Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16 – Amends

Caldwell had termed what felt like his fifteenth holiday off work in as many months as 'Medical Leave', but it felt more like a suspension. Harry was tired of being at home, tired of not working on something productive, and he just wanted Caldwell to let him go back to work. It wasn't as though he was bothered by Remus's presence; over the last week he'd gotten significantly better at not panicking when Remus got too close, but things with his so-called partner were still far from perfect.

At the same time, Ron and Hermione had been suspended, and they had each sent him a veritable flock of owls bearing apologetic notes. Harry knew that they meant well and he appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn't say that he was ready to face them, not so soon. They seemed to understand this and didn't push, just as Remus seemed to understand and didn't push, but all the understanding had begun to grate on him.

In point of fact, he hated it.

Harry was so tired of people treating him like some fragile flower that might shatter from the slightest gust of wind. He wasn't weak, but it seemed that everyone around him had forgotten that, and were happy to treat him like a child, doing what was best for him, rather than let him make those decisions for himself, like proper adult.. More and more often, Harry had begun to wish that someone would push him, make him feel something. Every time he saw an understanding smile from Remus, or a carefully worded letter from one of his friends he just wanted to scream.

By the end of the second week, Harry had done little more than sleep. He'd gone off his food, barely picking at his meals, and he had no interest in doing even the simplest of tasks, like showering or dressing. He simply couldn't be bothered, and Harry saw little point to doing either, given that he wasn't going anywhere, anyway. More than once during his 'Leave' when he'd wandered downstairs instead of spending the day in bed he'd caught Remus giving him odd looks. He looked troubled, which was nothing new, but it was different than the self-castigation that he'd grown used to seeing. Harry wasn't sure what it meant and he dismissed it, in no mood to cross-examine the werewolf's psyche.

Harry's peaceful state of nothingness was shattered one bright, Friday morning in mid-February.

“Upsy daisy Master Harry!” Kreacher cried, jerking Harry awake at once, “the werewolf is wanting you up, and Kreacher promised to gets you up!” The elf bustled into the room, throwing open the curtains and snatching Harry's blanket off him before he could get a good grip on it.

“Piss off Kreacher,” Harry said with a groan, pressing a pillow over his head while he curled up, trying to get warm without his duvet. “It's too early to get up, leave me alone.”

“It is nearly lunchtime Master, and Kreacher is needing you up,” the elf said sternly. Before Harry could protest, he was lifted off his bed and half carried, half dragged to the bathroom. Kreacher clicked his fingers and banished Harry's pyjamas, then shoved him under the hot spray of the shower. Everything happened so quickly, it only registered with Harry what was happening when he felt the shower spray come into contact with his skin, effectively rousing him with a yelp of surprise.

“All right, all right, I'm up!” He yelled, grumbling mutinously he grabbed the shampoo and made a mental note to murder Remus for putting Kreacher up to this.

The elf stayed in the bathroom on the other side of the curtain while Harry washed, and only left him alone after he offered Harry some real clothes, along with his glasses. It was clear the elf was making sure Harry did not try and sneak back to bed, which was a shame, as the whole process of washing himself had left him rather exhausted.

Harry dried himself roughly and yanked on the clothing, grumbling to himself the entire time. He shuffled downstairs while he debated whom to kill first—Remus or Kreacher.

“Good morning,” Remus said pleasantly, while Harry glared. Seemingly ignorant to Harry's burning desire to commit murder, he curled his finger in a come motion and nodded towards the kitchen. “Come with me.”

Something in Remus's tone told Harry it would be better not to argue, though he couldn't quite explain how he knew. Harry followed sullenly, and Remus stopped next to the little kitchen table. There was a plate set at Harry's usual seat filled with a roast beef sandwich, a mountain of chips, and an unopened bottle of butterbeer.

“Sit down,” Remus said, and Harry obeyed, still angry, but curiosity had begun to bubble to the surface as he slid into the offered seat, and Remus sat down across from him. He braced his elbows on the table and threaded his fingers together, resting his chin on the top of his intertwined hands.

“Eat,” Remus said, using that same no arguments tone, “and then we'll talk.”

Harry didn't feel particularly hungry, but he obeyed and ate his way through as much as he could before his stomach began to protest. He'd consumed barely half of the offered food, but he suspected that part of his lack of appetite stemmed from the way Remus was staring at him, watching him like a hawk while he ate.

“Okay,” Harry said, pushing his plate away as he looked up at Remus, and nursed his bottle of butterbeer. “What did you want to talk about?” The food had fizzled out most of Harry's anger at the man, and now Harry watched him with guarded curiosity.

“Harry, you're depressed,” Remus said, and it took Harry a great deal of effort to bite back a sarcastic remark. Of course he was depressed, no duh. Remus seemed to sense Harry's irritation at his comment, and quickly elaborated. “I mean from everything that has happened, you've fallen into a proper depression,” Remus said, guilt flitting over his face when he paused, then pushed forward, though Harry could still see that he was riddled with guilt. “Sleeping at all hours, lethargy, no appetite, your reluctance to maintain your personal hygiene... It isn't healthy, Harry.”

“What does it matter?” Harry wasn't looking at Remus, but instead focused his attention on fiddling with the neck of the bottle in his hands. “Caldwell clearly thinks I'm an invalid, she won't let me come back to the office for another week, I can't see my friends because I'm fucking terrified of something happening again and I can't—” he cut himself off with a soft growl, a light flush creeping up his neck. He'd been particularly frustrated with himself that despite his longing to fix things with Remus, he still hadn't the nerve to do anything about it.

“It matters because when these things take root it takes a very long time to come back to yourself. You can't allow it to control your life,” Harry looked up in surprise at the hard tone in which Remus spoke, and Harry did not miss this distinctive haunted look in his eyes.

“I don't want you to end up like me Harry,” he said softly, locking eyes with him. “I don't want you to become a sad old man with no sense of self-worth. You're more than that. You're better than that.”

Harry didn't know what he had expected when he'd sat down earlier, but it surely wasn't this. He stared at Remus, who looked so lost, so sad. Harry had no idea what to say, and alternated between staring at his lap, and looking at Remus, but no inspirational words of comfort came to him. He felt so indescribably sad for Remus, and it pained Harry deeply that the older man thought so little of himself.

In recent months, Harry felt as though he had learned a lot about Remus, learned things he likely never shared with anyone else. Harry's mind conjured up images of the months and years following the death of his parents, Sirius's imprisonment and Wormtail's 'death', and what it must have been like for Remus to be suddenly so alone. Harry still had people in his life, but Remus had had no one for a long time. He couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult that must have been.

Steeling himself for something he'd tried to do for nearly two weeks but didn't have the nerve to do, he set down the bottle, stood, and moved to the seat adjacent to the older man's. Remus watched him uncertainly, while Harry took a slow breath to steady himself. Strangely, he felt very little of the panic that he so often associated with closeness these days, and he wondered if that was because his intention was different than usual. He wasn't getting close just because, he was getting close to offer Remus comfort. Harry reached forward, his hand shaking a little as he slipped it into Remus's, the first contact they'd consensually shared in nearly two months.

Remus's palm felt hot against Harry's, and he looked up at Harry with a vulnerable, hopeful look in his eyes. Harry felt a thrill run through him, a sensation he'd thought had been lost. It wasn't a sexual sensation, far from it, but a sensation of completion. Like he'd been living with a half life these last months, and once more he was made whole. It was dizzying in its intensity, and it took a moment for Harry to focus long enough to form words.

“I don't want you to feel worthless, or like you aren't...” Harry's soft words trailed off, and bowed his head, unable to bring himself to say loved. “I don't like feeling like this. This...emptiness. But I don't know what you want me to do about it.”

“Do things one at a time,” Remus said gently, squeezing Harry's hand once before pulling away. Harry looked up, surprised that Remus had been the one to pull back first, the older man practically glowing with barely-controlled joy.

“Go out tomorrow,” he said gently, “go to Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Muggle London, where ever you like. Just go out and get some fresh air. I think it will help to clear your head.” Harry frowned, apprehensive to leave Remus alone, especially after the latest Red Moon debacle. Belatedly, he wondered if it was even a brilliant idea for him to go off alone. Remus seemed to sense Harry's reluctance and spoke again.

“I don't think you need to worry about Red Moon going after you, not in full view of the public, anyway. They're not suicidal enough to try anything like that, I think you'll be perfectly safe,” Remus's reassurances did little to put Harry's mind at ease, his worry more focused on leaving Remus alone than his own safety. Again, it was almost as though Remus was reading his mind, and filled in the empty air with more reassurances.

“I'll be fine. I think it would be good for you to have some time to yourself.”

Harry was quiet for a long time before he finally nodded, though privately he had no idea how wandering around somewhere other than Grimmauld Place would be in any way helpful.

~*~

The following day, Harry took the Floo to The Leaky Cauldron, dressed in his muggle winter jacket over a jumper and his favourite jeans. He offered a quick nod and smile to Tom before heading on to Diagon Alley.

Once Harry had stepped through the archway, he found that he was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't much of a shopper and there wasn't anything he particularly needed, and he was doubtful that Remus's suggestion of going out just to go out with no particular purpose would actually make him feel better.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, Harry strode forward, looking around the Alley as he went. He spotted a couple ex-classmates and even a few teachers wandering in and out of the shops, but he didn't stop to speak to anyone, and it seemed as though they did not notice him.

For lack of anything better to do, he headed down to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and the moment he stepped inside George's jovial cry sounded over the bustle of the shop.

“Harry! So good to see you!” The redhead hurried over and clapped Harry on the shoulder, hard enough that his knees buckled a little, then with a grin, he steered Harry towards the back of the shop.

“C'mon, tea,” he said firmly, “Lee can mind the shop,” he nodded to his friend, and Lee Jordan offered Harry a grin in greeting. Harry found himself in George's office before he'd managed to say more than two words to the older Weasley.

There were still two desks in the little office, but no one talked about it. Three chairs, one of which carried a layer of dust on it, though no one needed to ask why. No one dared bring it up, and Lee's own office was built into the back room, and no one dared comment on it. George left the door to the office wide open, and Harry suspected he'd heard about everything that had happened with Ron and Hermione. Harry was rather glad of this, as he didn't fancy falling into an anxiety attack in front of George.

“So,” George began, pushing a cup of tea into Harry's hands as he sat down, his jovial smile sobering up a little. “Ron tells me you've been put through the ringer over the last month or so.”

“That'd be putting it lightly,” Harry said with a snort, eyeing the cup in his hands dubiously.

“Relax, it's not hexed. I save those for when Percy comes round,” George grinned as Harry barked a laugh, and took a small sip. When his skin didn't immediately turn purple, he didn't start speaking in rhyming couplets, and/or he didn't turn into a giant blueberry, he relaxed a little, and George helped himself to a cup as well. “Ron told me the short version, but it's actually true, you're with Remus? Like, with-with?”

Harry looked up at George, rather surprised by the direct question. Given that he seemed to know at least some of what had been going on with him of late, Harry would have expected him to have more tact than that. Harry was more used to Ron's direct approach to asking personal questions than George, and as a result it caught him off-guard.

“Yeah, er, sort of, er...It's a bit complicated,” Harry winced, “think we could lay off the tough questions for a while? Have you been working on anything new?” George seemed to cotton on quickly to the fact that Harry really wasn't keen to discuss his personal life, and with a grin he pulled out a large wooden crate from the cupboard. George showed him some of the merchandise that he nearly had ready for the public, not even mentioning Harry's incarceration at Hermione's hands, for which he was grateful. He definitely wasn't ready to discuss it, and George showing off his half-finished prototype inventions he'd been working on with Lee made for a great distraction from his personal problems.

Around lunchtime there was a rush of customers and Harry left George to it, feeling lighter than he had in days. Perhaps there was some truth to Remus's suggestion after all, Harry thought as he walked past a number of newer shops that had popped up following the war, including Smith's Quality Wizardwear, Zacharias Smith's high-fashion and grossly overpriced shop. It had been doing rather well, or so Hermione told him, but he still thought the Hufflepuff was a bit of a prat.

Right next to it was Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Harry made the quick that checking out the new broom models would be a good way to pass the time. His thoughts were still clouded with his ongoing personal and professional troubles, even after the light chat he'd had with George, and he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he wasn't watching where he was going. As a result, he walked right into the witch ahead of him, nearly knocking her over.

“Oh, sorry, I—Ginny?”

It took Harry a moment for it to register, and Ginny appeared as surprised as he was. They both opened and closed their mouths several times in an effort to find the right words to say, and the silence stretched between them while disgruntled shoppers circled around the pair, grumbling audibly about 'inconsiderate young people' in passing.

“Hi Harry,” she said at last, and the tension broke as they both laughed, but it was a painfully awkward sound, and they both quickly stopped.

“Doing shopping, I guess?” He strove to keep his tone light, and Harry was glad to see that she did not appear to be distressed by his presence. He silently hoped that it wasn't her 'brave face' at work that she'd used so often in the past, but Harry thought her relaxed smile seemed genuine.

“Er—yeah. A bit. You?”

“Just out, so not really,” Harry paused, noticing how her eyes were flitting all over the shop, and at once Harry could guess what she was looking for.

“He's not here, he's at home.” Harry's stomach twisted with guilt at the words, and did not miss the brief flash of hurt that crossed Ginny's face. It had barely been four months after all—it was hardly enough time to completely get over someone.

“Oh. Um... I mean, I have some stuff I need to finish up, but maybe after we can meet and talk? As friends, of course,” Harry almost laughed at her words. Beyond the fact that doing anything would be a monumentally bad idea, Harry realized that he also had no desire to. His thoughts strayed momentarily to Remus, and he smiled at the warmth that pooled in his stomach.

“I'd like that,” Harry said, and she smiled brightly.

After agreeing on a time and place, the pair went their separate ways, and Harry forced his attention back to the Quidditch supplies he'd gone in to peruse in the first place. Ginny hurried out of the store, turning back once to offer him a short wave before she disappeared into the crowd.

The Quidditch shop didn't hold his attention for nearly as long as Harry had hoped, and he wound up wandering up and down the Alley, looking for something to occupy his time until he had to go meet up with Ginny. His thoughts strayed back to Remus as he walked, the man was still a source of great confusion for him. It was dizzying to both fear and want to be close to the same person, and after yesterday, Harry hoped that the fear was finally beginning to recede. It certainly seemed so, but Harry wasn't completely convinced of that fact.

The little café where they'd chosen to meet, Café Noisette, was situated next to Florean Forescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It was a step up from Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade, and though Harry had never been inside before, he found that it had a warm atmosphere and he did not feel nearly as out of place as he thought he would.

Little round tables made of some kind of dark wood dotted the floor space, and cozy booths lined the edges of the place. The light brown walls were far from bland, and in fact reminded Harry of café au lait. The café smelt of good coffee and some sort of sweet pastry, though Harry had no idea what kind. He felt at ease in the space, and Harry understood at once why Ginny had picked it. He went up to the counter and paid one galleon and four knuts for a plain black coffee and chocolate-dipped biscotti (the barista politely flustered at the idea of serving Harry freaking Potter, much to Harry's chagrin).

Harry picked one of the booths away from the main hustle and bustle of the café and he sipped his coffee while he waited. He bent his head forward a little after he saw the barista that had served him excitedly relaying the news of his presence to her coworkers. It wasn't hard to work out that he was the topic of their conversation, as a moment later he caught the two other workers craning their necks as they tried to get a good look at him.

Harry didn't wait very long, and lifted his hand in a half wave to ensure that Ginny saw him, and she nodded once before heading up to the counter herself.

Ginny joined him at the booth less than five minutes later, a large wrapped package under one arm and a steaming coffee in her opposite hand. She stowed her package next to her on the cushioned seat, and blew on the surface of her drink while Harry tried to come up with something to say.

“So—er—how have you been doing?” Harry winced at how lame it sounded, but while Ginny sipped her coffee she appeared unruffled by the awkward question.

“Pretty well,” she smiled, and it looked as though she meant it. “I never got to tell you, things were a little mad that day, but...I made it.” Her mouth split into a wide grin, and Harry knew at once she meant the Quidditch trial she'd been to on that fateful day.

“Ginny Weasley, playing for the Holyhead Harpies,” Harry grinned when she flushed an attractive shade of pink at his words. “That's amazing Ginny, really. You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, “it's been keeping me busy at any rate. Mum's not thrilled with Witch Weekly though, Rita wrote a rather nasty article about how I only got the position because I was seeing you...Well, sleeping with you, actually.”

“Well that's a load of rubbish,” Harry rolled his eyes, proud that he managed to keep himself from flushing at the implication. He had never been comfortable with anyone discussing his sex life, least of all the press. “Since when does Quidditch have anything to do with that?”

“No idea. I ignored it, of course. Ron (Harry cringed a little at the mention of his best mate, but Ginny didn't seem to notice) and I did have to spend a lot of time trying to convince her that the articles about you and your, er, situation were exaggerations, too. Rita's out of control right now, it's mad.”

“That must've been a fun conversation,” Harry mused, smiling when Ginny actually giggled.

“Her heart's in the right place, you know Mum. She's just worried, that's all.” Ginny paused, and eyed Harry curiously while he busied himself with his own coffee, effectively burning his tongue in his haste. He could practically see the question in the look she gave him, and he wasn't disappointed when she vocalized it.

“I did hear that you two were having some...difficulties...is everything all right?” At her words Harry paused, and stared down into the cup. It was almost like the Fates were insisting he share his troubles with one Weasley or another, given that Ginny was the second of her siblings to ask about Remus over the course of the same day. He didn't want her to worry unnecessarily, he couldn't tell her what had caused the incident, but he didn't want to lie to her, either.

“It was just before the last full moon before Christmas,” Harry began in a soft tone, unable to look up as he spoke. “Remus, he, well, something happened and he went a little crazy,” Harry shivered a little; even after two months, it was difficult to discuss in detail.

“Crazy?” Ginny's eyes widened with fear, “Harry, he didn't—”

“—No, he didn't,” Harry said quickly, cutting her off. “He got rough with me, scared the hell out of me, and I kicked him in the jewels and took off.” He looked up, knowing full well that he was flushed red, feeling utterly pathetic that such a thing had happened to him.

“Oh Harry, and now...?” Ginny reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. He flinched, the sudden contact startling him, but he didn't pull away. After the initial shock wore off he found himself welcoming the offered comfort willingly, and he was momentarily amazed at how he was able to accept it. It was so easy to hold onto Ginny, while with Remus the action made him feel like he was about to walk across hot coals. Even after all the progress he'd made, Remus still made him nervous.

“I—I tried to go back to him a few days later but...” Harry trailed off and grimaced, and based on the way her hand tightened around his, he had a feeling that Ron had filled her in on the nightmare that followed.

“After I got out I went back home. We got all that stuff with Ron and Hermione sorted, but it's still awkward as hell,” Harry looked away as he glossed over the Ron and Hermione Incident, and was pleased that Ginny didn't push him to discuss it.

“I mean,” he continued, “it's not completely his fault, but it...it really scared me.” Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, and before he could stop it, a single tear dripped down his cheek. He yanked back his hand with a curse, and roughly wiped away the physical evidence of his own weakness. Ginny didn't wait, but stood up and circled the booth, sat next to him, and dragged Harry into a bone-crushing hug. Harry clung to her, burying his face him her shoulder as he trembled with anguish. Shame, misery, and terror overwhelmed him all at once, and his mind was too overwhelmed to even summon enough panic to react to the sudden contact. Even if he hadn't been so upset at that moment, he didn't think he'd freak out at a hug from Ginny. At least, he hoped not.

“It's okay Harry,” Ginny murmured, letting him hide his sudden surge of emotion from the café's other patrons in her embrace. He shivered in her arms, and for the first time since it had happened, Harry allowed himself to finally feel the hurt Remus had caused him.

After several minutes they parted and Ginny returned to her side of the booth, while Harry pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

“I'm sorry,” he said thickly, “I didn't mean to fall apart like that.” Much to his surprise, Ginny reached across the table and swatted his shoulder.

“Don't play the B.S. Macho act with me, Harry Potter. Contrary to what you've been led to believe, boys are allowed to cry,” she glared at him, her eyes blazing, all but daring him to contradict her. “You experienced something horrible at the hands of someone you trusted. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must've been for you. So cry, you ridiculous man. Get it out of your system, let yourself heal, and move forward.”

At the end of her lecture, Harry couldn't help but grin. No one could give him a hard time like Ginny Weasley could. He realized then with absolute certainty that while he still missed her in many ways, his heart had moved on. Harry didn't know if it was the magic of the bond at work or not, but his love for Ginny had dimmed to the same kind of love he felt for Ron and Hermione. It seemed that she shared this sentiment, and as Harry calmed down, they fell into easy, familiar conversation.

“I better get going,” Harry said after checking his watch sometime later and found that they'd been in the café for almost two hours. “I'm gonna tell Remus straight off that I ran into you, so that he doesn't pull the jealous werewolf routine, also just in case our picture ends up in one magazine or another.”

“That's probably a good idea,” Ginny said with a small laugh, this time at the mention of Remus she did not seem hurt by Harry's reference to him. “Somehow, I think a certain reporter we both know would be all too happy to turn our innocent little coffee chat into some torrid love triangle.”

“I could sneeze in your general direction and she'd use it as an excuse to turn our lives into a torrid love triangle.” Ginny threw her head back and barked a laugh, and she was still giggling as they both stood to say goodbye. They hugged, perhaps a little more tightly than was necessary, and pulled apart wearing matching smiles upon their faces.

“I'm really glad I ran into you,” Harry said, meaning it. “I really needed this so...thank you. But you're okay? Really?” He watched for some show that perhaps she was being strong for him, or some other rubbish that she pulled when things got difficult, but Ginny merely smiled and nodded her head.

“I'm okay Harry, really,” Ginny said earnestly, “I mean, I'm not jumping for joy, but I'm getting there. Seeing you like this, it was nice. I mean, nice to know we can go back to being friends without it being...y'know, too awkward.” Harry chuckled a little as she grinned, falling in step alongside her as they headed out onto the bustling street.

“I want to do this again,” Harry said as they walked, “when you feel more okay with everything.” He hoped he wasn't being too pushy, but beyond missing Ginny in a girlfriend way, he realized that he also missed her in a friends way as well.

“I do too. Seeing you like this has helped more than I thought it would, sort of, cleared the air, I guess?” Ginny said, her eyes shining with genuine, unhindered happiness. It had been a while since he'd seen her look like that, and he was glad that she could still smile, after everything he'd put her through.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Harry agreed as they walked, falling into companionable silence, nothing needing to be said. When they reached the Leaky Cauldron he bid Ginny a heartfelt goodbye, and when the fire shifted back to its usual red and orange, he took his turn stepping into the flames.

~*~

Harry tumbled out of the fire in a heap, grunting as he faceplanted spectacularly on the hearth. He sat up with a groan, tapping his glasses with his wand to mend them before wiping the soot off the lenses with the hem of his jumper. Harry looked up, and he found that he wasn't even startled when he saw Remus hovering near the entryway, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though he had no idea what to do with himself. He looked more agitated than usual, and Harry was certain that the werewolf could smell George and Ginny all over him. One look at the older man told Harry that he was likely trying to keep himself from reacting to the scent.

Harry however felt lighter than he had in days, and he was only just beginning to realize just what his afternoon chat with Ginny had actually done. He'd faced the primary source of his depression, his hurt at what had happened. Bond or no bond, he had finally addressed the proverbial elephant in the room, and while things were still far from perfect or 'fixed', he no longer felt as though his relationship with Remus was beyond repair.

Harry stood up and brushed the soot off his clothes, then stepped over to Remus. He ignored the look of surprise in Remus's eyes as he slipped his hand into the older man's and gave it a small squeeze. Like the previous day, a thrill of excitement ran through Harry at the contact, and he felt very little anxiety at Remus's touch.

“I bumped into Ginny while I was in Diagon Alley,” Harry explained, pausing when he felt Remus tense. “Honestly, it was a complete fluke, and it's the first time we've seen each other since everything happened.” As he spoke, he gently tugged the werewolf into the the sitting room.

Remus followed Harry's lead, and Harry slipped his hand out of Remus's once they'd reached the sofa, taking a seat at one end and folded his legs under him comfortably. Remus took the hint that there was only so much Harry was ready for, and sat at the opposite end. The corners of Harry's mouth twitched into a small half-smile when he noticed the hopeful glimmer in Remus's eyes.

“You were saying you bumped into Miss Weasley...then?” Harry chuckled a little at the undertones of worry in Remus's voice, which he tried to cover up with curiosity. Harry knew the jealous worry was more of a werewolf thing than anything else and encouraged further by their bond, and Harry did his best to ignore it while he began to explain.

“Yeah, we ran into each other at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and we agreed to meet up later and talk. Just talk, no matter what Rita Skeeter might publish in the near future, just so you know.” Remus chuckled softly, and Harry grinned a little. It had been a long time since he'd heard Remus laugh.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, shifting a little to bring his knees up to his chest, loosely wrapping his arms around them as he spoke, “we met up at this café and we talked. She sort of prompted me on what happened...y'know...before the full moon.” They both went silent, and Harry saw Remus tense. He pushed forward before the silence could get too awkward.

“It all came out, except for a few...er, details that would upset her. But she sort of, like, made me deal with it? I kind of fell apart on her, and she gave me a hard time about doing the brave face thing. It helped a lot more than I thought it world; made me face up to my demons, you know?”

“Which would explain your enthusiastic hand-holding,” Remus mused, smiling faintly as he looked over at Harry. Harry felt the colour rise in his cheeks under Remus's watchful eye, but couldn't manage a proper verbal response. Instead, he smiled.

~*~

After three weeks (and one full moon) away from the office, Harry was thrilled when it was finally time for him to return. He was still of the mind that making him take a Medical Leave had been wholly unnecessary, but it had given him and Remus an opportunity to re-bond, and at long last, things seemed to be actually improving between them, albeit extremely slowly.

Harry's good mood lasted only until he reached his desk, when Caldwell dropped three file folders onto it.

“What're these?” Harry asked cautiously, opening the first one and at once he felt his blood run cold.

“The latest Red Moon murders, and as an added bonus our favourite Red Moon head honcho is back in the country,” Caldwell said, a lilt of sarcasm to her voice, “he was last spotted by one of our agents in Edinburgh,” she continued, glaring down at the file folder in Harry's hands.

Harry stared at the picture attached to the file. A broad, neanderthal-like face with long red hair pulled back in a braid, dark blue eyes glaring into the camera. The photograph did not accurately show the man's size, but Harry could still remember the last time he'd faced off with Brom Taggert, a man who would make Paul Bunyan look short.

Taggert was vicious, and had disappeared last summer without a trace. He had been behind dozens of gruesome werewolf murders, the remains of his victims often little more than a red smear and a pile of viscera. It was no secret that Taggert took great pleasure in the torture of his victims, a fact made clear when they'd found one of his hideouts the previous May. It had been filled with skinned werewolves—both in human and wolf form—and over a dozen heads of scalped hair.

“These,” Caldwell said as she motioned to the two folders beneath the first, “are the latest werewolf ritual murders. We're up to ten, and assuming our guesses are correct, they only need two more before all hell breaks loose.”

“I wish you had called me back in early,” Harry muttered, opening the two other files to have a quick look at the crime scene photographs. Both showed pairs of bodies in varying stages of decay, and Harry felt his breakfast churn in his stomach unpleasantly.

“These were only discovered in the last few days,” Caldwell replied, and edge of annoyance to her words. “You needed the time away Potter, you would have been no help to anyone if you were still in a stat over what happened. As for these murders...Potter, given that your partner is a werewolf, I would like to ask you if you could see about bringing him in on the case.” Harry froze, surprised by the request, and unsettled by the fact that the words were voiced like a question, Caldwell's tone made it clear that it was an order.

“All right...may I ask why?” Harry swallowed nervously. The last thing he wanted was to bring Remus within ten feet of anything involving Red Moon.

“I'm not asking you to put your partner in unnecessary danger,” she said patiently, clearly sensing his concern “I would simply like you to ask him if there is a way for us to track the local werewolf populations, find out where they are so that we can warn them about what is going on.” Harry felt himself relax a little at her words. At least she wasn't asking him to make Remus do something dangerous. While he doubted that Remus would know such a thing, he figured that he'd best humour her, at least for the moment.

“Yeah,” Harry said, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “I can do that.”
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon