Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18455 -:- 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
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: In case anyone is confused by Harry's reactions to Remus in this chapter, I'd like to note that following the initial posting of chapter 13 on Aug. 15^Th, it was brought to my attention that Harry's reactions as an assault survivor weren't very realistic. I went back over it and adjusted it so that it would make more sense, and I reposted the following day (Aug. 16^th). You don't need to go back and reread the chapter if you think you missed this repost, as there's no major plot changes, just minor adjustments to Harry's character.
Also, my poor cat has hepatitis so I have been super busy with her, administering IV fluid, tube-feedings, antibiotics, and other fun stuff. That said, my time devoted to my fanfic stuff has been severely limited of late and I didn't have as much time as I usually do to edit. So if anyone sees any major errors, feel free to point them out to me.
Chapter 14 – Mind Games

Since arriving home, Remus continued to give Harry his space. He was plagued by nightmares, and Remus would instinctively hurry to Harry's side each time to wake him. Waking in a haze of panic, Harry would wrench himself from Remus's hold as though he'd been burned. After the third time Remus stopped waking him, and instead offered Harry Dreamless Sleep potion, which he accepted gladly.

Though Harry had asked Remus to accompany him to the interrogation, he still struggled to stand within two feet of the man without his fear bubbling to the surface. The moment he sensed Harry's fear, Remus would step back with a hasty apology.

“It's not your fault,” Harry mumbled every time this happened, and Remus would actually laugh, though it was always a hollow, bitter sound.

“Yes Harry, it is.”

It was as though the Fates seemed curious to see how much stress Harry Potter could handle before cracking up, and the next hurdle came to him in the form of January's full moon.

It was the polar opposite to the last moon Harry had experienced with Remus. The werewolf took every precaution in the days leading up to it to avoid Harry at all costs, except for mealtimes. At first, the fact that Harry hardly saw him struck him as a little odd, but when he went to investigate what Remus was up to, he did not even need to knock on the closed guest room door to figure it out—the haggard breathing was enough. Feeling suddenly queasy, he left Remus to it.

On an academic level, Harry completely understood why Remus was acting like a post-pubescent teenager. However, it was still a unsettling to see—or rather, hear—it for himself. Harry knew Remus was doing it to keep his sex drive in check until things between them improved, and while Harry appreciated it, it still made him uncomfortable.

Often, it almost felt as though Remus was watching him, waiting for him to feel at ease with physical contact again. It was stressful, and more than once Harry felt an urge to simply cry out, “I'm trying!” Remus never seemed impatient though, and Harry wondered if perhaps it was his own mind trying to rush him forward, and not his partner. Remus never pushed or showed impatience with Harry, the anger he had witnessed the previous month was completely gone, and in its place was the same placid man Harry had always known. In fact, Remus did not engage Harry in much of anything, not even conversation.

It made Harry feel incredibly lonely, made worse that he had no one to talk to about what was going on. He had entertained the idea of contacting Ginny for advice more than once, but he felt it would be cruel to talk to her about it now, so soon after their breakup. This left Harry spending many afternoons in the library on his own, picking through the volumes he knew belonged to the Black Family Library collection. Strangely, Harry couldn't bring himself to even cast Remus's books a passing glance.

That particular afternoon, Harry decided on Quidditch Through the Ages, his hand freezing on its spine as he remembered who had given him the book in the first place.

The memory of Hermione stung, and he once more felt that familiar swell of misery in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his friends. His trust betrayed on all sides, the last time he'd felt so alone was before he'd known he was a wizard—back with the Dursleys. It was a feeling he was no longer used to feeling, and he'd quite forgotten how awful that hollow ache truly was.

Harry pulled the book off its shelf and eased himself down into one of the available desk chairs. He flicked through the pages absentmindedly, none of the words sinking in, his mind invariably returning to Remus. He wished desperately that he could find a way to fix what he once had with the werewolf, but given the way things had been going, Harry had begun to doubt it.

He had only just settled in to try and read when he heard the soft creak of the warped floorboards, and he looked up to see Remus standing about ten feet away, watching him uncertainly. “Harry? Are you all right?”

It was the first words Remus had said to him in days, and Harry almost laughed at the ludicrous question. “How do you think I am, Remus?” His tone came out harsher than he had intended, and Remus winced as though he'd been struck.

“Sorry,” Harry raked his fingers through his hair and looked away from the older man to the rows upon rows of dusty shelves. “It's just been a stressful couple of weeks.” Harry snorted the moment the words had left his mouth. Stressful was a bit of an understatement.

“You don't need to apologize Harry,” Remus said softly, lowering his gaze. Harry watched him, he looking like he was going to say something, but after several minutes of false starts and stuttering, he spun on his heel and left Harry alone and confused.

Harry did not see Remus again for the rest of the day, and he watched silently as the man headed upstairs at moonrise without a word.

From his place in the sitting room, Harry could hear the pained cries of Remus's transformation. He winced and dug his nails into the arm of the sofa, his knees drawn up to his chest. The compulsion to run to him was overwhelming, but Harry kept his place. A mournful howl sounded from above, and he looked up.

The sound made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end, and he listened to the soft click-clack of Moony's claws against the wooden floorboards coupled with his high, distressed whines as the werewolf wandered through the halls, seeking Harry out.

Harry was shocked at how little the concept of Moony looking for him frightened him. After spending so much time of being terrified in his own home, the lack of fear in itself was alarming. Harry heard the werewolf progress down the hall and to the stairs.

The sound of the lupine footfalls paused momentarily, and Harry moved the half-full teacup he had been holding to the coffee table. The wolf descended the steps, and slowly the enormous, bear-like creature came into view, nose to the ground as he followed Harry's scent.

Moony paused at the entryway to the sitting room, lifting his head to look at Harry, his tail wagging lowly, nervously.

Harry had no idea what to expect when he came face to face with Moony, but unlike dealing with Remus in his human form, he felt none of the fear that he expected to feel. Buoyed by Harry's obvious lack of fear, the enormous creature loped forward slowly and butted his huge head against Harry's cheek. Moony's nose buried itself in the crook of Harry's neck, snuffling curiously, his tail lifting as he grew more bold, it continuing to wag lazily.

Content with Harry's scent, Moony licked his cheek, and Harry reached up at once to run his fingers through the thick fur with a small, crooked smile. Moony plopped down in front of Harry, mouth open in a wolfish smile, and Harry shifted forward and wrapped his arms around the werewolf's neck in a very human hug. It was the first physical contact he'd had since the incident, and he breathed in the familiar scent. For the first time in weeks, Harry felt a sensation of complete contentment wash over him, unhindered by any residual fear over what had happened.

“I wish I knew why I always feel so much more comfortable with you when you're like this,” Harry muttered into Moony's fur, pulling back to run his fingers through the grey and tawny hairs. The amber gaze bored into Harry inquisitively, his head cocked to the side slightly. In this form, Harry was still amazed that he felt none of the fear that he'd grown so accustomed to feeling whenever Remus was too near.

Harry sat with Moony for a long time, running his fingers through the werewolf's fur and not saying much of anything, his worries intensely focused on the interrogation he'd be witnessing in three days' time.

He'd witnessed a number of Death Eater interrogations and trials in the months following the war, but the fact that he'd be seeing his two best friends like that chilled Harry to the bone. He pressed his cheek into the werewolf shoulder, his fingers tangling in the fur while he stared into space and tried to picture it, but it was such an absurd concept that he found he was incapable of imagining it.

The night pressed on while Harry sat with Moony, stroking his fur continually and occasionally punctuating the silence with a few soft words or comments, though he steered away from serious topics as best he could. Harry didn't know how much human speech Remus could understand when he was in his wolf form, even with the wolfsbane potion. Either way, Moony sat next to him attentively, and nudged Harry's cheek with his nose whenever Harry began to panic at the thought of what was to come washed over him. Harry offered the wolf a small smile of reassurance, though he was sure Moony's heightened senses weren't fooled by the outward expression.

Harry's eyelids began to droop when the clock read midnight, he stifling frequent cavernous yawns as he sat there with the werewolf. Moony pressed his shoulder into Harry's side, with an insistent nudge towards the hall, the wordless hint blatantly obvious even in Harry's half-asleep daze.

Too tired to argue, Harry got up on unsteady legs and headed upstairs with Moony on his heels. He readied himself for bed and crawled under the duvet. The last thing he saw was an enormous, furry body sitting at his side, watching over him as he dropped off to sleep.

He never heard Moony leave, but when Harry woke the next morning, he was gone.

~*~

On the cusp of February, a cold snap fell over London.

The dry chill leaked into Number Twelve and tiny flecks of snow blew past the window. Harry found himself Monday afternoon bundled up in a thick jumper—for once not a Weasley jumper—with a hot cup of tea cradled in his hands. He sat as close to the fire as he dared, the duvet from his bed wrapped around his legs like a plush nest.

“So much for magical insulation...” he grumbled, sipping the tea while he stared at the crackling logs, the dry wood popping at random intervals like miniature fireworks.

“That looks cozy,” an amused voice commented, and Harry turned to see Remus watching him from behind the sofa, his arms crossed and mouth quirked into a small smile. Despite the ease in his posture, his eyes regarded Harry uncertainly. Remus seemed to have recovered from this month's transformation, though he was still a little pale. He appeared unaffected by the temperature of the house, and the safe, conversational words helped to ease part of the anxious knot that had formed in the pit of Harry's stomach.

“How are you not freezing? It's cold as a witch's tit in here.” The comment was out of his mouth before he had a chance to think it through, and Remus barked a laugh. He circled the furniture and sat down next to Harry on the stone, though he was still careful to place a few feet between them.

“I would love to see you use that phrase in front of a pureblood,” Remus said with a small smirk, and Harry smiled a little in return. “Werewolf stamina,” he filled in a moment later, “or whatever you would like to call it. My body regulates temperature better than a human body does, so I'm rarely overly hot or cold.”

“That would explain how you can wear cardigans in August,” Harry was still smiling faintly, feeling more at ease than he had in a while. Things were getting better—slowly—but Harry still had a ways to go before he felt completely comfortable in the same room with the man, much less do anything that even remotely resembled intimacy. At the very least things were cordial, though Harry still struggled to differentiate between his actual feelings on the matter, and what the bond was compelling him to feel. Remus was deeply sorry for what he'd done, that much was obvious, but Harry was still caught by the worry that there was every chance it could happen again. The idea that it might terrified Harry more than he liked to admit and though he wanted to believe that it wouldn't, his hold on that belief was tenuous, at best.

“The interrogation is tomorrow,” Remus said in the same conversational tone of voice, though the effect his words had on Harry were instantaneous. He felt his stomach tense, and he suddenly found the stone beneath him highly fascinating. He knew they needed to discuss it, but Harry really, really didn't want to. “Have you given any thought to how you may feel, seeing them again?”

“Well, if I don't run away screaming that'll be a good start,” Harry smiled bitterly and sipped his tea, hoping the drink might settle his nerves.

“I have every faith in you,” Remus said with a small smile. Harry turned to gaze at the older man, and his eyes once again finding the angry red lines of the self-inflicted injuries from the last moon. The wounds themselves had healed, but they still looked rather painful.

“Injuries of this kind can only be healed by a werewolf's partner,” Remus said, obviously catching Harry looking. He flushed with embarrassment as Remus continued, “self-inflicted wounds of this kind are offered as penance for what I have done. In my wolf state, even with wolfsbane, it was an instinctive reaction that I could not control.”

“Do they hurt?” Harry shifted closer unconsciously, eyeing them curiously. They looked a lot like normal scars, except they were red instead of the usual white.

“They're suddenly painless,” the breathless quality of Remus's response brought Harry back to himself. He lost his nerve and moved away quickly with a panicked gasp, offering the older man an apologetic look as he resettled himself back in his nest of blankets. Harry tried to bury his sudden panic by hiding behind the mug he still held, and Remus seemed to understand it. He stood, paused as though he wanted to say something, then left Harry to his own devices.

~*~

Harry did not see Remus again until the following morning. They ate breakfast in tense silence, both men lost in their own thoughts. Harry was replaying everything that had happened over the last few weeks in his head, in the event that he needed to to relay any such information to the interrogators. Harry prodded at his porridge, his stomach tied up in knots. He wasn't sure he could go through with this.

After breakfast, Harry disappeared back to his room to change into his business-casual robes, nondescript blue-grey that would ensure to attract as little attention as possible. As an extra precaution (though he doubted it would do much good) he flattened his fringe over his scar. He knew that his face was as recognizable as his scar these days, but he hoped that the effort would enable him to slip through the crowds more or less unnoticed.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself for what was to come, Harry pulled out his father's silvery invisibility cloak from his old school trunk, which still held the Marauder's Map and his other priceless treasures. He draped it over his arm, slipped out of the room and headed back to the ground level of the house.

Harry found Remus waiting for him in the sitting room, toying with the little clay pot that usually sat on the mantle that held his stock of Floo powder. He was dressed in similarly styled robes as Harry, dark brown and slightly tattered at the hem, as though he'd had them for a long time.

“Ready to go?” Harry aimed for nonchalance, but the quiver in his voice easily betrayed how nervous he was. Remus looked up at the sound of his voice, and he smiled a little while he set the pot back in its place.

Remus was careful to step toward Harry slowly, much in the same way one might attempt to approach a frightened wild animal. He was careful to advance in a way that offered Harry a physical escape route should he need it, and Remus moved with enough care that Harry had ample time to stop him if it became too much. Striving to ignore the alarm bells going off in his head, Harry closed his free hand into a tight fist, the other tightening around the cloak.

“I am,” said Remus, “are you ready for this?” There was a hysterical lilt to Harry's laugh in response to the older man's question.

“I don't think I'd be ready if I had a hundred years to prepare. Here,” he offered the cloak to Remus, “Maybe I'm being paranoid, but the last time you were at the Ministry you were nearly killed so...humour me.”

“Good to know Alastor's constant vigilance lessons did not go to waste,” Remus mused, picking up the cloak with a nostalgic look in his eye. Harry couldn't help but smile a little; no doubt Remus was remembering his father as he looked at it.

“Ha, ha. When you put it on, we can go.” Harry waited, and Remus cast him one last look of amusement before disappearing under it.

Harry jumped a little when he felt an invisible hand close over his wrist. His vision went momentarily hazy, and at once images of the incident filled his mind. Clearly sensing Harry's distress, Remus released him quickly and pulled off the cloak. He looked just as distressed as Harry felt, and he took a large step back to enable Harry to calm himself down before they proceeded.

“Just go ahead of me Harry, I will follow,” Remus said in a soft voice, his expression apologetic. Harry's throat felt tight, and he nodded once before turning to face the Floo, eager to escape the unpleasant situation.

Harry waited in the Ministry Atrium for Remus to follow him, and when the Floo flared but no one appeared, Harry knew it had to be him. They made it down to the Auror's Offices without incident, and as they stepped into Harry and Caldwell's office, Remus removed the cloak and handed it back to Harry with a relieved sigh. Clearly, Harry wasn't the only one worried that this little trip would somehow go horribly wrong.

Inside the office, Harry found Caldwell conversing in low tones to two strangers, one in robes that indicated that he was a healer. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with dark skin and a small, pointed beard. The other Harry could not discern their profession by their robes, which were a deep plum. She was a young woman with a kind, heart-shaped face and bright blue hair. At first, he thought it was dyed, but as they approached he saw that her eyebrows and lashes were the same shade, and he was momentarily stunned by it, until Caldwell began to speak, drawing Harry out of his daze.

“Mr Lupin,” Caldwell nodded to Remus and reached forward to shake Remus's hand, “pleasure. I'm Potter's supervisor, Mary Caldwell. This is August Scott, a Mind Healer from St. Mungo's. He'll be on hand to ensure that no lasting damage has been inflicted upon Miss Granger or Mr Weasley.” The tall man nodded to each of them in turn, offering a kind smile as he shook each of their hands.

“This is Alyssa Nguyen,” Caldwell continued, motioning to the blue-haired young woman, who took her turn shaking each of their hands. “She is an accomplished Legilimens, as well as an expert in Mind Magic and Muggle Neuroscience.” Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at the latter accomplishment, and Alyssa smiled warmly at him.

“I'm a half-blood,” she said by way of explanation. “After I finished at Hogwarts I went to Cambridge University before I started my Mind Magic Mastery.” She grinned proudly, and Harry was reminded painfully of Hermione.

“Now Potter,” Caldwell said, pleasantries out of the way, “as for your friends, as I said in the letter they do show signs of magical tampering. They claim no knowledge of this however, but any mention of you was met with...strange results.”

“Strange how?” Harry tensed, his body reacting as though bracing himself for a physical blow while he waited for her answer.

“Well, Weasley was the same as I've ever seen him, but Granger...” Caldwell trailed off with a slight frown. “She went off the rails completely. Ranting and raving about you being in danger and how she absolutely needed to get you away from your partner.” Harry swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, the words bringing back bitter memories of his captivity at the hands of his friends, and he struggled for a moment to remain present.

“She was like that when...” Harry trailed off, unable to say it. Caldwell seemed to understand and gave him a short nod.

“Now, if they are unresponsive to my questioning, Miss Nguyen will use Legilimency to ascertain if they have been placed under a Memory Charm,” Harry winced a little but didn't respond. Legilimency was never a pleasant experience. “If that is the case, I am confident that Miss Nguyen can break it with no adverse effects to your friends, but should something go wrong, Mr Scott will be on hand to tend to them. If we find no Memory Charm, we will administer Veritaserum to each of them. Is this plan agreeable to you, Potter?”

“I...er, yeah. I mean, yes, it is.” Harry tried for his professional tone of voice, but in his anxious state, his assent came out rather jumbled. Caldwell regarded him with a frown.

“Potter, no one is making you do this. If you feel that you cannot handle it, no one will think less of you for it.”

“No,” Harry said at once, “thank you Caldwell, but—but I've got to do this.” The conviction in his voice was stronger this time, though he wished that he felt as confident as he sounded.

“All right then, follow me.” Caldwell had a look on her face that said she didn't entirely believe him, but offered no more protests as she led the troupe down the narrow hallway to the interrogation rooms.

Harry's heart was pounding so hard and fast he was almost certain that Remus could hear it. As they passed Ron's shared office he struggled to mask his mounting fear. Remus didn't say a word, both keeping his distance and eyeing Harry worriedly in equal measure. The now-familiar sensation of feeling as though he'd been split down the middle resurfaced, and Harry felt dizzy.

They stopped in front of a nondescript door with a large brass '1' nailed to the centre. “The observation room for the interrogations is here,” Caldwell said, her voice exuding calm in a way that told Harry that she, too, could likely sense his fear. “They will not be able to see or hear you. Potter, if for any reason you feel that it is too much, you may leave. All right?”

“Yeah, thanks Caldwell,” he offered a small smile, which she returned as she tapped the wood and the door swung open. Harry and Remus stepped inside, Harry unable to stop himself from jumping a little as the door snapped shut behind them.

Harry immediately felt as though all the air had gone from the room. He felt very hot and queasy, panic bubbling up to the surface of his mind like an erupting volcano.

The little dark room Harry now found himself in was highly reminiscent of the time he spent locked away in Hermione and Ron's guest room. Dark spots danced in his vision, and the floor felt as though it was tilting beneath his feet. Harry cradled his head in his hands, groaning as he struggled to calm down.

Harry had no idea how long he had been like that, when suddenly a warm body was pressed into his own in a close embrace. It was only then that he realized he was trembling as he clung onto the person that held him. The person was rubbing his back in slow, steady circles and murmuring softly to him, though Harry couldn't catch the words. Harry breathed in the familiar scent, and slowly, he came back to himself.

“It's all right Harry,” Remus murmured, holding him close, “no one is here to hurt you, take you away, or lock you up. You're safe.” He seemed to stumble over the last two words, and at the same moment, Harry realized what precisely was happening, and he felt himself freeze.

“Remus, let go of me.” He spoke in a rush, his voice so small and meek that he almost didn't recognize it as his own. Remus let him go at once and took several quick steps backward, which was lucky as Harry's knees immediately gave way and he lost his breakfast on the marble floor.

Remus stood to one side, still in Harry's field of vision, his body lurching as though he longed to go to his side, but seemed to think better of it.

“I'm sorry,” Harry rasped, vanishing the vomit with a quick flick of his wand, then sat down heavily on one of the available chairs that faced a large, rectangular window into the interrogation room. Never before had he felt so pitiful, so weak. He'd been viewed as a victim many times ever since entering into the wizarding world; a victim of war, a victim of losses early in his life...but never before had he felt it so strongly. He hated that he'd been reduced to this by people he'd trusted. Even so, he still couldn't bring himself to hate Remus.

“There's nothing for you to be sorry for,” Remus replied, smiling sadly. “This isn't easy for you; a lot has happened in a short amount of time, and it will take more than a handful of weeks for you to feel like yourself again.” Remus looked like he wanted to say more, but his attention had been drawn to the large window, and Harry turned to see two Magical Law Enforcement officials ushering Ron and Hermione into the little room. Harry felt his breath catch.

The pair sat down, Ron looking miserable, Hermione looking furious. Caldwell stepped in with the two Mind experts in tow, and in the same moment Hermione's gaze snapped up, her eyes finding Harry's and for a moment he swore that she could see him.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that Hermione stood up and lurched forward, tearing around the table and heading straight for the window. Startled, Harry jumped back in his chair, it lurching backward dangerously. Remus caught the back of it to keep Harry from falling flat on his back, and let go quickly. At the same time, Caldwell stopped her from going further with a Tripping Hex. Hurrying over, she hoisted Hermione up by the upper arm and steered her back to her chair.

“No, you don't understand,” she cried tearfully, struggling against the hold Caldwell had on her. “Harry can't be with him, it's not safe!”

“Shut up Granger,” Caldwell snapped while she forced her back into the chair, which proved to be much more difficult than Caldwell seemed to expect, as the moment she let go of her Hermione jolted to her feet again. This time Caldwell was ready for her and forced her back into the chair, tying her wrists to the armrests with a quick charm before Hermione had a chance to try and escape again. All the while Ron looked on quietly, his expression unreadable.

“No, no, nooo...” Hermione wailed, struggling against the bonds, tears streaking her cheeks. “You don't understand, I have to help Harry...”

“How does she know I'm back here?” Harry whispered, clutching tightly at the armrests of the chair while he watched his once-friend, half-mad in a hysterical fit.

“I don't know,” Remus said in the same soft tone of voice, sounding just as alarmed as he did.

“Silence Granger!” Caldwell barked, and Hermione's mouth snapped shut. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, while she tugged weakly at her bonds. All the while Ron stared at her like she was a stranger.

“Now,” Caldwell began, leaning over the table as she stared Hermione down. “Potter claims that you held him in your home against his will for fourteen days. What do you have to say to that?”

“I have no idea what he's talking about!” Hermione said tearfully, her broken tone of voice making Harry stomach lurch with guilt. “I—I remember him coming to us because R-Remus attacked him and I remember him staying for the full moon, but that's it, I swear!” Hermione's gaze shifted from Caldwell to where Harry was sitting, and even though he'd been reassured that they wouldn't be able to see him, he still had the strangest feeling that Hermione could.

“Please,” she sobbed, looking back to Caldwell, “you have to get Harry away from Remus, it's not safe!”

“Potter has chosen not to press charges against Mr Lupin, my hands are tied on that front. Right now I am asking you, Miss Granger, why you felt compelled to hold Harry Potter prisoner, when you two claim to be his closest friends.” Caldwell said, staring Hermione down with a cold glare. Hermione looked almost beside herself with anguish.

“I didn't, I didn't! I didn't do any of those things, I was trying to help Harry! I need to break this curse for him!” Caldwell arched a brow to Hermione's tearful explanation.

“You are talking of their bond?” She asked, and Hermione glared at her.

“Curse,” Hermione snapped, while she gave her bindings another tug. “It is a curse.”

“Fine, whatever you say Miss Granger,” Caldwell said, her tone making Harry think that this was not the first time she'd had this conversation with her. She shifted her attention to Ron, who had been sitting quietly, staring at the table while Hermione was interrogated.

“Weasley,” she began, making Ron's head snap up in alarm. “Tell me your recollection of events. Earlier you told us that you too had no knowledge of the claim Potter made to you two holding him captive.”

For a long moment, Ron didn't speak. He looked troubled, though nowhere near the intense anguish Hermione was displaying. He looked over to Hermione, and the he suddenly looked apologetic.

“No,” Ron said, shifting his gaze back to the tabletop, “I—I remember everything.” Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped, staring at Ron not with the look of betrayal Harry would have expected, but one of anger.

“A few days after the full moon, Remus came looking for Harry. I—I didn't think letting Harry go back to someone who tried—” he cut himself off, looking both regretful and angry at the same time.

“Hermione had been working on these...Portbombs, she calls them,” Ron continued, focusing intently on the table in front of him. “It's a randomized Portkey, and when you throw it at the target, the Portkey will transport them to a random location anywhere in Europe. It makes for an easy getaway, and it will take some time for the person to find you again. She used one on Remus, stunned Harry, and brought him back into our flat.”

As Ron spoke, Hermione continued to stare him down. The look made Harry think she was trying to tell him silently to shut up, though she did not say a word in defence of her actions while Ron told his tale.

“Miss Granger assaulted Mr Lupin with an untested weapon,” Caldwell summarized, to which Ron nodded meekly. “What happened when you two brought Potter back to your flat?”

“Hermione put him in our guest room, and warded the door before we went to bed that night. She left him with his wand in the hopes that that would help him trust our judgment.”

“That's a fairly weak justification, you realize.” Ron didn't look up or react at all to Caldwell's comment, and instead pressed forward with the story.

“At first, Hermione was hell-bent on finding a way to break the bond. She was scared—we both were—for Harry's safety. He's too trusting, too forgiving. We knew he'd go back to his...attacker in a heartbeat.” Harry winced at Ron's harsh words, but said nothing. He wasn't wrong, and there wouldn't've been much Harry could say in his defence, even if his best mate had been able to hear him.

“But after a while, I never saw Hermione researching anything about the bond, and she spent all her time trying to reason with Harry through the closed door of the guest room, or strengthening the wards on the door to make sure that he couldn't get out. I didn't like it, Harry was locked up by—” Ron broke off, and started again, “Harry experienced something similar when we were twelve, and I didn't think it was a great idea to keep him locked up like that for too long. Hermione disagreed.”

Harry continued to listen in rapt silence, his eyes fixed on his friend. with the telling of the tale came images into his mind of what had transpired, and a shiver ran through him. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Remus jerk forward slightly, as though he was tempted to comfort him, but at the last moment seemed to think better of it.

“And why did you not report Miss Granger, Weasley? Surely you know that by saying nothing, we can charge you with aiding and abetting?”

“She's my girlfriend, Caldwell,” Ron said, finally lifting his gaze to her, looking hurt. Still, Hermione said nothing in defence of herself or Ron. “We—Me, Hermione, and Harry have been through all sorts of mad things together. Her heart was in the right place, she just...” Ron trailed off with a small shake of his head. “I tried getting Harry out on my own, but Hermione's wards were too strong. Then we left for The Burrow for the hols, and when we came back, Harry was gone.”

“Elf broke our wards,” Hermione muttered, speaking suddenly while she looked up at Caldwell with red, puffy eyes. “I need to help Harry. We know what's best for him, Ron doesn't understand, but we do.”

“Miss Granger, I'm certain you'll find that—” Caldwell broke herself off abruptly, and stared at Hermione, a fearful glint in her eye that Harry could never recall seeing before. “Hold on, 'We'?”

Hermione smirked. A cold, uncharacteristic expression that did not befit the Hermione that Harry had always known.

“Oops.”
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon