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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18458 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 15 – Broken

Stunned silence filled the interrogation room.

Harry stood, his mouth hanging open while he took a single step towards the window. Hermione arched her neck, a slow, predatory smile replacing the smirk as she locked eyes with Harry. His breath hitched and he jumped back a little, at the same moment he saw Remus lurch forward, clearly planning to go to him, but Harry held up a hand and the older man froze in mid-step.

“I'm okay Remus,” Harry said softly, his eyes darting from Remus to Hermione and back again so quickly that he began to feel dizzy. Shoulders slumping dejectedly, Remus backed up and sat down on one of the available chairs. Harry drew his wand, uncertain if he would need it, but he had no idea what to expect from Hermione in this state, and he figured that he was better safe than sorry.

“Who are you?” Caldwell said evenly, her voice hard and betraying none of the fear Harry had seen in her eyes mere moments before.

“I'm Hermione Granger,” Hermione said, her voice high and innocent, though at this point it fooled no one.

“Who. Are. You?” Caldwell enunciated each word, her voice quivering a little as she raised her wand. Ron was staring at his girlfriend, looking fearful.

“Hermione Jean Granger,” she said again with the same innocent tone, “age twenty-two. Gryffindor, attended Hogwa—”

“—I am speaking to the being invading Miss Granger's body. Who are you? Believe me when I say you do not want me to refer you to my colleague, she would be all to happy to rip the information we want out of you.” Caldwell looked over to Alyssa Nguyen, the Mind Magic expert. She smiled knowingly, her arms crossed across her chest.

“I'd like to see you try,” Hermione sneered in a voice that was not entirely her own, the innocent act crumbling. Caldwell growled with frustration while Harry pressed his palm flat against the window; he'd never seen her lose control like this, and it was more than a little alarming.

“I demand to know who you are,” Caldwell growled, staring Hermione down, while she grinned toothily, but it was not a nice expression. It made Harry feel strangely cold inside.

“I am but a foot soldier,” Hermione finally said, pride evident in her tone as she spoke, seemingly abandoning her reluctance to talk as she boasted. Hermione whipped her head around to face the the window, and her eyes locked with Harry's. She smirked again when Harry took a small, nervous step back.

“Tell me who you are!” Caldwell snarled, quickly losing her patience with Hermione's non-answers. She ignored Caldwell completely and let out a shrill cackle the sound making Harry tense.

“I know you're here Potter, why not face me?” She giggled, “didn't you enjoy your little incarceration? It was for your own good, of course.” The sarcastic amusement in her voice made Harry feel sick, and he shivered as he fought the urge to bolt.

“Leave Harry alone!” Harry was a little surprised to see that it was Ron who had spoken, up from his chair and feet apart almost in a fighting stance, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You've done enough damage,” he said, but Hermione ignored him completely.

“Come out, come out Potter!” She cried in a sing-song voice, “come out and play! I didn't manage to drive you to madness in that little cell, but I promise you, you'll be sharing a ward with Longbottom's parents soon enough,” she sneered, gasping sharply a moment later as Caldwell's patience snapped, and her elbow came down to strike Hermione across the cheekbone with a sharp crack. Her head whipped to the side, and she turned back to look at Caldwell, a bruise blossoming on her cheek, but her expression had not changed, and it was almost as though she couldn't feel it.

Watching Hermione, Harry felt sick. He moved forward and stopped directly in front of the window, his fingers curled against the glass, and he trembled as memories of the war flooded his mind in a way that they hadn't in years. The madness he saw in her not unlike Bellatrix Lestrange, and it took all of Harry's strength to keep from falling apart on the spot. Ron did not seem to be faring any better, staring at Hermione with a look of absolute horror on his face. Even from his distance, Harry could see that he was close to tears.

“You won't be going anywhere near Potter, not again,” Caldwell growled. She nodded to Alyssa, and she stepped forward, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. “Miss Nguyen, if you would be so kind.”

“With pleasure,” she traded places with Caldwell, who stepped back to stand next to the Healer August Scott, who had his wand at the ready.

“Legilimens!” Alyssa wasted no time in casting the spell, and at once Hermione head snapped back and stared blankly at the ceiling. Alyssa's eyes were squinted, the muscles in her wand arm tense and rigid, and after a long moment of silence, a droplet of blood slipped from her left nostril and trickled over her lips and down to her jaw. Before anyone had a chance to see if she was all right, she let out a cry as she was jerked backward and thrown into the wall directly behind her by an unseen force.

Caldwell and August rushed to Alyssa's side, and she stood on unsteady legs, wiping the blood from her face with her sleeve. “It's okay,” she said shakily to the Auror and the Healer, “I'm all right,” she said as Harry looked on. He seriously doubted her sentiment as she was very pale, with a greenish tinge to her skin. She stared at Hermione fearfully, who was laughing wildly.

“You have no idea how easy it was to slip into this body,” Hermione said with a leer as she calmed down from her laughing fit, “so many good intentions ready to be...twisted.” She chuckled, her red-rimmed eyes wide and mad.

“What have you done with Hermione? What happened to her?” Ron demanded as he backed into the interrogation room's wall, his expression alight with fear.

“She's in here, somewhere,” Hermione said as she turned and smirked at the redhead, “I can access the surface consciousness easily enough, and even you believed it.”

“Shut up,” Ron snapped, pressing his back into the wall, “just shut up. You're not Hermione, you can't be,” his voice shook as he spoke. Harry winced as he looked on, no longer sick with fear, but with empathetic anguish for Ron.

“Oh, but I am,” she purred, grinning wildly at Ron, who looked as though he might be sick. “I am Hermione, completely. I just encouraged her. Pushed her. She has so many ideas, so much love for her friends. Such things are so very easy to manipulate, if you know how.”

“Why did you attack Granger, why not both of them?” Caldwell spoke from across the room, supporting Alyssa while August had his wand pointed at the blue-haired young woman, murmuring rapidly under his breath. To the question, Hermione rolled her eyes.

“We tried with Weasley, but simpleminded fools like him have nothing to offer us,” Ron glared at her, looking rather hurt. He didn't say a word, and Harry recognized the look on his face—it was very similar to how he'd looked when he had faced the locket Horcrux.

“All inferiority complexes and such devotion to his woman and his friends,” Hermione said, her voice laced with disgust. “A weakling hiding behind greater men...or women, in this case. Sickening loyalty we can't use, Granger has passion, good intentions, and powerful magic. That we could use.” Ron stared at her as though he'd been slapped, and Caldwell stepped forward. Alyssa hung back, supported by August while she tried to regain her footing.

“Who do you work for? How would an insane Harry Potter help your cause?”

“We couldn't very well kill The Chosen One, it would create too much media attention, someone was bound to notice.” Hermione said scornfully, her eyes once more shifting to the window, and Harry clenched his hands into fists, refusing to back away out of fear. “We just needed him out of the way.”

“Why?”

“With him indisposed, we could focus on breaking the wards to that decrepit house of his. The werewolf isn't in tune with the warding, not how Potter is. He would never see us coming.”

“Red Moon,” Harry breathed, Caldwell parroting him at almost the same moment.

“Red Moon, I should have known. You were after Lupin all along.”

“The werewolf was free game, the werewolf that belonged to Harry Potter. We all wanted to be the one to claim his head,” Hermione laughed, a mad, wide smile stretching across her face.

More than just sickened by her words, Harry felt a surge of protectiveness rush through him. He looked away from the chaos of the interrogation room, and focused instead on Remus. Throughout the entire exchange, Remus had sat quietly in one of the available chairs, his head bowed forward as he stared intently at his knees. His hands were clasped tightly together, and every few seconds Harry could see his body tremble, as though he was struggling with the urge to go to Harry. It didn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to guess that Remus could probably sense the distress that was coursing through him.

Harry's heart ached at the sight of him, but his body refused to move. How dare she—he—it treat Remus like some sort of game animal! Shivering with rage and anguish, he forced himself to look back into the interrogation room, his emotions towards Remus still far too mixed up for him to make a clear decision about what he wanted to do one way or the other. Focusing on his possessed friend somehow seemed easier.

“That werewolf has a name,” Caldwell snapped angrily, “we are not in the business of treating sentient creatures as second-class citizens. Remus Lupin deserves as much respect as any other wizard on the street.” Hermione snorted derisively to the statement.

“Werewolves are animals. Beasts without conscience. They spread their disease indiscriminately. They must be culled.”

“Spoken in true Red Moon fashion,” Caldwell said, her voice heavy with disgust. “What have you done to Hermione Granger? Have you possessed her?”

“What do I have to gain from telling you that?” She asked sweetly, cocking her head to the side. “We have Granger, she is ours now. That is all you need to know.”

“Tell us and I'll be gentle when I free Granger of you,” Alyssa rasped, back on unsteady feet as she walked forward to stand at Caldwell's side.

“You can barely stand, whore,” Hermione sneered, a wild, mad grin plastered across her face. “You could not access my mind when you used Legilimency on Granger, and you will not expel me now. You haven't the strength.”

“I have strength enough for this,” Alyssa spaced her feet apart, lifted her wand and brought it down in a great, sweeping arc. “Ejicĕro!”

Hermione screamed.

Her head rolled on her shoulders, her body convulsed, and her eyes rolled up, showing nothing but bloodshot white. It all happened in a matter of seconds, then the vague form of a human—Harry could not tell if it was a man or a woman—made of a thick white fog burst from Hermione, slammed into the wall behind her and disappeared. It left nothing but a wet stain upon the wood in its wake.

In the dead silence that followed, Alyssa fell to her knees, her face shining with a thin layer of sweat. At the same moment, Hermione let out a tiny sob.

“Just you in there, Granger?” Caldwell crouched down in front of her so that they were at eye-level, and Hermione nodded a little, hiccoughing between small cries, tears once more streaking her cheeks. She was very white, and she looked positively distraught. Ron took a small step forward, the look on his face hopeful.

“We'll have to verify that, you realize,” she Caldwell continued, and Hermione nodded again, but she seemed too distressed to speak.

Caldwell wasted no time and drew a tiny vial from the pocket of her robe, containing a clear liquid that Harry recognized at once as Veritaserum. She unstoppered it, the cap doubling as a contraption that looked not unlike an eyedropper. Hermione obediently stuck out her tongue, and Caldwell squeezed three drops onto it.

Hermione drew back in her tongue and swallowed, a slight tremor running through her while she pursed her lips, as though she'd swallowed a lemon. Instantaneously, her eyes slid out of focus, and Harry could easily see that the potion had done its work. He pressed his palm flat against the window waiting with bated breath to see if Hermione was okay. He was still badly shaken by everything that happened, but he couldn't stop himself from worrying about her—she was still his friend. Caldwell stood up straight and looked down at Hermione while she slipped the potion back into her robes.

“What is your name?” Caldwell said, in a calm, steady tone of voice.

“Hermione Jean Granger,” Hermione said tonelessly.

“What is your age?”

“Twenty-two.”

“What was your Hogwarts house?”

“Gryffindor.”

“And what was your favourite school subject?”

“Arithmancy.” Caldwell looked up to Ron, who nodded once to confirm her answers.

“Has the invading consciousness been expelled in full?”

“Yes.”

Caldwell nodded to Alyssa, who stepped forward and flicked her wand at Hermione, causing her head to jerk back again. Within moments she returned to her normal self, and Alyssa offered Caldwell a short nod, confirming Hermione's statement. Caldwell nodded in return, while Ron deflated with relief. She refocused her attention on Hermione, studying her for a long moment before she began her round of questioning.

“What can you tell me of your possession?”

“It was Red Moon,” Hermione said softly, but clearly. “I do not know the name of the person in question, it did not feel like a traditional ghost possession. A shadow fell over my mind, and it encouraged me to do things—awful things.

“I was afraid for Harry,” Hermione continued, “he suffered terribly at the hands of someone he trusted, and I just wanted him safe. A voice whispered to me that he would be safe if I could keep him from running away. I remember Ron saying that it wasn't fair to keep Harry locked up like that, but it just seemed so...right.” A single tear escaped Hermione's eye and trickled down her cheek as she spoke, though her voice remained monotonous.

“Why was Red Moon so keen on getting to Remus Lupin and pushing Potter to a mental break?” Caldwell asked, her expression unreadable.

“It was meant as a side job, outside their main directive. They wanted Harry out of the picture, and they did not see Remus as a person. To them he's an animal, and they had no other desire beyond wanting to kill him just to say that they did it. They know that Harry's mind is strong, and he might not break, killing Remus would prove to be an adequate distraction if they failed.”

“So to sum up, Potter was getting too close, and they wanted him out of the way.”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “they did not have the nerve to kill him, they felt that doing such a thing would draw too much media attention. They felt that pushing him to madness would be enough, or grief, whichever they managed to achieve first.”

“Why did they possess you, and not Weasley as well?” Caldwell asked, her voice hard and professional. Even from the distance which Harry stood, he could see the disgust and horror in her eyes. He took several steps back and sat down heavily in one of the available chairs. It was only then that he realized that he was trembling. The implication that he could have lost Remus had it not been for his spark of inspiration when he called on Kreacher was horrifying, and it made the bile rise in his throat. Part of Harry longed to lunge at the older man and never let him go, while another, stronger part of him still balked at the idea. He shook himself out of his thoughts and tried to focus on Hermione's questioning.

“They tried to get Ron too,” Hermione said, in answer to Caldwell's question, “but this possession that they tried to cast on us was in many ways like an adapted Imperius Curse. It amplified our normal reactions tenfold. Ron just wanted to protect Harry. I was infuriated by what happened, I was determined to fix it, I needed to find some loophole to get Harry out of this...bond. My reactions to Harry's attack came from a place of rage, Ron's came from a place of love and loyalty. Red Moon holds the same level of respect for things like Love and Friendship that Voldemort did.” Caldwell and the others flinched at the use of the name, but Hermione did not react to it. Harry looked on miserably, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus fidgeting, clearly still trying to resist the urge to go to Harry and attempt to comfort him. He was grateful that Remus seemed to have a handle on the temptation, he felt too emotionally exhausted to deal with a panic attack on top of everything else.

“Do you know what this curse was that they cast on you?”

“No. It was something of their own invention.” Caldwell looked on at Hermione, a calculating look that told Harry she was going through everything in her mind, to see if she'd forgotten anything.

“How did you know that Potter was here? We all saw you tear cheek towards the observation window.”

“I don't know. I couldn't see him, but I just...felt him. Similar to intuition, I just knew that he was there, and my only thought was to get him away from Remus.”

“I see,” Caldwell said, and paused, her eyes roving over Hermione, studying her for several long moments before she relaxed a little.

“Very well,” she said at last, and drew her wand. Caldwell tapped Hermione's wrists to release her bonds, then pulled the antidote from her pocket and offered it to her. The moment the truth serum was no longer in effect Hermione's expression shifted from a blank daze to abject horror. She let out another sob, and buried her face in her hands. Ron rushed to her at once and she threw her arms around him, positively howling into his shoulder.

Harry stood on trembling limbs. He felt queasy, and couldn't decide how he felt about his friends or about Red Moon's latest scheme to try and ruin his life. He was shaken, his ability to trust that his friends were actually his friends had been badly splintered, and he was even less certain about how he felt about things where Remus was concerned.

Harry felt completely overwhelmed. Despite the fact that he had been shown absolute proof that the imprisonment hadn't been Hermione's fault, he was unable to completely shake the sense of betrayal off. He could still remember her venomous tone, her words, that tiny room. The idea of facing either of them at the moment felt like more than he could handle. Harry barely noticed that he had begun to hyperventilate.

Remus seemed to sense what Harry was going to do roughly three seconds before he did it, standing up and giving Harry a small nod.

“Go,” he said, “I'll speak to your supervisor and I'll be back later.”

Without a word, Harry tore from the room.

~*~

Not ten minutes later Harry found himself sprawled on his bed, changed back into his muggle clothes as he stared at the ceiling with a half-empty teacup on his nightstand.

So much was going on in his head, and Harry felt like he could no longer deal with any of it. His friends had betrayed his trust...but not really. He couldn't exactly blame them for the possession, Hermione in particular. It would be like blaming Ginny for the whole Chamber of Secrets madness back in his second year. The knowledge did little to quell the anxiety Harry felt at the thought of seeing either of them any time soon, however.

At the same time, Remus had utterly destroyed Harry's trust in him...but not really. With the bond not fully settled, his control over his actions around the full moon were tenuous, at best. Harry felt as though he should have known better, but Remus couldn't have expected him to do more than he was actually ready for, could he? Clearly some part of his mind did, or none of this would've happened, Harry thought miserably, while he reached up and grabbed a pillow and threw it over his head with a frustrated huff, burying his fingertips in the soft down as he clutched at it tightly. Of course, Harry thought, none of it would've happened to begin with if I wasn't such a fucking sentimental git and just got rid of the damn thing.

Harry shivered, his throat growing tight, and he struggled to calm himself before he fell apart. He hated how utterly lost and alone he felt. He was just so tired of being miserable.

I just want things to go back to how they were, I just want to pretend none of this ever happened. Harry felt the pillowcase's fabric grow slightly damp, and he was glad that no one was around to see that he was crying. He took several slow breaths in an effort to calm himself; a faint smell invaded his senses and he realized at once what he held—Remus's pillow.

Harry removed it from his face and stared at it in wonder. Was it pure coincidence that he'd grabbed that one? Harry wasn't so sure. He threw the pillow to the side and returned his gaze to the ceiling, frowning. I still care for him, Harry thought, and he sniffled sharply and rubbed at his eyes. He was never a crier, and he was sure that the air in the room was simply too dry—or something. That had to be it. It definitely wasn't that he had grown weak after everything that had happened. He wasn't weak.

I still care for him, the thought repeated itself in his head as he began to calm down, but he scares me too. Harry shivered as he remembered the scant few times he'd seen Remus lose control. It scared him more than he'd ever want to admit. It was sometimes so easy to forget that Remus wasn't human—he was a werewolf. He had something primal in him, and it seemed to rear its head when it was least expected.

Harry heard the distant flare of the Floo, and Harry knew that it had to be Remus returning home.

“Harry?” Harry had been aware of the werewolf's return on such a vaguely conscious level that when Remus's voice filled the dead silence, much closer than he had expected, Harry almost jumped out of his skin.

He sat up with a sharp gasp, his eyes finding the older man at once, standing in the open doorway while he watched him with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered after a few minutes of awkward silence. He made a grab for Remus's pillow again, and hugged it against his chest. “I was a million miles away, thinking.”

“It's my fault,” Remus said, and Harry didn't answer. He wasn't sure if Remus meant the apology to be for startling him, or for everything else. “Erm, may I come in?”

Harry lifted his gaze, and it locked with Remus's. After everything that had happened, Harry felt utterly drained, both physically and emotionally.

“No,” Harry said. Remus deflated a little at his negation, but Harry pressed on before Remus could misinterpret it. “I just...I need some time to think, Remus. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, and I need to be alone right now.”

“You don't need to explain yourself,” Remus replied with a small smile, “I'll be downstairs if you need anything.” Remus moved as though to leave, but paused and turned back to him.

“Your supervisor asked me to tell you that Ron and Hermione have both been suspended. They acknowledge that it wasn't their fault, but it doesn't erase what happened. She also insists on you taking a Medical Leave from work. She gave me the impression that it wasn't negotiable.” He offered Harry a small smile, turned, and left him alone.

Harry watched him go, frowning slightly. He listened to Remus's soft footfalls on the stairs, and the moment they tapered off into silence, Harry fell heavily into the mattress, bouncing a little as he landed.

The look Remus had given him almost broke Harry's heart, and he felt momentarily overwhelmed with guilt. Harry buried his face in the pillow again, and tried to shut off his brain for a little while.

Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke sometime later with a tray of food balanced carefully on his night table, and his invisibility cloak draped over the door of his wardrobe. It was well past midnight according to his watch, but given that Harry had eaten precious little over the course of the day, what with all the excitement, he was suddenly ravenous.

Harry picked up the bowl on the tray and drained half of the sweet puréed soup in one, and looked toward the open door of his bedroom. Even from here, he could hear the soft sounds of Remus fast asleep in the other room. Folding his legs under him while he ate, Harry suspected that the food before him was prepared by Remus, not Kreacher—it was just too good.

He cares for me, Harry thought, shocked at how much the realization surprised him. He had known, of course, but somehow in that moment it occurred to him that while he knew Remus cared for him, desired him even, beyond that, Harry didn't know what that meant exactly. Did Remus actually love him, like the information he'd read on the bond said that he would? It was still a strange concept to wrap his head around.

He's trying to make this easier for me, Harry thought, his fingers ghosting across the rim of the bowl. This is hard for him, but he's still doing his best to give me the space I need. If he's trying, maybe I should too.

Decision made, Harry moved the tray to his lap and began to eat.

A/N: Ejicĕro is pronounced eh-yi-seh-roh.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon