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Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 12599 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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: Thank you guys for the wonderful slew of freakouts the previous chapter caused. They all made me cackle, because at my core, I might be a little bit evil. Just a little, heh. Next update will be July 28^th.
Chapter Fourteen – When The Bough Breaks

“The rogues?” Harry asked, his heart in his throat, “they've broken in?”

Before Ulrich could answer, the screaming began.

Harry hated himself more than a little at the thrill that ran through him as he leapt from the bed and grabbed his clothes. He was halfway into his jeans when Ulrich's hand at his wrist stopped him short.

“What?” Harry asked, and frowned at the concerned, protective look that he saw in the dominant's eyes. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what Ulrich was about to say.

“Harry, you should stay here,” Ulrich said seriously, his stern tone just short of commanding, “I need to help Alpha protect the pack and I can't—”

“—I am not some fair damsel in constant need of protection,” Harry snapped, “I can take care of myself, thank you. I need to find Jade, and I need to make sure that she and her pups are all right. You have your duties, and I have mine. Go see to them.”

Ulrich looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Harry's determined expression seemed to stop him short. The screaming outside grew louder, more urgent, and that seemed to make Ulrich's decision for him.

Ulrich bowed his head a little, nodded sullenly, and they dressed in silence. When they made for the cabin's door, Ulrich stopped Harry again and kissed him once, hard, with far more passion and need than he had shown earlier.

“Be careful, don't let your guard down,” Ulrich murmured, and Harry got up on his toes to kiss him again.

“You too,” Harry replied, “be safe.”

Both men tore from the cabin, Harry heading for the bonfire, and Ulrich for their borders to see what had gone wrong.

The moment Harry had stepped outside, it became an effort to force himself onward as he was thrown harshly backward into his memories of the war.

Burning, screaming, wolfish snarls, and small explosions filled the air around him. He could hear the crackle of burning flesh, the tearing and snapping of bone as the few werewolves that could turn at will attacked without remorse, and the green grass was dotted with red.

Harry reached the bonfire in under a minute, and he saw several rogues advancing on the cluster of frightened subs huddled near to the fire. He drew his wand.

“Stupefy!” Harry cried, and to his great surprise, the werewolf that he had hit crumpled to the ground. He shook his head, and focused on what needed to be done as he cast the spell several more times before he reached Jade and the others, who all looked petrified and lost, as though they had no idea what to do.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked Jade as he grabbed one of her shoulders, keeping his gaze both on her and the others, as well as any oncoming attackers. Jade looked shaken and afraid, but unharmed, which was verified when she nodded. “Okay, good. Come on, I need to get you guys to the cabins.”

“Wait!” Jade cried as her arms tensed over the bundles in her arms, and Harry realized suddenly that she was only carrying two. “I don't have Sheng or Calliope!”

“I have Calliope,” Lucy said quickly as she stepped up to Jade's side, “Tavish has Sheng.” In an instant, Tavish bracketed her, and she sagged with relief.

“Jade,” Harry said, bringing her attention back to him. “Would you feel comfortable letting one of the other subs hold on to Xue or Cyril? I think it might be better for everyone to hold one of the children, to make them more secure...”

Jade's arms tensed around the two bundles in her arms, which was all the answer that he needed.

“Okay, that's okay,” Harry said quickly, knowing that there was no time to argue the point. “Come on...” he paused, and glanced over to one of the other subs. “Leticia?” he said, and the other sub perked up at the sound of her name as she stepped forward. “Help her, if you can.”

Harry paused, and turned his attention to the rest of the group. “Head for the Sub House,” he called to them, “run, don't look round. I'll make sure that we all get out of here safe. Now, go!”

The group did not need to be told twice, and herd-like, they closed ranks and hurried towards the cabins.

Harry circled them as best he could, his eyes wide as he looked out for potential threats. He barked orders to them when curses came flying their way, and as a whole they would duck or swerve while Harry shot his own curses back at their assailants.

A curse glanced off Harry's shoulder, burning through his shirt and it scorched the skin. He hissed in pain, but did not allow it to slow him down as he shot a slicing hex at the werewolf who had hit him. He moved to dodge it, but not quite fast enough, and the assailant howled in pain as his forearm was sliced off cleanly at the elbow.

The group had made it halfway to the cluster of cabins when a few of the subs let out a number of fearful cries, and the noise woke the babies. They let out shrill cries of the own, and it took Harry a second to figure out what had frightened them when he saw it—four werewolves, in their wolf forms, had surrounded them.

Harry acted quickly, and did not allow himself to think—just act.

“Sectumsempra! Stupefy! Impedimentia! Stupefy!”

The first werewolf collapsed with a pained howl, it thrashing and squirming from the numerous cuts that had opened along the length of its body. The second staggered, but did not fall, and the third froze, but not for more than a few seconds before it seemed to shake the jinx off, and went after the subs again. The fourth Harry had not managed to hit, and it was still advancing on the group.

Harry tried again, and two of the werewolves fell, the final one, apparently impervious to his attacks, leapt at him with an enraged snarl, and though he had missed Harry with its teeth, the sub had not been quite as lucky to avoid its claws.

Harry gritted his teeth against the pain as deep scratches were gouged into his ribs. The scratches weren't bleeding heavily, but the force that had been put behind the attack made it almost feel as though he had just barely managed to avoid his ribs being broken.

Shaking a little as he tried to ignore the deep ache, he shunted the group towards the cabins with his back to them, while he pointed his wand at the wolf again. It was a solid black, and it bared its bloodied teeth at Harry as it advanced on the subs. The sight made Harry feel sick with fear—who had this wolf bitten into to cause so much blood to cling to its teeth like that?

“Incarcerous!” Harry cried, and the wolf howled as thin ropes sprang from Harry's wand, wound around the creature's ankles, and it forced him down to the ground.

In that same instant, a curse hit Harry in the chest and knocked him off his feet, which caused all the breath to rush from his lungs.

Harry choked, and looked up to see a young woman, her dirty, tangled blonde hair pulled away from her face in a rough braid, and she was dressed in some sort of tight, moss-green singlet, black shorts made out of some sort of shiny elastic material, and well-worn leather hiking boots. There was a knife holster affixed to her large, muscled thigh, and she held a long, narrow wand in her hand. Her amber eyes flashed dangerously as she gazed at him. Even if she had not had a wand on hand, Harry felt that she looked as though she could kill him with her pinkie without much effort.

“Famous Harry Potter,” she purred in a tone of voice highly reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange. “Such an honour to meet the man who helped take down Red Moon. We owe you a great debt, it is so much easier to kill as we please without fanatical wizards hunting us down.”

Harry glared up at her, but he did not speak. He reached for his wand, which had been knocked from his hand when the curse had hit, and hissed when another curse skinned the flesh of his arm, making it burn and blister.

“Ah, ah,” she cooed, “no, no, no, you will not be touching that.”

Harry glared at her, but with this woman's entire focus trained on him, it was a small mercy that it enabled the other subs to escape to the maze of cabins at his back.

Distantly, over the yells and explosions of the dominants fighting the rest of the invading pack, Harry was quite certain that he heard a door slam. Relief flooded within him, but he did not allow it to show on his face. He still was not completely certain if her target was him or the subs, and if it was the latter, he needed to keep her busy as long as he could until he could either incapacitate her, or help came.

“Despite all that you have done, Greyback made a claim on you before any of us had a chance to contest it,” she continued, and flicked her wand at him when he tried to stand up. The curse forced him to the ground, hard, which jarred his rib injury painfully. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain, and shot her another glare. “Though, seeing you now, I suppose it must have been your mate who actually destroyed Red Moon—not you. In fact, I have to wonder why Greyback would even turn you—though he does love to collect weakling subs.”

“I'm...I'm not weak,” Harry hissed, breathing hard as he tried to reach for his wand again. He screamed as another curse hit him, and he felt his tendons in his wand hand snap.

“A weakling sub,” she retorted, “I would not have you for my pack, but more than one of my doms have all sorts of nasty things planned for you.” She flashed him a wicked grin, and Harry blanched.

“You'll have to kill me,” Harry growled, refusing to show this woman his fear, “I'll never go willingly with someone as psychotic as you.”

“Pity,” she said with a cold laugh, and let out a high whistle as she began to shed her clothes. “I'm not usually a cannibal, but devouring you, Harry Potter, will be a pleasure.”

Another pack member of hers, a smaller, but still strong-looking man ran to her side and took her clothes, weapon, and her wand.

He and Harry both looked on as her bones crunched, and she bowed forward as she forced the change. Harry's eyes widened as with a lightning-fast change reminiscent of Greyback, she turned into a large, light grey wolf.

Harry moved to snatch up his wand, but a wave of pain so intense washed over him, and his vision warped for a moment. His hands were in too much pain to properly handle a wand, and as he turned back to face her, she seemed to be laughing through her wolfish snarls.

Is this how I die? Harry wondered in a strange, fear-induced haze. His hand refused to hold on to his wand, and he could not transform at will—he had no means to defend himself. He looked around, but he could not make out familiar faces in the ensuing chaos.

Wait, what am I waiting for? Harry asked himself with a small shake of his head, and the realization hit him quite suddenly—run.

Harry jumped to his feet, spun on his heel, and bolted.

The alpha let out an enraged snarl and she gave chase. Harry knew that it was not far to the Sub House from where he was, but it had no defences, and he doubted that she would have any qualms about breaking the door down. He couldn't risk Jade or her babies—not like that.

Harry darted into the dense foliage of trees that made up the pack's territory, and he heard the distant crashing of her giving chase.

Harry could not tell how close she was, and he did not allow himself to slow down as he continued to run, his ribs and hands were aching, a stitch in his side was making it difficult to breathe, but still he did not stop. As a werewolf, he could run faster and farther than an average human, but he knew that as a sub, he still did not have the stamina to match a dominant.

As Harry ran, he looked for something that might possibly tip the odds in his favour—a river he could cross, some sort of strong-smelling herb that would mask his scent, a den to hide in—anything. Nothing jumped out at him however, and his panic began to mount again.

He broke through a small break in the trees when he saw it. Harry let out a gasping sigh of relief as he closed in on a tree with low-hanging branches, and he wasted no time as he made a run for it, then leapt for one of the thick branches that might hold his weight.

His hands closed firmly around the branch before he could think better of it, and he was blinded by pain as he recalled his injured hand. He hooked his arm and good hand around the bough to take the pressure off his injured limbs, but at the same moment, he felt sharp teeth close around one of his flailing ankles.

It was not a gentle hold, and Harry cried out as he felt the skin tear. He tried to tighten his hold on the branch, but the wolf was far stronger than he was in this form, and she yanked hard on his leg, uncaring what damage she might be doing to him in the process. Harry's forearms, palms, and at last his fingertips scraped roughly across the rough bark, and tears sprung to his eyes, both from pain and fear as he lost his weak hold on the tree completely, and he crumpled to the ground.

Harry's head hit the hardened, upturned roots of the old rowan tree that he had been grappling at mere seconds before, and he saw stars. The teeth around his ankle sank in deeper, applying more and more pressure to it, until he felt his ankle bone break.

Harry screamed.

Effectively hobbled and alone in the wood, he cursed himself for his own stupidity. Harry turned his head to gaze at his murderess. Her jaws open in a feral grin, and she was eyeing him like a felled deer. Bloody saliva dripped from her teeth, and Harry felt as though he might be sick with fright.

Haggard gasps escaped him as he tried to think clearly through the agonizing pain of his various injuries, and he watched in horror as she took several steps back, and crouched.

Knowing what was coming, and unwilling to watch his death come at him, Harry clenched his eyes shut. Heavy footfalls signalled her approach, and Harry held his breath and waited for the pain to come.

“Harry!”

A sudden voice, a very familiar voice screamed his name, the tone laced with horror, and Harry's eyes snapped open just in time to see their pack's omega throw himself in between Harry and his attacker.

Harry let out a cry of shock and fright as he watched Remus crumple like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The wolf let out an infuriated snarl as she hit the wrong target, and she bore down on the weakened dominant. She pressed her entire weight against Remus's chest, and he let out a sharp yelp as Harry watched his chest sink inward. She broke one or two of his ribs with ease, with no more effort than she had expended in breaking Harry's ankle.

Before Harry was able to properly react to this attack, the female wolf's teeth sank into Remus's throat, biting hard through the muscle that she found there, but she had most unfortunately miscalculated the strength of Remus Lupin, something, Harry knew, that was a fatal mistake.

Remus lifted his wand and whispered an incantation. From Harry's distance, he could not hear what he had said, but there was no mistaking that familiar flash of green light, nor the sound of rushing death that came for the alpha that stood over him.

She crumpled in an instant, and with some difficulty, Remus pushed the dead weight of the werewolf off of him, but he did not get up.

Harry rolled onto his stomach, which was painful, but less painful than standing would have been. He balanced awkwardly on his elbows and knees in an effort to keep the weight off his various injuries, and slowly he crawled over to the fallen man with whom Harry had once shared his life.

Remus was breathing shallowly, and he was very pale. The wounds to his throat were not as fatal as they could have been, but serious enough that they made Harry's stomach turn over, and tears pricked his eyes.

“Remus?” Harry asked weakly, his eyes wide with horror, “w-what did you do that for?”

“For you, of course,” Remus replied, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, and he cracked a small smile. He reached up a hesitant hand, and brushed a stray tear from Harry's cheek. “I—I was beginning to think that it was foolish to come here—selfish to try and wedge myself back into your life, especially after I was the cause of so much damage. Harry, I am so sorry.” He paused, and turned his head to the side to cough harshly. Harry's fear amplified when he saw Remus spit a mouthful of blood to the ground. “But...I'm glad that I came, now. I was able to stop that woman from killing you, perhaps if I had had more time, I could have paid further penance for all that I have done to you, but it is...a start.”

“You idiot,” Harry whispered weakly, and reached out to take the older man's hand with his uninjured one. In an instant, their fingers laced together, as though nothing had changed. “I'm not worth dying for, you shouldn't have done that. I—I can't watch you die.”

“Oh, Harry, you are wrong,” Remus murmured, and another choking cough erupted from his lungs. When he turned back to Harry, tears were trailing down his cheeks, and into his hair.

“For you, I would give my mind, body, soul, life...I would give everything I am, everything I have, and everything I could be to keep you safe,” Remus whispered, his tone just short of reverence as he gazed up at Harry. “I am sorry it wasn't enough for...for us. I am sorry for all the foolish, thoughtless, and harmful things I have done to you, when I thought I was acting in your best interest. Perhaps one day, you may find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Remus's eyes slid shut, his hand in Harry's slackened, and Harry bowed forward as a sob escaped him.

“You stupid, stupid man...” he choked out, “if you wanted to stop hurting me, why would you go and do something like this?” Another sob slipped past his lips, “wake up, Remus, please.”

A soft rustling of the foliage behind Harry caused his gaze to snap up, and he turned to see Ulrich and another dominant who he did not know, young but with a shock of long white hair, breaking through the thick trees.

Both dominants were covered with minor wounds, and their clothes were badly tattered and smoking where they had been hit by dark curses, and the unknown dominant was bleeding profusely from a circular bite mark on his bicep. As they took in the sight of Harry, Remus, and the dead alpha nearby, their eyes widened, though neither of them spoke.

“He jumped in the way and saved me,” Harry whispered, knowing full well that they would be able to hear him from the distance. He was grateful, because he did not know whether he would have been able to manage speaking at a normal level at the moment. “I—I was finished, and he—”

Ulrich did not say a word, but hurried to Harry's side, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Uncaring if it made him look weak, and too tired to even try to quell the flow, he allowed the floodgates to break, and he wept into Ulrich's shoulder.

Above and around him, Harry could hear a soft flurry of activity. He did not know what it meant, and was somewhat startled when Ulrich started to pull away from him.

“Harry,” he said softly, while he drew Harry's attention back to him.

“W-what?” he asked, while he moved his forearm to his cheeks and roughly rubbed at his tears.

“Remus isn't dead.”

“What?” Harry whispered, his eyes wide, and he turned back to look at Remus's still form. “But...but...he's not moving...”

“He will be soon,” the other dominant added, while he pulled off his thin T-shirt and began to tear the grey fabric into strips, then began to tightly wind them around the gaping wounds upon the Remus's throat. “I will bring him to our Healers; you should come with me, Harry, you need to be seen to.” As the dominant spoke, he very gently lifted Remus up; the way his limbs hung uselessly at his side, and the way his head lolled on his shoulders made Harry's stomach turn over uneasily. He certainly looked dead.

“Ulrich, help me?” Harry asked, and winced at how weak he sounded. “I—I can't walk.”

Ulrich did not need to be asked twice. He pulled Harry into his arms, and held him as delicately as he might a newborn baby. Harry, too exhausted both mentally and physically to offer up any of his usual protests at being carried, rested his cheek against Ulrich's chest, and looped his arms around the dominant's neck.

“He was trying to save me,” Harry mumbled as they wove through the trees.

“I know,” Ulrich replied, while his hold on Harry momentarily tensed in something close to a comforting hug.

“He...I was horrible to him for weeks and weeks, and he still saved me...why would he do that? Why would he even bother?”

“Because he cares for you, Harry,” Ulrich replied softly, “when people care for each other, they are often willing to do everything in their power to keep them safe. How many times have you risked yourself for your friends?”

“More times than I can count,” Harry replied in a soft, fatigued mumble, “Hermione always called it my saving-people thing.”

“It is that,” Ulrich said with a soft chuckle. “Remus will always care for you, I think, even when you claim to have moved on...”

“I don't claim it,” Harry interrupted, “I have moved on.” He tried to shift closer to Ulrich to prove the point, though in his current position he really didn't have anywhere to go. At the same time, Harry didn't like how part of him did not wholly believe his own words.

“Well, either way, he did that because he cares for you, and he always will.”

“He's so stupid,” Harry mumbled miserably, “a fucking idiot. If he had just...just given up on me, he wouldn't be almost dead right now.”

“No, but you would be,” Ulrich replied, “I would have never gotten to you in time, and I would have lost you. Do not insult his bravery, Harry. It is said, 'whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.' It may have been foolish to throw himself in front of an attack like that, but he did it to save you. Never forget that.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to Ulrich's words, or his tender sentiment to someone who was for all intents and purposes his rival. He relaxed into the embrace and decided to save his questions on that topic for later. He parted his lips to question Ulrich over what had happened during the battle, but bone-deep exhaustion claimed him before he could speak, and cradled in Ulrich's strong embrace, Harry fell asleep.
A/N: The quote that Ulrich recites is from The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, 1891 version(or Picture of Dorian Gray, depending on which edition you have).
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Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising