost?” Another nod. “That explains it, then.”

“I'm sorry but that explains it how?” Ron cut in, “Moony betrayed Harry, again, by switching sides because he was too weak to—”

“Weren't you listening, Ron? Greyback is Remus's alpha. An alpha's word is law. If Greyback says jump, Remus has to ask, 'how high?' if Greyback wants Harry marked to be turned, Remus can protest, but if he's incapable of beating the alpha in a physical fight, he has no choice but to bend to Greyback's wish.”

“He did look really remorseful all night,” Harry muttered, cutting in when he noticed Ron open his mouth to offer up an angry retort. He was far too exhausted to put up with their bickering this morning.

“I know Remus never wanted this for you, Harry,” Hermione said gently, “he wanted you to have a normal life. But...how did you get away? I would have assumed Greyback would have tried to take you straight back to the pack territory.”

Harry nodded, “He tried. Come morning Remus wouldn't even look at me, and Greyback tried to drag me off. I jinxed him and ran.”

Silence met Harry's explanation, and he turned to look at Hermione, who was chewing on her bottom lip, apparently caught somewhere between apprehension and worry. Before he could ask her what was on her mind, she pressed forward.

“Harry, erm, have you thought of what you're going to do?” Hermione asked tentatively, and Harry blinked with confusion.

“Do? There's nothing I can do, Hermione. I'm stuck, again.”

“I don't mean that,” she said gently, and her eyes took on a sorrowful, sympathetic look as she leant forward and rested a hand on his knee, “I mean...this won't be kept quiet. It's not illegal anymore to be turned, so if Greyback or Re—er, someone comes and turns you, they won't be taken away, but Harry...Werewolves are barred from being Aurors.”

Harry stared at Hermione. A heavy silence fell between them as the statement registered in his mind. It couldn't be true; she was joking. She had to be joking.

Hermione's expression did not change, and Harry gritted his teeth as he pulled away from her. She reached out to him to try and console him, but the moment her hand touched his arm she jerked back with a yelp as his magic escaped his control in his fury and anguish. Hermione recoiled, her palm smoking slightly, but otherwise unharmed.

Harry barely noticed her reaction as he jumped up and let out an enraged, anguished scream. His two best friends looked on with horror as the gas lamps flickered; the photographs on the walls rattled in their frames; the sofa's upholstery tore as though an invisible lion or tiger began to shred it, and with a thunderous crack the coffee table split cleanly in half, eliciting another scream of shock and fright from Hermione.

Harry stormed over to the mantelpiece and shoved all the ornaments and framed photographs that decorated it to the floor, and the glass ornaments shattered around him. Harry continued to scream, and rage, shout obscenities, and in his blind fury he tore down, threw, and otherwise reduced his sitting room to ruins.

Harry fell heavily upon the sofa again, tears streaking his cheeks, and he stared sightlessly at the splintered remains of the coffee table.

“All I ever wanted was to do was help people,” he said, his voice hoarse as he ignored the horrified looks that his friends were giving him. “From the first time I heard about it, all I wanted to be was an Auror. Thanks to Remus Lupin, now I'll never be one.”

“It's not Remus's fault,” Hermione said softly, and she reached out tentatively to grasp Harry's forearm. “You know that. Harry, it's just that these things, they—”

“—If you say they happen for a reason I swear to God I will hex you,” Harry growled, and Hermione's mouth snapped shut. She pulled her hand back, a wounded look in her eyes.

“Don't snap at her like that!” Ron said angrily, “we're on your side, we want to help so don't bite our fucking heads off!”

“What can you do?” Harry snapped back, jumping off the sofa again as he rounded on Ron. “Everything I've ever wanted, everything I've worked to build since the end of the war—it's all gone. So tell me Ron how can you possibly help? I'm stuck. Again.”

Harry watched Ron's jaw work as he fought to keep his anger in check, while Harry glared right back at them.

“C'mon Hermione,” he said at last, turning away from Harry, “let's leave Harry alone. Clearly he doesn't want our help.” His tone was cold and even, and he grabbed Hermione's hand.

“Oh, but...” she trailed off when Harry's glare did not soften, and she cast him one last troubled, sympathetic look. Her face stained with tears, she followed Ron into the front hall and out the door.

~*~

Harry was left in peace for less than an hour (in which he spent most of his time trying to strengthen the wards around the house to keep Greyback out) when a wolf's howl sounded from outside.

The ululation made Harry's blood run cold, and as he rushed to the window he silently prayed that he was hearing things.

Outside, Harry could see Greyback in his wolf form pacing back and forth along the edges of the property. It seemed as though he couldn't get in, which was a relief, but he didn't seem particularly inclined to leave, either. With so many muggles around, Harry wasn't sure what he could do to get him to leave (aside from giving himself up, which he really didn't want to do).

Strangely, it seemed as though even in this form, Greyback had a level of control over his magic. As Harry watched Greyback's procession back and forth along the edges of the property, he observed well over a dozen muggles—men, women, children, and even a number of cars pass him by without so much as a backward glance. Harry guessed it to be some sort of perception shift of glamour, but from such a distance, it was difficult for him to be certain.

After a few minutes, Harry watched Greyback slow to a stop and he sat down in front of his gate. Greyback's blue eyes were narrowed at the house he knew was there, but could not see or approach. He howled again, and Harry felt his arms break out into gooseflesh, while he felt a strange compulsion to answer the call. It was deeply unsettling that Greyback, of all people, held such a level of control over him, and it made his panic towards the entire situation spike significantly. Harry shook his head roughly, and slowly the feeling began to fade. He forced his gaze away from the window and stepped over to the sofa, where he sat down and he promptly dropped his head into his hands.

Without the visual aid telling Harry that Greyback was still out there, he was able to calm himself down—somewhat. He raked his hands through his hair, and took a shuddering breath. In an effort to distract himself, Harry forced his thoughts away from the unwanted visitor just outside of the house, and back to his friends.

Harry hoped that Hermione and Ron would relay what had happened to the others (those who wouldn't go running to the press, at any rate) and that he would be left alone. He wasn't certain that he could face telling everyone individually about what had happened—saying it once had been hard enough.

Unfortunately, Fate did not seem to think that Harry Potter deserved such a reprieve, and he uttered a soft curse when his Floo suddenly flared to life and Ginny Weasley tumbled onto the hearth.

Ginny didn't look up at Harry as she stood up and dusted off her robes. She then turned to him, that all-too-familiar blazing, determined look in her eyes, and strode over to where he sat.

Harry watched her approach apprehensively, uncertain what she was up to or why she had come. She sat down at his side without a word, and Harry let out a squawk of surprise as she reached forward and pulled himself to a tight embrace. Ginny held onto him tightly, not saying a word, and after his surprise had worn off, Harry caved and hugged her back in equal silence.

“Ron told me between swear words what happened,” Ginny said softly while she continued to hold onto him, “Harry, I'm so sorry.”

Harry had no idea what to say, and merely tightened his hold on her. He was so tired; tired of fighting, tired of losing everything and everyone that mattered to him—tired of all the sacrifice. Harry couldn't think of a way to verbalize what he was feeling, and merely buried his face in the crook of her neck and shuddered while he tried valiantly to hold himself together.

“I'm just so tired of it Ginny,” Harry mumbled hoarsely, “I just...I don't want this anymore. The only good thing about all of this is the bite will dissolve the bond and I'll never have to see Remus again.”

“Harry, you don't mean that,” Ginny said, her voice carrying a note of shock to it that Harry hadn't expected. She pulled away from Harry and forced him to look at her. “You love him and he loves you. And You know it's not the bond, it's you. If you leave him now, you'll regret it.”

“Not anymore,” Harry muttered, “Ginny, you didn't see him these last few months. Remus now...he was like...like...a landslide, or something. He just destroyed everything in his path.”

“Harry,” Ginny said gently, her eyes carrying a flicker of guilt, Harry assumed for not having visited earlier, “I know Remus made a lot of bad decisions, but—” another howl broke the silence, and Ginny's eyes went wide. In the heat of the moment, Harry had completely forgotten about Greyback.

“Harry, what was that?” Ginny asked, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper.

“Greyback,” Harry muttered flatly, no longer having the energy to even feel the fear that was simmering below the surface of his mind.

“Why is he here?” Ginny asked as she reached for Harry, took his hand, and gave it a small squeeze. Harry returned the gesture weakly.

“Because of these,” Harry lifted his chin and brushed the fingers of his free hand over the marks on his throat. “Greyback claims that I belong with his—his pack since he marked me.”

“And have you tried to get rid of him, or have you just hid in here, pretending that he's not there?” Ginny asked with an arched brow, and Harry immediately felt an embarrassed flush begin to creep up his neck.

“Okay Harry, that's enough,” she said firmly. Ginny stood up and dragged Harry with her, then started to pull him towards the front hall.

“What're you doing?” Harry demanded in a panic and dug in his heels, but Ginny ignored him and continued to drag him towards the door.

“The Harry Potter I knew would never run and hide,” she said in a firm voice, “the Harry Potter I knew would never act how you are acting.” Her voice, beyond firm, sounded almost hurt or betrayed. “That's enough, Harry, we all know you're scared—hell, you'd be stupid to not be—but it's time to actually deal with your problems, instead of hiding away like this.”

Ginny pushed him out the door the moment they reached it, and she followed after him while she flicked her wand and muttered to herself as she went. Harry recognized the charmwork at once, given that she was one of the few people (aside from Ron and Hermione) still keyed into the warding of Grimmauld Place. Harry swallowed thickly as he watched her lift some of the enchantments, just enough that Greyback would be able to see and hear them—but not get to them.

On shaking limbs Harry stepped down into the front garden with Ginny at his side, and the moment Greyback saw them he tried to move forward, but was impended by the wards in place. He growled threateningly, then slowly transformed back into a man. He lifted a hand as they approached, and a pair of jeans, boots, and a jacket zoomed out of nowhere and towards the alpha wolf. Harry stared, and he wondered if he was witnessing simple wandless magic, or the mythic werewolf magic that he'd heard of here and there over the last few years. By the time Harry and Ginny stopped roughly two feet from him he was fully dressed, and he immediately leered at Harry.

“Finally come out of hiding, Potter?” He sneered, and Harry glared at him.

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, and quickly moved on to more pressing matters. “What have you done to me?”

“Your mate—” Greyback paused and snorted derisively at the title, “—was too weak to do what needed to be done, and I stepped in. That is the short version of events. Would you care to hear the story again with more detail?”

“I needed to be turned? To what purpose?” Harry asked, while he tried to keep his voice steady. He had heard this a few times over the last few months, and he still found it difficult to believe. “I never wanted this—any of this. Remus just jumped to conclusions that I—”

“—What you wanted or didn't want makes no difference,” Greyback interrupted,.“your magic made that decision for you months ago. Months, Potter. Your fate was sealed when your magic partially turned you. One cannot be left in a state of partial turning indefinitely, as I told your mate at least a dozen times over.”

“Why not?” Harry demanded his mind still stuck somewhere between utter disbelief and fear, “I mean, if it's such a big deal, how come I don't feel any different? I've had this partial turning thing for a good six months now, and aside from some very vivid dreams, nothing much has happened.”

“The dreams are how it begins,” Greyback replied, his tone dropping from frustrated to grave so suddenly that Harry felt a twist of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. “Over time, those dreams bleed into your waking mind. They become hallucinations. You will no longer know what is real and what is an illusion. I have seen partially turned wolves tear apart their loved ones with their bare hands, lose control of their magic and decimate the world around them...you're fucking lucky that you've lasted this long with no serious side effects.”

Harry exchanged a look with Ginny. Was Greyback serious? Even after everything, Harry had a hard time believing that Remus would knowingly put him in such danger. Harry was drawn from his musings when Greyback took a step forward, but was forced back by protective warding in place. He bared his teeth in a growl, but his intimidation tactics weren't enough to scare Harry.

“Why do you even care?” Harry asked, “you...I mean, you fought with Voldemort, you were there when Dumbledore—” Harry cut himself off with a hiss. “I mean, why do you give a shit whether I come to your pack, or implode, or whatever?”

Harry waited for a response, but instead of getting one, Greyback cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowed as though Harry had suddenly began to speak a foreign language.

“Were you born this thick, or is it an inherited trait?” Greyback asked, and Harry stared. When he did not offer up an answer, Greyback pressed forward. “You are one of us. Whether you like it or not, whether your so called mate stays with you or abandons you is of little consequence to me. You are one of us. You are of my line, and I am your alpha.” Greyback crossed his thick arms, as though his statement clarified matters, though Harry felt more perplexed than ever.

“How come he can do that?” Ginny asked suddenly, and Harry saw her falter momentarily when Greyback's keen eyes flicked to her, but she pressed forward as though she was unaffected by it. “I mean, when all of this first started, he practically killed me to get to Harry, and now he can leave him for weeks at a time? The books said—” Ginny's question was cut off with a derisive snort from Greyback.

“I swear, your Ministry gets more wrong than it does right,” he growled with a quick shake of his head, and much to the surprise of Harry and Ginny, Greyback began to explain. “Following the settlement of the bond, the werewolf can essentially do as they like with their human,” he explained. “If the werewolf is particularly vindictive, they can block the bond, thus kill their mate slowly.”

Fleetingly, Harry wondered just how many werewolves like that Greyback actually knew, or if he was just saying it to unnerve him. Before he could ask however, Greyback pressed on. “The human needs their werewolf, but the werewolf does not need their human. To his credit, Remus seemed to have no idea what he'd done to you, Potter, and when we told him what blocking the bond was doing to you, it was a long time before he actually believed it.”

“But you're his alpha,” Ginny said, clearly struggling to maintain an air of confidence as she spoke to the werewolf, but a frustrated sputter escaped her nonetheless. “Couldn't you just make him come home to Harry?”

“I am not in the business of making my pack members do anything involving their personal lives. If Remus wants to leave Potter to suffer a slow death, that is his prerogative. I told him what would happen, and he didn't listen. I have spent too much energy already trying to convince that foolish werewolf to stop being a bloody coward and return to you. Now, it is out of my hands. You will be turned, and whether you two make up or not makes no difference to me. Either way, you are still pack and you will come with me.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” Harry spat, and took a step back.

“You will,” Greyback said in a low voice that was closer to a purr than a growl. Harry shivered, but stood strong. He refused to show Greyback just how scared he actually was. “One way or another, you will. Whether it's now, or on the next moon when I sink my teeth into you, you will come to us.”

“No way,” Harry growled stubbornly, but his response was met with a chuckle from the werewolf. The sound of it deeply unsettled him.

“One month Potter,” he said simply, then with one last leering smirk he jerked his wrist, and his clothing vanished. Ginny turned away at this, but Harry kept watching him as he transformed back into a wolf and ran off.

“C'mon Harry,” Ginny said softly in the silence that followed Greyback's departure, and she wrapped an arm around his middle as she led him back inside.

Ginny forced him down onto the sofa, and pressed a tumbler of firewhisky into his hand. He took a healthy swig of the stuff as Ginny sat at his side quietly.

“How did this happen Ginny?” He asked softly, his voice rough. He felt weak and dizzy, and tried to dispel it by shaking his head a few times, but the sensation refused to abate. “I've lost everything. Thanks to Remus—”

“—Remus didn't do this to you, you prat,” Ginny interrupted tersely, “haven't you been listening? Your magic did. Hermione went over all of it with me. Your magic clashed with Remus's werewolf bonding magic, and it coped the only way it could—by partially turning you. You couldn't have prevented this any more than Remus could have. It's no one's fault, it just happened.” Ginny paused, and shifted to rest a hand over Harry's, and her voice dropped to a gentler tone. “I know it's an awful situation Harry, I'm not trying to belittle your pain. I know you've always wanted to be an Auror, and now that's gone. But that doesn't mean that you have to stop helping people. There are a dozen other things you could do with your talents.”

“Oh yeah? Name one,” Harry grumbled, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“You could be an emissary between the werewolf packs and the Ministry,” she said at once, “you could set up a home for orphaned werewolf children who can't join a pack, you could join the Office for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, you could even go teach at Hogwarts once the Defence Against the Dark Arts position opens up. You were a phenomenal teacher at those DA meetings and you know it. Your life doesn't end because you have to stop being an Auror.”

“Sure feels like it,” he muttered as he leant back against the sofa's destroyed upholstery. “I just wanted—”

“—I know Harry,” Ginny interrupted, and Harry turned to her to offer up an angry retort, but the gentle, sympathetic look in her eyes stopped him short. “Really, I do. But apart from making yourself miserable, what is this moping and destroying your house really accomplishing?”

Harry didn't answer her straightaway, but turned away from her pleading, anguished expression and stared sullenly at the glowing embers in his fireplace. No, it accomplished nothing; he knew that. Harry didn't look at her, because he wasn't quite ready to admit that she was right just yet. He felt her arm wrap around his shoulders to pull him into another hug, and she pressed a kiss to his temple before she stood up.

“Let yourself grieve for what you've lost,” Ginny said gently while she made her way towards Harry's fireplace, “but don't let it consume you. Your life isn't over. It's just...a new stage.”

~*~

After four days of doing very little other than stare meditatively into his fire grate, Harry finally allowed Kreacher to clean up the mess he'd made of the sitting room. He headed upstairs for the first time since everything had happened, intent on trying to put himself back together—at least somewhat.

Harry showered and changed his clothes, then traipsed to his study to write his letter of resignation to the Auror Office. There was no point in going back now, it had been weeks since he'd actually been in the office, and Harry figured that a letter would be enough. Harry sat at his desk, pulled out some clean parchment, but cursed when he couldn't find any quills. He headed back to his bedroom to fetch one, but when he'd crossed the threshold, he froze two feet from the bed. Harry realized quite suddenly that the room still smelt strongly of Remus, and he shivered.

Harry felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, and he hissed a curse. He pressed the tips of his thumb and forefinger against his tear ducts, but it did little to quell the swell of misery that he now felt beginning to fester in the pit of his stomach.

Despite his best efforts, he still deeply cared for Remus. Harry knew that it would take more strength of will to be shot of him how he'd like, especially when a part of him still longed to never let him go.

Harry abandoned his intent of writing the letter that he really, really didn't want to write, and shuffled over to the bed in a daze. He sat down heavily and picked up Remus's pillow, then buried his face in it, inhaling deeply.

Memory overlapped memory of all the good things he'd shared with Remus, but it didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it made the loss and betrayal he'd suffered at the older man's hands even more painful.

I'm so tired of being miserable all the time, Harry thought as he sat there, I'm so tired of always feeling so weak. Why did it have to happen this way?

Harry lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He fell asleep with his face buried in the pillow, and prayed that tomorrow would be a better day.

~*~

After a fortnight of putting off writing the letter, Harry was awoken one morning by a Ministry owl tapping at his window. It bore the letter that Harry had been expecting, but the fact that he'd known it was coming made its contents no easier to swallow.

Dear Mr Potter,

Weasley informed me in confidence about what happened. I can pursue this if you wish, we have grounds to bring Greyback in, though there is no guarantee that the charges will hold; given that he did not technically break the terms of his conditional release.

As to your unfortunate circumstances, my hands are tied. As you know, for the security and safety of the greater wizarding population, it is illegal for a werewolf to be an Auror.

I thought it would be best that you not come in. You have been marked, and most wizards will be able to recognize the marks for what they are. We will try to keep this quiet for as long as possible, and I have put out a cover story to the department that you are simply too ill to return to work.

I truly am sorry Potter, you were a fine Auror.
Senior Auror M. Sahir

Harry stared down at the letter and the small box of personal effects from his desk that had accompanied it. Harry crushed the parchment in his hand and pitched it into the bin, but could not find any rage at the system, at Greyback for marking him, or at Remus. After nearly a fortnight alone, save for the occasional visit from Ginny, he felt entirely numb.

The knowledge that he was to be turned in just two weeks' time hadn't completely sunk in yet. Instead of savouring what little time he had left as a human, Harry had locked himself away, too distraught over his circumstances to even bother changing out of his pyjamas, or showering, or doing anything else. It was only thanks to Kreacher that he ate at all, and even then the food had to forced upon him with the threat of telling his friends if he didn't. Not keen for another 'intervention' of any kind, Harry ate grudgingly, but everything tasted like ash in his mouth.

Harry wandered down to the main level with his dressing gown drawn over his pyjamas and sunk down onto the sofa. His peaceful mourning of the loss of the career he'd dreamed of from the age of fourteen was quickly dashed when a sudden voice broke the stillness of the house.

“For Pete's sake Potter,” the voice sneered, and Harry whirled around to see Draco Malfoy stepping out of his fireplace. He siphoned the ash off his robes with a few quick flicks of his wand, then refocused his glare on his rival. “Moping again? What the bloody hell happened to the idiotic Gryffindor who beat the Dark Lord? Because I haven't seen hide nor hair of him in months. All I've found is this whiny little boy playing the abandoned wife routine...again.”

“What are you doing here Malfoy?” Harry asked without any venom. He felt simply too exhausted to bother being annoyed at the blond prat for barging into his home.

“I received a flurry of owls from Granger as well as Ginny insisting that I come over here and talk with you,” he explained with the same sneer of irritation in his voice, as though he'd rather be anywhere but in Harry's sitting room. “Something about me not caring about hurting your precious, delicate, little feelings and being rather straightforward with my impeccable advice,” Malfoy said, preening as he spoke, to which Harry rolled his eyes. “That, and they both threatened to hex me if I didn't.”

“You give me advice. Lovely. I'm touched. Piss off,” Harry grumbled, and crossed his arms as he glared at Malfoy, who simply snorted at the demand.

“No. Suck it up Potty,” Malfoy replied at once, “I hate you. I hate coming over here every bloody time you have a crisis and are too busy wallowing in self-pity to actually do anything about it. I wish you had friends who didn't care so damn much so I would stop getting pulled in to these ridiculous little dramas of yours, and yet here I am. Again.”

“Well good for you,” Harry mumbled, while he dropped his gaze to stare sullenly at the repaired coffee table, “there's nothing you or anyone else can do. Just leave me alone.”

“Do you really have such a low opinion of werewolves, of your bleeding husband that becoming one is so awful?” Malfoy demanded, and the sneering, accusing statement caused Harry's gaze to snap back up in surprise. “You've spent the last two years steeped in werewolf culture, and suddenly you're losing your head over it? I never took you for prejudiced, Potter. That's my line.”

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line, but he could do little about the warm flush that crept up his neck at Malfoy's husband comment. He dropped his gaze back to the table. Maybe if he just ignored Malfoy, he'd go away.

Malfoy muttered something under his breath, which was clearly a spell of some kind. Harry knew this, because not three seconds later he felt some sort of invisible force smack him in the forehead and force his gaze up to face the glaring blond prat.

“Listen to me your arse,” Malfoy growled with irritation, “I don't have all fucking day. Some of us have lives. You're being turned in a fortnight. You have no choice in the matter, so suck it up and deal with it. We're all tired of your pitiful poor me routine. Good day.”

Without another word, Malfoy spun on his heel, stalked over to the fire grate, and was gone in a flash of green flame.

Harry glared at his empty fireplace, still a little dizzy from Malfoy's abrupt entrance and exit. His sudden appearance had completely distracted Harry from his sacking, and as he looked back down at his box of belongings on the table he let out a soft groan, and raked a hand through his greasy hair. The worst part of it all was the prat was right. Harry had no idea when he'd gotten so wise, though perhaps spending so much time in the presence of a mad Dark Lord had humbled him—or, more likely, he'd learnt it from Ginny.

The thought of Ginny brought a faint smile to his face. She had been the only person who'd bothered to come and try and talk him out of his depression, save for the abysmal first attempt by Ron and Hermione. He knew he had some damage control to do with his friends, but first he needed to figure out what to do about Remus, in particular because the bond was breaking, and Harry could feel it.

It was subtle, and not something he would have noticed had he not been looking for it, like hairline cracks in a windscreen, and it was only a matter of time before it shattered.

When it did, Harry would be free.

Now that he'd had a chance to calm down, Harry was left to wonder: Did he really want to be free of Remus? After everything, did Harry still love him?

Harry trudged upstairs, stripping off his clothing as he went, his head in the clouds. He left a trail of soiled garments from the stairs to the bathroom, and as he turned on the water as hot as he could stand it and stepped under the spray, the answer came to him easily.

Yes.

He still loved Remus. Harry loved Remus more than he ever thought he could, and that made things all the more difficult. The hot shower spray obscured Harry's tears, and he stood stock-still under the hot water, willing it to wash away not just a fortnight worth of dirt and grime, but all his ill will he'd festered over the last weeks and months towards the man—the werewolf. What he would be all too soon. A shiver ran through him despite the heat, and he reached for his soap.

Harry still loved Remus, this was true, but he wished fervently that he didn't. He scrubbed his skin almost raw, wishing desperately for the soap to take away his feelings for the man, and not just the grime that clung to his skin.

He spent over an hour in the shower, and after Harry had spelled himself dry, he headed to the bedroom to find some fresh clothes.

It was when he was tugging a jumper over his T-shirt that Harry heard the most peculiar, unexpected sound.

A soft knocking on his front door.

Someone wanted to come in, and Harry was fairly certain that he knew exactly who it was.
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck