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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 5768 -:- 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
A/N: This chapter contains my first attempt at anything at length involving Hagrid. I hope I did all right, I fiddled with it a ton to get it as close to authentic Hagridspeak as I could.

Warning: This chapter contains werewolf violence and gore. Nothing like the torture scene in book one, but enough that it might make a couple people queasy.
Chapter 15 – Blood Moon

Harry hated how the more he tried to savour the time that he had left as a human, the more quickly it seemed to slip away.

Ten days turned into seven, then five, and at two days before the full moon, Harry had begun to go off his food. All of his friends alternating in spending time with him, while they too tried to savour the time Harry had left as a human, but it never seemed to be enough.

At the same time, his dreams—both the ones he'd been having for months, and his recent erotic dreams involving Remus—had morphed into nightmares filled with wolves, blood, and pain. Harry woke from them in a cold sweat, his mind haunted by their howls with a scream caught in his throat.

As the full moon approached, the dreams became so intense that Harry was terrified of going to sleep. How could he, only to be subject to the phantom pain of what he would experience first-hand in less than a week? It was only with a healthy dose of Dreamless Sleep potion every night did Harry manage to get any sleep at all, while he ignored the warnings of the potion's addictive nature. He'd take the addiction—anything to not have those dreams again.

In the passing days, Harry did not see Remus again, and he hated how much he missed his presence. The few times he'd ventured outside Harry was awash with a scent that he recognized, but could not place. Something in his gut told him that it was Remus, but if he was hanging around, why wasn't he trying to talk to Harry, like he had before?

Every time this happened, Harry forced his confusion to the back of his mind and refused to dwell on it. I won't waste my time thinking on him anymore, Harry thought fiercely, he doesn't love me, not really. Someone who loves me never would've done this to me.

The day before the full moon dawned cool and bright, and Harry rose early to begin his last full day as a human. He had a full itinerary planned, and for once, Harry was looking forward to what lay ahead. He ate a quick breakfast, showered, and dressed, then jumped into the Floo as he cried, “Hogwarts!”

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall greeted him with a nod as he tumbled out of her fireplace and into the circular Headmaster's office.

“Professor,” he greeted as he stood and brushed off the soot.

“When you've finished with your visit, the password to the office is, Panthera Tigris Tigris,” she said without looking up from her paperwork.

“Thanks Miss,” he said with a smile, and at last she glanced up to return it. He did not miss the faint look of sympathy in her gaze, and for one moment he wondered if she knew about what was going to happen to him tomorrow night—though he rather hoped that she didn't.

Harry shook off the thought as he hopped down the spiral staircase two at a time, and felt awash with nostalgia as he passed the stone gargoyle and made his way into the passageways of Hogwarts.

Memory after memory assaulted his senses as he walked and pointedly ignored the gaping students that slowed to have a longer look at him. The first years looked much smaller than he ever remembered being, as did the seventh years, as a matter of fact. Had he really been that short and scrawny? He shook his head and adjusted the scarf around his neck as he offered a faint smile to the professors that passed him by—Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Trelawney...though he was quick to slip away from the latter before she had a chance to make another prediction about his impending doom.

Harry stepped out of the castle and onto the grounds, at last politely shaking off the last of the straggler students who seemed to be channelling Colin Creevey as they trailed after him and tried to strike up a conversation. He headed towards a familiar wooden cabin on the edge of the forest, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered his first visit to Hagrid's cabin in his first year, and all the shenanigans he'd gotten up to since. It seemed strange to him how he now actually missed the less painful encounters he'd had over the years with dragons, trolls, Acromantula, and Slytherin's basilisk.

Fang's booming barks sounded out as he approached, and they pulled him from his memories. Harry stopped at the front door, and knocked once, while Fang's continued barks nearly drowned out Hagrid's voice as he lumbered towards the door.

“Abou' time! I thought yeh fergot where I lived!” Hagrid cried, opening the door wide to let Harry in, then let go of the boarhound's massive collar, and he made a mad dash for Harry, who jumped up at once to lick at his ears.

“Hi Hagrid,” Harry said with a slightly forced smile. “Sorry I haven't been by—things have been a bit mad.”

“Ar, things usually are for yeh, aren' they?” he asked rhetorically while Harry snorted and nodded, finally pushing Fang off when he began to nose at his scarf. “Tea? I got summat stronger if yeh like—from what I hear yeh might need it.”

At Hagrid's words Harry tensed, his hand still on Fang, who had been trying to jump back up on him as Harry followed Hagrid over to his scrubbed wooden table.

“What have you heard?” Harry asked nervously while he climbed onto one of the available chairs.

“That yeh an' Professor Lupin have been spending a lot o' time tergether,” Hagrid began, his bushy beard twitching into a warm smile when Harry flushed a deep scarlet, “an' I think if yeh'd take off that scarf o' yers, there'd be summat there that'd make a lot o' people very nervous.”

Hagrid poured a generous measure of some sort of amber liquid into two bucket-sized mugs, and slid one across to Harry, who closed his shaking hands around the ceramic without looking up.

“Who told you?” Harry finally asked as he looked up at his oldest friend with a terrified stare. He didn't bother trying to hide his fear—Hagrid had seen him at his best and worst, and Harry was certain that there was nothing that he could say or do that would make Hagrid think any less of him.

“No one needed ter tell me,” Hagrid said simply before taking a swig of his drink, “when I heard Professor Lupin an' yeh bonded, I knew summat like this was bound ter happen. Yeh're a powerful wizard Harry—always have been. It don' mean yeh lose yer humanity by being turned inter a werewolf, yeh'll still be Harry. Yeh'll always be Harry.”

Harry didn't know what to say to that, and instead sipped the drink he'd been given. It took a great deal of effort to keep a straight face as the stuff—which tasted like how he imagined Moonshine would—burned its way down his throat, but he couldn't do very much about his watering eyes.

“All righ' there Harry?” Hagrid asked with a chuckle and a grin.

“I think my œsophagus just melted,” Harry rasped, and coughed a little while Hagrid chuckled again. “What is this stuff, Hagrid?”

“Me home brew. I don' usually share me stores with people, they find it a little strong—” Hagrid said while Harry stared. A little? “—but I thought yeh might be able ter use it.”

“I'm not gonna go blind, am I?” Harry asked with a faint grin, and Hagrid chuckled again.

“Nah. I wouldn' give yeh summat that strong,” he said reassuringly, though his phrasing did make Harry wonder if Hagrid really did have something that strong, or if he was being figurative. “But Harry,” Hagrid's tone shifted to serious, “yeh don' need ter worry. Yer life won' end just because yer gonna be turned. Yeh can still live a full life—jus' look at Professor Lupin!”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a faint smile. He wouldn't call Remus an ideal example of a werewolf living a full and happy life, but he knew Hagrid was just trying to cheer him up, and he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. He wasn't keen to discuss his relationship problems or Remus with Hagrid, and he quickly switched topics. “So, what've you got for your Magical Creatures lessons these days?”

They eased into comfortable conversation, and Harry switched to tea to save his throat from any further punishment. He politely declined Hagrid's offer of rock cakes, but accepted the treacle tarts that he swore came from the Hogwarts kitchens. The familiarity of visiting with Hagrid brought with it a wave of nostalgia, and like with the walk over, he could clearly remember visiting Hagrid that first time—back when he'd been too polite to refuse Hagrid's cooking.

At the end of the visit, Harry felt a painful pull at his heart; he didn't want to leave. To leave meant he needed to turn back to his decimated life—to fear, to loneliness. He didn't want to go back to that; he would have been content to stay chatting with Hagrid for the rest of his life, if he could.

“Yer gonna be fine Harry,” Hagrid said confidently, clapping him on the shoulder gently, though it was still enough to make Harry's knees buckle. “Don' let anyone make yeh think yer less than y'are jus' because yer not completely human anymore. S'not important.”

“Thanks Hagrid,” Harry said with a weak smile, though he didn't completely feel it. Tomorrow night, everything was going to change, and Harry could do nothing to stop it. He had completely blown past blind terror, and found himself stuck in a state of numbness, uncertain what he was feeling or if indeed he could feel anything at all.

As he walked back to the castle, up the spiral staircase, and into Professor McGonagall's Floo connection, Harry began to wonder if anything would ever go right in his life. His life had been one miserable event after another, the blessed reprieves from the loss and grief always too short for Harry's liking.

The green flame of the Floo enveloped him, and he began to seriously doubt that anything ever would.

Harry's next stop was Diagon Alley, and he smiled weakly when he spotted Ron, Hermione, and Ginny(thankfully without Malfoy in tow) outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, waiting for him.

“Hi Harry,” Hermione said, standing from the table they'd been sitting at and hugged him, followed by Ginny, and Ron clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Hey guys,” he said weakly, smiling at each of them in turn, and fumbled with the scarf around his neck to make sure the claim marks were adequately covered. The action was met with their fixed grins dissolving into individual looks of worry, concern, and sympathy.

It was a little cold out for ice cream, but that didn't stop them from each ordering enormous sundaes, piled high with hot fudge, whipped cream, and chopped nuts. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Harry picking at the treat rather than eat it, and it was Hermione who broke finally broke the tense silence.

“Erm, how was Hagrid's, Harry?” she asked, and Harry smiled at her weakly.

“It was fine. I think he permanently destroyed my throat with some of his home-brewed alcohol, but other than that it was the same. Normal,” Harry said, dropping his gaze from his friends and to the sundae before him. He'd wanted so much to just enjoy his last day, but it was difficult to do so when he knew what was coming.

“Well at least you didn't go blind...er,” Ron said, and Harry snorted as he looked back up.

“Thanks ever so, Ron,” Harry replied sarcastically, and his words were met with a grin. “Where's Malfoy today?” Harry asked, shifting his focus to Ginny. “Didn't feel like coming out for ice cream with us?” To this, Ginny's gaze darkened, and Ron began howling with laughter.

“Ron thought it'd be funny to transfigure Draco's legs into strawberry jam. He's still at St Mungo's,” Ginny replied stiffly as she crossed her arms, while Harry joined in with Ron's laughs.

“It's not funny, you two!” Hermione chimed in, a shrill edge to her voice, “Malfoy could've been seriously hurt.”

“Oh he's fine, Hermione,” Ron said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he began to calm down. “He's just being a drama queen.”

Ginny looked beyond irritated, and she crossed her arms as she glared at the pair of them. Harry grinned.

“Don't worry, Ginny, I'll...preserve my remarks for the next time I see him.”

Ginny did not hesitate to reach across the smack him for that one.

Like with Hagrid, they fell into comfortable conversation with relative ease, while Harry did his level best to push his panic surrounding his imminent turning to the back of his mind. This was made rather difficult by Hermione's varied attempts to get him to talk about it, and each time she was cut off by Ron or Ginny. He managed a weak smile of thanks to whichever redhead it was who silenced her, and they forced the conversation back to something normal—Ron and Hermione's wedding plans, Ginny's Quidditch career, and nostalgic memories of Hogwarts, wherein they steered clear from the losses they'd endured in their later years.

As the sun began to dip on the horizon, Harry didn't want to leave. It had been a long time since he just socialized with his friends, and not met with them for some other purpose. However, the other three began to talk of getting home, and Harry reluctantly stood and joined them as they made the trip down the street to The Leaky Cauldron, and they each took their turns taking the Floo home.

Harry fell from the hearth a little more gracefully than his usual tumble, and he smiled as he stood up and cleaned off his clothes with a few quick flicks of his wand. Maybe this turning will mean I'll be less accident prone... he thought, but the intended humour in the words came out flat, and as he remembered what was to come in roughly twenty-four hours, he felt a cold chill run through him.

Harry made it through a silent dinner, and an evening in front of the fire with his well-worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, and as he slipped into bed that night and caught sight of the nearly-full moon, his fear peaked again as he remembered what was coming, and his breath hitched as he broke down. Harry hugged a pillow to his chest as he wept openly. Never in his life had he felt so alone.

~*~

Harry woke the following morning feeling distinctly ill, and after emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet, he went through the rest of the day in a queasy haze. It felt as though his brain had been replaced with cotton, and a dizzying sensation accompanied the nausea, which made him feel even worse than he already did.

He feverishly looked through his books as well as Hermione's novel of notes she'd written for him at the beginning of all this, but he could find nothing that might explain his symptoms. He was reluctant to contact Ron, Hermione, or Ginny about it; what if they came running over here too close to sunset and got caught in the crossfire between him and Greyback? If anything happened to them he would never forgive himself, and thus Harry went through the day nursing cup after cup of herbal tea, and hoped that maybe it was just nerves, and totally unrelated to the werewolf magic he'd been subjected to.

Harry spent most of the morning and afternoon curled up on the sofa, laying down with his head propped up on the cushions, and silently watched the progression of the sun in the sky, time slowly inching towards the end of his humanity—for good. Harry felt terribly lonely, laying there all by himself, but given that it was a Monday, all his friends were back at work, and as far as Harry was concerned, they'd sacrificed enough of their free time to his ongoing drama as it was. He could deal with this on his own—just as he'd dealt with the Dursleys for ten years, and every summer thereafter.

As evening came on, Harry's head cleared and he began to feel something like himself again. At dinner he was too nervous to eat and abandoned the rich beef stew and fresh bread Kreacher had made for him, and wandered back to the sitting room to watch the darkening sky.

As he sat there, Harry watched the moon rise, and he could feel the pull—that compulsion to go out and meet Lady Moon as she rose. His skin felt hot, clammy almost, and he almost completely forgot his fear in the overwhelming desire to leave the house.

“No,” he muttered to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut, “if I just stay in here Greyback can't turn me into a werewolf's chew toy. I just—I—” Harry's eyes flicked back open, and he let out a low moan of longing as he stared up at the swell of the moon. He could see his faint reflection in the window, and he was mildly startled by what he saw there: his black hair was untidy as always, his complexion was chalky-white in his near-blinding terror—but he couldn't remember ever seeing that ring of gold around his pupil before.

His legs began to move of their own accord, he walked shakily towards the back door. Certain he'd never see the place again, Harry bid Grimmauld Place a silent goodbye, and at last, he stepped outside.

Under the light of the full moon, Harry felt warm, as though he was bathing under a midsummer sun. For a brief moment, he felt relaxed, at peace, and his mind began to drift a little as he walked. He chose a direction at random, and Harry meandered down the street and towards the park that had altered his life so irrevocably one month earlier, only vaguely aware that he was heading in that direction at all.

Full dark had set in by the time Harry had woven through the playground equipment, and he stopped near the small copse of trees. The warmth he felt earlier had changed, and now he felt almost uncomfortably hot. He shed his light jacket and draped it over one of the low hanging tree branches, and in that same instant he heard a soft rustle in the vegetation from just behind him.

Harry froze, and with an overwhelming feeling of dread, he slowly turned his head to look behind him.

In the near-total darkness, he could see the faint pinpricks of a pair of eyes—fierce blue eyes. Harry's breath caught as Greyback growled at him; the soft noise broke his last tendrils of courage that Harry had been clinging to, and he bolted.

Greyback reacted instantly, taking off in hot pursuit, and Harry could all but feel the ground tremble with each of the creature's heavy footfalls as he gave chase. Harry was careful to watch where he was going in the dark—he refused to give in to Greyback without a fight. Harry zigzagged at random, taking sharp turns that he knew Greyback's large, hulking form could not mimic nearly as quickly, and tried to ignore how his gasping breaths had begun to burn in his chest. He couldn't give up—he wouldn't.

Drops of water began to dot Harry's arms and shoulders, and his trainers skidded dangerously in the wet grass as it began to rain. Harry's breath hitched as he wobbled, nearly losing his balance, but his moment of hesitation was his one fatal mistake, and he let out a short scream as Greyback leapt forward and bowled Harry over, easily pinning him beneath his huge, bear-like form. Harry lifted an arm to protect his face and tensed, bracing himself for pain, but was surprised when none came, and instead he felt Greyback lurch away from him.

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he caught sight of Moony, who had used the element of surprise to knock Greyback away from Harry. Even after everything, Harry thought with a sad smile, you still came for me.

Both wolves were focused solely on each other, and Harry used their moment of distraction to get back, shivering now as his rain-soaked T-shirt clung to him, and stopped just inside the shelter of the trees to watch the pair of werewolves.

Greyback snarled at Moony, and Moony matched his alpha's growl of warning as he shifted his position so that he stood directly between Harry and Greyback. Harry didn't need to be a werewolf to recognize the body language of dominant claim. Under normal circumstances it would have made him angry, but at that moment, he was deeply grateful for it.

The standoff continued. Neither werewolf was willing to look away from the other, and after what Harry could estimate was about five minutes of tense standoff, something in the pair seemed to snap, and they both lunged forward.

This was not like the last werewolf fight Harry had witnessed. That encounter had been careful calculation, testing their foe for strengths and weaknesses, and with the sole goal of protection, at least on Moony's part.

This one was an all-out brawl.

Moony and Greyback moved so fast that Harry could not pick out where Greyback ended and Moony began. It was a mess of black, grey, and tawny fur, of high yelps and snarls, and Harry cringed when he caught sight of a splatter of dark blood stain the grass.

The werewolves separated, both their chests heaving, their jowls quivering, and Moony's muzzle was stained red. They circled each other, but Moony always careful to come in between Harry and Greyback, unwilling to give the alpha any opportunity to bite his mate.

The fight began again with renewed vigour, but Harry cringed when he saw Greyback make a lunge for Moony's throat, and his large jaws closed over the grey and tawny fur. Moony whined and lifted a huge paw, scratching deep welts in Greyback's foreleg, which took the beast by surprise and he dropped the smaller wolf. Moony wasted no time and wheeled around to lunge at his alpha again.

Unfortunately, both wolves seemed to be quickly tiring out, and Harry could see how each lunge and snap of their jaws was steadily becoming sloppier. Moony lunged at Greyback and he stopped the attack easily, his jaws closing around Moony's throat as he was slammed to the ground. Greyback held him there for what Harry counted was at least a solid minute, but before Moony had stopped struggling, Greyback released him. He regarded Moony for a long moment, and his large head cocked to the side, and Harry was overwhelmed with a feeling of bewilderment as Moony's ears pricked and his tail lifted higher.

Something significant had happened between them, but Harry couldn't work out exactly what.

Harry's jaw dropped as he watched Greyback nudge Moony until he stood, then the pair of wolves proceeded to lick the wounds of the other. It was strangely intimate, and Harry felt a pang of betrayal in his chest at the sight. Why was Greyback tending to his partner, his mate like that?

Harry shook his head once. No, he thought, not your mate, not anymore.

The rain picked up, and both werewolves shook themselves vigorously, causing flecks of water and blood to go in every direction. The both rounded on Harry, and he felt his insides turn to ice.

“Moony?” Harry asked, his voice little more than a frightened squeak, just barely audible above the rush of the rainfall. “R-Remus?” he tried again, but with Greyback at his side, he advanced on Harry, his lips curled back to display sharp, red teeth. He remembered the damage those same jaws had done to the last dregs of Red Moon, and Harry thought he might be sick with fright.

“R-Remus, please...” Harry said softly, pleadingly, as he backed up very slowly while the pair advanced at the same pace. His words seemed to be lost on the werewolf, and Harry continued to step back slowly, afraid of moving too suddenly, while he tried to watch for some sort of tell that they were about to attack.

It was too late by the time Harry realized that the werewolves weren't simply following him.

They were herding him.

This became painfully, frighteningly obvious as Harry found himself backed into a thick oak, and he immediately began to hyperventilate. Harry had no idea how much of Remus was really in there without the presence of the wolfsbane potion, and he trembled both with cold and fright at he looked on to the pair of werewolves with wide eyes.

He was cornered.

It was all over.

They leapt forward, and Harry hissed in pain as the back of his head knocked against the tree's trunk from the force of the attack. He slid to the ground, dazed, and both wolves took hold of him. Moony's jaws closed over his side, while Greyback's bit down over his shoulder blade, and the alpha was the first to break the skin.

Harry screamed.

The pain was excruciating—beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life. Tears streaked his cheeks and blended in with the rainwater as Moony followed his alpha's lead and very sharp teeth sunk into Harry's flesh, and Harry cried out again as he felt his skin tear and bone snap.

It was not a gentle nip, nor was it a simple bite. Harry had expected that, but he had still not been wholly prepared for the blinding, white-hot pain that the pair had inflicted upon him. Moony's teeth sunk into Harry's fleshy abdomen like he was made of butter, and the distinct snap as Greyback bit through his collarbone was almost worse than the pain itself.

Both wolves ripped their jaws from Harry's flesh, tearing it further in the process. Harry's hands went to his abdominal wound the moment the wolves released him to keep his intestines from spilling out, and within moments his hands were shining red. He had no idea what sort of internal damage the bite had caused, but as he sunk to the ground, his body began to go numb, and he felt strangely cold as he watched with increasingly blurred vision as Moony lurched forward with bloody jaws, as though intent of biting Harry again. Greyback intervened at once, and he shouldered the other wolf sharply as he snapped at him, stopping Moony's attack short.

Moony's reaction was proof enough that their bond had broken.

To Moony's werewolf mind, Harry was now no more than another human that he could tear apart.

With Harry's blood on Moony's tongue, Harry thought dazedly that it was a miracle that Greyback was able to hold him back at all. Moony looked beyond feral in that moment—he was bloodthirsty.

Greyback looked back at Harry, broken and bleeding on the ground, then back to Moony, who was still trying to get to him. The alpha wolf lost his patience with Moony and snapped at him again with a sharp snarl, and Moony's ears flattened against his head. Greyback shunted Moony, nudging him hard with his muzzle, and herded him away from Harry. He could hear the distant wet slaps of his footfalls through the trees as he herded Moony away.

~*~

Harry had no idea how much time had passed.

As icy rain rushed over him, Harry had begun to wonder if he'd even survive the twin bites. His hand pressed over the wound on his abdomen, which was still bleeding profusely, but it was painless, which Harry found deeply unsettling. He hadn't dared to look over at his shoulder; he was fairly certain the bone of his clavicle had pierced the skin, and Harry had no desire to see that.

A soft sound broke the monotony of the rainfall.

It was a voice, but Harry couldn't make out who it was. It was high, feminine, and it was closely followed by a second voice, this one distinctly male.

They drew closer, and Harry realized in an instant whom it was. Of course it would be Ron and Hermione who came to check in on him. Instead of feeling relief at the sound of their voices, a faint tendril of panic set in. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he knew that them being here was bad. Very bad. At the same time however, Harry couldn't remember why.

“Harry, Harry! Can you hear me?” Hermione's voice became clearer, and Harry heard her let out a small scream, and he know that she'd found him. He couldn't move enough to look towards her, but it didn't matter as she rushed forward, and suddenly her bushy brown hair and horrified face was all he could see.

He smiled weakly at her in an attempt to reassure her that he wasn't dead yet, and she moved a hand to his forehead. “Oh Harry...” she said softly, her voice cracking as her eyes filled with tears. “Ron, he's over here! Help me!”

“Bloody hell!” Ron's voice chimed in as he rushed forward. “Two bites...Hermione?”

“I don't know, we need to worry about that later. Come on, we need to get him inside. I left my potions bag back at Grimmauld Place.”

“Hermione, he should really go to St. Mungo's...” Ron began, but trailed off.

“No way, the press would have a field day if it gets out that Harry Potter was turned. I think that I have everything that we need back at the house, I just want to get some Blood Replenishing Potion into him, he's as white as a sheet...”

Soft footsteps.

No, Harry thought as he looked up at his two best friends with wide, horrified eyes. Run, you have to run...

They did not seem to catch his warning expression, nor the soft approach of Greyback returning to where he'd left Harry broken and bleeding.

“All right, I'll get him,” Ron said, “just lead the way and keep an eye out for...well, you know.” His voice shook, and Harry felt a pair of arms gently lift him off the ground. His destroyed shoulder protested to the sudden movement, and Harry let out a soft yelp of pain.

“Careful, Ron!” Hermione cried shrilly, her voice cutting through the silence unpleasantly.

“Shit, sorry, Harry,” Ron said, his voice shaking a little, and he adjusted his grip to take some of the pressure off the broken bone.

At the same moment, Harry heard three sounds in quick succession: A snarl—almost a roar—Hermione's high, frightened scream, and a high, keening yelp of pain.

“Run Ron!” Hermione cried, “take him and run! No, no, I'm all right, just please, run!”

Whatever happened next, Harry was uncertain.

Peaceful black of unconsciousness enveloped him at last, and distantly Harry was certain that he could hear Hermione screaming.

To Be Continued...
A/N: Aaaaaaaand scene. Thank you guys so much for reading, and now I will be taking roughly 2 months off to write the first draft of the final instalment of this series: New Moon Rising. The hiatus is longer this time because I'm back in school, so I don't have as much time as I usually do for fanfic stuff.

If you want to keep up with how the draft if going, or if you have questions about the series(or any of my work, really), the best way to reach me is through Tumblr @jbankai89. Thank you so, so, so, so much for all of your wonderful comments, kudos, bookmarks, everything! I know I rarely respond to comments, but I do read and save every single one. So again, thank you for taking an interest in this series, and I'll see you guys soon with book 3!

Until then,
xox James

PS. I'd just like to note that if there was gonna actually be Major Character Death in this fic, I would have tagged it, because I am (generally) not an asshole. I hope that that will alleviate some of your worries about our hero ^_^
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck