Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18455 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N: I had a question about when I post, and the answer is every Monday and Thursday, usually between 1 and 4pm Eastern Canada time. Sometimes it's earlier, but the usual is that time frame. I believe I mentioned this in the author's notes at the beginning of the fic, but in case anyone's forgotten, there you go. :)
Chapter 18 – Alpha

Monday morning Harry felt as though he'd been torn in two.

It amazed him how he could feel two such strong, conflicting emotions simultaneously, and he was certain he would puke if he'd dared have any breakfast.

On the one hand, he was walking on air. He was overjoyed at how well the previous evening seemed to have gone, and and while over the last weeks it felt as though his and Remus's relationship was salvageable, last night had cemented it as an incontrovertible fact in his mind.

On the other hand, Harry was a step away from completely losing his head at the prospect of potentially running into Ron and Hermione, who were both due to return to work that day. He had repeatedly reminded himself that that wasn't Ron and Hermione who had done those things to him, but a possessing force, but the rational self-talk did little to convince his mind of this.

He left that morning with a reassuring hand-squeeze from Remus, and the tingling imprint that seemed to cling to his hand buoyed him as he hurried to his office, early enough the he did not run into anyone on his way in.

“Morning Potter,” Caldwell said distractedly, looking up long enough to offer him a nod in greeting, then turned back to what she was doing, tacking up a photograph of Taggert next to a map of Scotland, then marking the map with potential places he might be. Stopping Red Moon's grand plan was of the utmost importance, but Taggert's presence in the country was too dangerous a threat to ignore.

“Did you do as I'd asked?” She asked while she turned back to her desk, flipping through the stack of files distractedly as she waited for his response. She'd asked him the same thing every workday since she put forward the 'request', and Harry was relieved that he could finally get her off his back on this topic.

“Yeah, he said he can't do it,” Harry frowned, “he said that only an Alpha werewolf has that kind of ability.”

“That's too bad,” she said, straightening up and frowning. “I don't suppose you know of any, do you?”

“Off the top of my head? No, none that I can think of,” Harry said, his tone apologetic. Caldwell huffed a sigh of frustration.

“We'll have to figure out something else, then,” she looked back down to the stack of files, and tugged one from the bottom and held it out to him, “feel like doing some field work today?”

Managing a weak smile, Harry snatched up the folder.

~*~

The morning in the field was refreshing, and Harry spent his time jumping from one minor case to the next, defusing tense domestic situations, relocating pissed off magical creatures (with the help of the Control of Magical Creatures office) and generally running from one minor disaster to the next.

By the time he'd gotten back to the office he was damp, sweaty, and exhausted. He was rather keen on showering and changing his clothes before anything else, but he froze when a familiar voice floated down the hall to him.

“Please Auror Caldwell, I just want to talk to him for a minute!” Hermione's voice rent through the air like a hot knife through butter, and Harry felt his breath catch and his vision warped.

“Miss Granger for the last time, he is not here,” Caldwell's voice carried an irritated edge to it, and Harry was sure that this was not the first time Hermione had come up to pester his supervisor.

“But I need—” Hermione's explanation was quickly cut off.

“I know what you want, Miss Granger, it is not what you need, and certainly not what Potter needs. We all understand that what happened was not your doing, but Potter has enough on his plate right now without you shadowing his footsteps, begging for forgiveness. Now, get out of my office. If I see you again, I will report you to your supervisor on the grounds of harassing a Ministry employee. Am I making myself clear?”

Harry heard Hermione make a sound that could have been a sob or a shout of anger—he wasn't certain. He sunk back into the shadows as she bolted past, and in her distressed state did not even see him. Rather shaken, he headed to the Auror changing rooms for a long shower.

Harry passed the remainder of the day at his desk, filling out reports for his various morning missions, and calling Kreacher to bring him some lunch so that he did not need to leave his office and thus risk running into Ron or Hermione. At the end of the workday, he rushed to the Atrium, and had almost made it to an available Floo when he heard someone call his name.

“Harry!”

A string of Uncle Vernon's choice expletives escaped him as he skidded to a halt and turned to face Hermione, who was rushing towards him. It took a great deal of effort to keep himself from bolting. He drew his wand, knuckles white, and he stared her down, fighting between the surge of memories that seeing her invoked, and the knowledge that what had happened wasn't her fault.

“What do you want Hermione?” He asked tiredly, his feet sliding almost unconsciously into a duelling stance as he braced himself for a fight.

“I just...I wanted to talk to you, and say how sorry I am about what happened—” Harry cut her off before she could go any further.

“I know,” he said, frowning at her, “you said this all before in your letters. I know you're sorry, all right? I know. I know it wasn't you, and I don't need you to repeat yourself,” Harry took a slow breath to calm himself before he continued. “I just need some time away from you and Ron. That means you're not to go pestering my supervisor when I'm otherwise occupied,” Harry smiled inwardly when she flushed at his words. “I just—I need you to leave me alone. I'll let you know if—when I want to talk things over with you.”

Harry didn't give her the chance to respond, and rushed towards the available Floo.

Harry managed to make it out of the fire grate before he lost the battle with his stomach, and retched on the cold stone hearth. He groaned, shivering as his Auror robes clung to his skin with cold sweat, his stomach lurching violently in response to the mind-numbing fear seeing Hermione had caused. A large hand pressed gently into his lower back, and Harry knew at once that it was Remus..

He vanished the vomit and conjured a glass of water, pressing it into Harry's hands as he helped him up and walked him to the sofa.

Harry sat down heavily, wincing as he sipped the water gingerly, it burning as it slid down his abused œsophagus. He mopped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe, his breathing shaky as he fought to calm down. Remus sat at Harry's side in silence, his hand rubbing gentle circles against his lower back. Harry could feel Remus's eyes on him, watching him worriedly while Harry tried to calm his roiling stomach. Despite his best efforts to shake it, he seemed incapable of calming the bodily tremors that had come with the panic attack.

“Can I ask what happened?” Remus asked as Harry set down the half-full glass on the table. He looked up to Remus's face, brow furrowed with worry, lips parted slightly as he awaited an answer, while his hand continued to rub Harry's back.

“Hermione,” he replied, wincing at how hoarse he sounded. Harry shifted closer to Remus, faltering when he felt Remus freeze. He wasn't sure if the reaction was from his small movement, or from telling him who had sparked the violent reaction. “She didn't do anything bad exactly, she just wanted to talk but...” he trailed off and shook his head. Remus's hand moved up to Harry's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and after a moment's hesitation, Harry drew a breath and wrapped his arms around Remus's middle, pressing his cheek against the older man's shoulder.

Harry's logical mind screamed at him, but his instincts sang at the contact. He didn't know if it was right, clinging so desperately to Remus, nor did he know if it was anywhere within the realm of a healthy thing to do, given everything he'd been through of late, but at that moment, Harry didn't care. He needed to be anchored, he felt as though if Remus let him go in that moment he would be completely unable to cope with his run-in with Hermione.

Remus held onto him, his arm wrapped protectively, possessively around his shoulders. Harry did not miss the blissful sigh that escaped the werewolf, though he had no idea how to react to it. Harry could guess that Remus had been quite starved for physical closeness since the incident, and for the first time Harry had a vague idea of how difficult it must have been for him. If the reaction to Harry's hug was any indication, he must have gone through hell waiting for Harry to be okay enough to accept comfort from him again. Harry's appreciation of Remus's patience with him skyrocketed, and for a moment he closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace, and allowed the rest of the world to fall away.

Slowly, Harry's heart rate went back to normal and he shifted to sit up; Remus let Harry go at once.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said hoarsely, wincing at the rough quality of his voice. He supposed excessive puking would take its toll on his throat.

“What are you sorry for Harry?” Remus asked, his voice soft and gentle, the tone washing over Harry like a cooling salve.

“Just, launching myself at you like that,” Harry said, trying to figure out how to best explain it, “I don't even know why seeing Hermione freaked me out so much. I mean, I know that that whole...thing wasn't her, but I just can't shake this panic...”

“It will take time Harry,” Remus said gently, smiling a little when Harry scowled. “I know you're tired of hearing that, but you need to be patient with yourself. A lot of horrible things happened to you in quick succession, and it's only natural that seeing Hermione would trigger your mind to remember what she put you through.”

“But I know it wasn't her-her,” Harry replied, crossing his arms with a frown. He didn't understand why he was so petrified of her. Logically, he knew it hadn't been her who did those horrible things to him, so why did he react so badly to seeing her?

“Harry,” Remus's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Remus reaching forward, his hand faltering inches from the side of Harry's head. It fell to rest gently against the side of his throat, the callused pad of his thumb brushing lightly over Harry's pulse. “Go...go wash up. It might help you calm down. Try not to overthink it for now, but whether you believe it or not, in time, things will get better, ” he pressed a feather-light kiss to Harry's temple, and Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the contact. Desire and unease churned within him, but the kiss itself was not wholly unpleasant.

“Go shower,” Remus murmured softly, his breath tickling his skin, “unwind, do what you need to do,” he stepped back cautiously and watched Harry for one more long moment before he turned and walked away.

Harry remained frozen on the sofa for a long time, then stood and trudged upstairs, his head full of a torrent of confusing emotions.

Following his shower and changing into some more comfortable clothing Harry had to admit that he did feel a lot better. After returning to the main level, Harry found his eyes often straying to Remus when the older man seemed to be otherwise occupied.

It had been a long time since Harry was able to just watch him. Remus radiated an air of calm, and in the last twenty-four hours the man seemed to be riding on a joyous high, a small smile never far from his face. Harry felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, something akin to the quiet hope that he could properly fix things with Remus. It was a near-constant thought, and as he sat curled on the sofa, take-home work propped on his knees.

Harry was painfully aware that these things should take longer to mend. He'd met with domestic abuse victims almost as often as Ron had, and he knew of some people who took years before they were anywhere within the realm of 'okay' again. But it had been a couple of months, and already the idea of being close with Remus wasn't completely abhorrent to him.

That seemed wrong to him.

Harry bowed his head and tried to focus on his work, but already he knew that it was a lost cause. His quill hovered over the report, but for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyes were drawn to Remus.

This time however, Remus caught him looking.

“Is there something you need, Harry?” Remus arched a brow as he spoke, and Harry felt his face grow warm. The amusement in his tone told Harry that he'd likely been aware of Harry's eyes on him for a while.

“Um, no?” Harry winced at how small his voice sounded—almost childlike. “Err sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting up a little, “just thinking.”

“You don't need to apologize Harry,” Remus said, though unlike the last few times Harry recalled him saying those words to him, there was no sadness in his tone. Unless Harry was much mistaken, he was almost certain that he could hear something close to a chuckle in his voice. What was so funny to him, Harry didn't know.

They passed the evening similarly to the day before, with an amiable dinner, and sitting together with tea as a buffer between them until it was late enough to justify calling it bedtime.

Harry wandered upstairs first and slipped into his room. He changed into his pyjamas and wandered back into the hall, caught up in a haze of thoughts of his feelings towards Remus. He still did not know how much of it was the magic of the bond encouraging him and how much was genuinely him, and he was so lost in thought that he had not realized that Remus had followed him upstairs, and as a result Harry nearly ran right into him.

“Oh, damn,” Harry said with a gasp, skidding to a halt inches before running into Remus. His eyes were wide with mirrored surprise and for a moment, Harry couldn't work out the reason for thick sensation of awkwardness and the flare of instinctive negation that jumped up in his mind. After a moment, he realized what it was—Remus had been following the bond, momentarily lost himself, and had been following Harry into their room.

Silence stretched between them, Remus's hand reaching up to coil around Harry's upper arm, his eyes wide and honeyed irises almost glowing in the dim light. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to find the words, but his panic had flared up, and it effectively chased away his voice.

Remus took several deep breaths, and he let go of Harry. The grip had not been tight or restrictive, and that itself had not distressed him, but the prospect of Remus following him into the bedroom was another thing entirely. Remus smiled weakly, and walked stiffly down the hall to the guest room.

So much for progress, Harry thought bitterly.

~*~

The weeks had started to bleed together, and Harry found himself stuck in some sort of pseudo-stasis, both in his personal and professional life. The only indicator that time was moving at all was the gradual blooming of spring around him, and the appearance of another full moon. It went as smoothly as the last few, Remus still doing everything he could to steer clear of Harry in the days preceding it, neither of them daring to tempt fate and chancing a repeat of the incident.

The Red Moon case was pushing towards a cold case, as no new murders had surfaced, and Taggert seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth—again. Remus's information that they needed an Alpha to track nearby wolf packs had been added to the reports for the case, and they'd entirely abandoned that course of action. What made an Alpha an Alpha? With no way to determine this, they'd moved on to other things.

On the personal front, Harry had yet to say two words to Hermione without dissolving into a panic. Ron was easier; things were far from back to normal between them, but the fact that Ron had tried to get him out, had stood up to Not-Hermione during the interrogation, it had helped Harry's subconscious work through it. It was progress, but the snail speed in which it happened still frustrated Harry.

Hermione seemed to be struggling between giving Harry the space he needed, and wanting to talk things out. Because of this, Harry had come up with a number of creative ways to avoid crossing paths with her—in particular, showing up to work in the morning and leaving in the evening hidden beneath his invisibility cloak.

It was clear to Harry that Remus wanted him to try talking things out with Hermione, but the few times he'd broached the subject Harry had been quite happy to bite his head off. As such, Remus stopped trying, and instead took to watching Harry with concern when he was home. In the afternoons when Harry happened to be home, he'd cast him frequent glances over the top of his book or letter he'd be writing (Harry assumed to Kingsley, as he could not think of who else the man would be writing to) but he never dared broach the topic again, for which Harry was grateful.

They passed into May, and in his reluctance to face Hermione, Harry skipped out on the Memorial Dinner Molly Weasley hosted annually.

It had started two years before, when on the second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts Molly decided to host a large outdoor dinner and celebration, rounded off with fireworks dedicated to all the people they'd lost that day. They had collectively decided that the Ministry's glamorous gala that was always celebrated that day was far too stuffy, and they instead turned it into a celebration of their lives, and not grief for their deaths.

It was always great fun, but Harry couldn't bring himself to surround himself with so many people, and the idea of seeing Hermione made him sick with fright. He figured that his avoidance wasn't exactly healthy, but part of him didn't particularly care, and he was quite content to continue it. At the same time, his headspace was focused more intensely on fixing things with Remus, which was still his top priority.

By that time, it had been nearly six months since the incident, and Harry was determined to get past it. More than once he'd over-rushed things, and as a result he'd suffer another blackout. Remus and Harry both took it very hard, but for different reasons. Harry blamed himself for not being able to get better faster, and Remus blamed himself for pushing Harry too hard, even when it was Harry himself who had initiated the contact that had caused the negative reaction.

More than anything, Harry wanted to get to a point where Remus could be in their room again for more than a few minutes before Harry began to panic. Often these days, Harry woke to find himself wound around Remus's pillow, or his hands grasping at the empty space of the bed that at one time Remus had occupied. Harry wasn't certain that it meant he was ready for Remus to join him in their room again, but it was certainly pointing in the right direction.

However, it would be unfair to say that they'd made no progress. Harry had slowly worked through many of the triggering touches, and Remus could now touch Harry's wrists and hair without him dissolving into a panic. Anything that caged him in or restricted his movement was still a major problem, and often resulted in Harry suffering frighteningly intense panic attacks.

“You're pushing yourself too hard,” Remus had said patiently on more than one occasion, sitting back and watching Harry sadly while he sat with his face buried in his hands while he tried to calm down. “You need to give yourself credit for all the positive steps you've made, these things—”

“—Take time, I know,” Harry didn't bother to apologize for the bite in his tone. Remus had told him a hundred times. The reassurance didn't make it any easier.

Harry woke on the morning of the day preceding May's full moon, and he immediately felt as though something was different—changed. He felt none of the usual grogginess that often accompanied his morning wake-up, and instead he felt alert, refreshed, and hungry.

Harry made quick work of his morning shower, and all but bounced down to the main level to find it in the same decimated state he usually found on these mornings. Remus had more or less ate him out of house and home, and he had left a plate of food under a warming charm for Harry. Remus was nowhere to be seen, and for the moment Harry's mind was too consumed by his hunger to put much thought into it.

After his meal, Harry found that he was still overly energetic. Remus was still missing, and Harry was surprised how disturbed he was by this fact, when on recent moons he'd been relieved by the werewolf's absence.

Harry tried to pass the time working on the dying Red Moon case, still highly unnerved by their sudden silence. Unfortunately, with no new leads to speak of, it left Harry staring blankly at the various reports and crime scene photographs blankly, his quill dancing between his fingers as he thought.

“Having fun?”

Harry jumped, startled by the sudden voice, and his quill tumbled from his fingers and to the floor. Remus swept forward and picked it up, handing the quill back to Harry before he'd managed to move or say anything.

“Loads,” he said sarcastically, nodding his head in thanks as he accepted back the quill, while his mouth twitched into a small smirk. “Red Moon and their leader have disappeared, we've got no leads, and no way to figure out how to find an Alpha wolf to help us. I think it'd be easier if I knew what constituted an Alpha wolf. I don't think Snape covered that bit when he was subbing for you...”

“He did,” Remus replied, plopping down next to Harry. His hand immediately went to the back of Harry's neck and tickled the sparse hairs he found there, while he rested his palm against Harry's skin in an affectionate gesture, “you just had a mental block when Severus tried to teach you anything.” Harry snorted, but didn't reply. It wasn't like Remus was wrong.

“So tell me Professor, what makes an Alpha an Alpha?” Harry grinned at the attractive flush that decorated Remus's cheeks at the reference to his past profession, and he set aside his paperwork to lean into a casual embrace while he waited for an answer. The moment Harry had moved, Remus's arm shifted to coil around him in a possessive—but not restrictive—hold. He was quiet for a few moments, his thumb brushing over Harry's shoulder gently.

“An Alpha is determined by magical prowess and physical strength,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Werewolf hierarchy is complex, and some of it derives from the innate magic of the werewolf, and some of it is more...political, I guess you could say.”

Harry's brow furrowed as he listened, “how d'you mean?”

“Well,” Remus shifted a little and drew Harry in closer, and Harry allowed the contact, smiling to himself when he heard Remus let out a contented sigh, “when someone is turned, their magic is changed by the werewolf venom, and as a result they will become a Dominant or Submissive werewolf—I don't know the specifics of the why or how, it just...is. Dominants are always physically stronger, defenders, fighters—they protect the pack.” Harry rested an arm across Remus's middle, holding onto Remus as surely as he held onto Harry. Remus seemed momentarily startled by the contact, and he reached down with his free hand to rub his callused palm against the skin of Harry's forearm. After a brief pause Remus continued, but his expression shifted from academic to troubled.

“Submissives...” Remus tensed as he trailed off and Harry frowned, confused.

“Remus? Are you all right?” Harry reached up tentatively and pressed a hand against his shoulder, and the contact seemed to snap the older man out of his daze.

“I'm sorry Harry,” he said as he looked down at him, offering Harry a small, reassuring smile, “I was just...remembering.” Harry watched him with concern, but he had no idea what to say to reassure him. His eyes carried a look he knew well—the haunted look of someone who had seen too much. Harry was about to ask, but Remus spoke before he could.

“Submissives are physically weaker than their Dominant counterparts,” Remus said, his arm around Harry tensing as he continued, the horrified look in his eyes more pronounced than ever. “They are more the...caregivers of the pack. They collectively look after any children the female Submissives may have, or children who were turned young,” Remus paused again, swallowing as though his throat had suddenly become rather dry.

“Male Submissives are like glorified babysitters,” Remus continued, though Harry couldn't work out why Remus seemed so distressed all of a sudden. “They help the female Submissives, and...well, to put it bluntly, male Submissives are little more than fuck toys for the Dominants,” Remus looked towards the empty fire grate with that same horrified look. Harry felt himself go cold at the thought of what Remus was telling him.

“After Sirius was arrested, I disconnected from wizarding society and spent some time in a few different wolf packs. In many of them, the male Submissives were treated horribly. Of course, not all the packs were like that, but many were. Female Submissive werewolves are incredibly fertile, and a male Dominant could sneeze near her and she'd end up pregnant,” Remus grimaced and seemed to sense Harry's unease at the topic of conversation, and he continued to gently rub Harry's arm as he continued to speak. “Dominants who aren't interested in children turn to the male Submissives. I'm sure you can imagine the rest.”

Harry closed his eyes and his fingers twisted in the fabric of Remus's tatty cardigan. More than anything, it disturbed Harry that he had never known any of this. How could he have spent so much time around Remus, in the thick of the pro-werewolf movement, fighting Red Moon, and it had never come up? Harry wanted to ask if all the Submissives were raped as Remus had implied, but part of him really didn't want to know.

“The Dominants also assume important roles in the pack, namely Alpha, Beta, and Omega,” Remus continued, clearly keen to get away from the topic of Submissive werewolves. His voice was even as he spoke, “Alphas are the leaders, the strongest of the pack. The Beta is his second-in-command, and Omega is the weakest Dominant in the pack. These statuses can change at the drop of a hat. With werewolves nothing is permanent, not social standing, mates—nothing. If someone wants to challenge the Alpha for his position and he loses, assuming he isn't killed in the fight, he'll be ejected from the pack. Many lone Alphas die, they can't handle the isolation.”

“They wouldn't be demoted to Omega?” Harry asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“Technically, yes, but most Alphas are too proud to stay in the pack as Omega, and will leave on their own if they aren't forced out,” Remus said, his tone unreadable but his eyes were still distant and thoughtful.

“So...to sum up, Alphas are powerful leaders,” Harry said, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he spoke.

“Yes, exactly,” Remus went a little pink and seemed to realize that he'd rambled on a bit, but Harry hadn't minded. In fact, the glint in his eye, that spark he got when he was explaining or teaching something was endearing, and Harry had been quite happy to listen to him.

“Well,” Remus said after a pause, his awkward tone catching Harry a little off-guard, “I'll leave you to you work.” He untangled himself from Harry and stood up, but in a flash of deeply ingrained Seeker instincts Harry had reached out, and his fingers closed gently around Remus's wrist.

“Stay?” Harry could already feel a self-conscious flush creeping up his neck, but something about being parted from Remus in that moment felt...wrong. Harry couldn't explain it, but privately he hoped that it was a sign that things were almost back to normal between them.

Remus's eyes brightened at Harry's request, and he sat back down next to him. Harry tossed aside his work and eased into the gentle embrace, a small smile playing across his lips as the warm, gentle weight of Remus's arm encircled him. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Remus's shoulder, enjoying the gentle touch of the older man's fingers carding through his hair, the brush of lips on the top of his head, and the careful intimacy he conducted himself with, even so close to moonrise. Harry wondered about it, how Remus was able to be so in control now, when barely a handful of months earlier he had been the polar opposite. Harry hoped that it meant that the bond was settling further, but he wasn't certain, and at that precise moment he was in no mood to over-analyze it. Slowly, Harry allowed his mind to drift, and he focused only on the gentle weight of the embrace, and how good it felt.

“I love you, Harry.”

The words were a soft whisper, almost breathed, rather than spoken. Harry nearly didn't catch them, and he froze as the meaning behind the statement sunk in. His heart thudded in his chest, and Harry felt like his voice had been stolen, as he had no idea what to say. Harry felt as though a dozen butterflies had been let loose in his stomach, and he could hear the absolute sincerity in the older man's voice.

The admission had startled Harry, but not in a negative way. Feigning sleep, he curled up closer to the older man with a soft sigh, and he felt the point of his chin rest lightly against the top of his head. His large hand rubbed up and down his back, and he felt a faint sensation of shame at the fact that he did not feel ready to repeat the words back to him. If Remus knew that Harry wasn't really sleeping he did not comment, and instead gently held onto him until Harry really did doze off.

~*~

That night, Harry waited for Remus's transformation to occur while he lounged on the sofa. The fire blazing and chasing away the spring night's damp chill

Somewhere up above, Harry heard the familiar, mournful howl. Moony disliked transforming without Harry present, but as Remus had repeated to him so many times before, there was only so much he was ready for, and these things take time.

Moony found Harry quickly, ears pricked and tail high, his mouth open in a wolfish smile. Harry grinned at the sight; at that moment, Moony reminded him more of an overgrown puppy than a fearsome werewolf. The positive reaction emboldened Moony and he stepped forward, snuffling in the crook of Harry's neck, the soft hairs of Moony's muzzle tickling Harry's sensitive skin and making him laugh softly. Harry's fingers immediately reached up to card through the thick fur, and he felt that familiar comfort that only Moony seemed able to bring out of him. His stress at his and Remus's shaky relationship, his anxiety surrounding his friends, it all faded to the background. Moony climbed onto the sofa with him, the piece of furniture groaning under the enormous animal's weight, and he rested his head in Harry's lap, ears perked and eyes focused on Harry while he pet him.

Harry didn't say anything, but sat with Moony while he tried to go over the Red Moon files one last time, while bearing in mind all Remus had told him earlier about werewolf positions within the pack and everything else. It had been a lot of information to absorb, and Harry was finding that he wished he had thought to take notes.

By midnight, he'd made no headway towards coming up with a resolution, and his attempt to work was punctuated by frequent wide yawns. Moony whined and nudged him with his nose, and Harry didn't need to speak wolf to know what he was hinting at.

“In a minute Moony,” he mumbled drowsily, any further words cut off by another yawn. Moony whined again and nudged him more insistently.

“Okay, fine, you win,” Harry yawned again and stood, his spine popping in a few places as he stretched, and headed up the stairs in a half-asleep torpor.

Harry got ready for bed, Moony following him around like a gigantic duckling, and as he eased into bed, he watched Moony hesitate near the doorway with a soft whine, then began to turn away.

“No, Moony,” Harry called, reaching out to the blurry shape of the wolf as he set down his glasses on his night table. “You...you can stay,” Moony looked back to Harry at his words, his ears perking up and tail raising, then trotted around the bed and clambered up next to him. He walked in a tight circle on top of the duvet, then curled up with a sigh of contentment. Smiling a little, certain he'd probably regret the rash decision come morning, Harry extinguished the lights with a quick flick of his wand and shifted closer to the werewolf.

Curled into Moony's warmth, Harry's mind went back to what the Remus had told him earlier. It wasn't impossible to find the werewolf packs, but they needed an Alpha to do it. That means we need a strong, leader-type werewolf...Harry pressed his cheek against Moony's thick fur with a gentle sigh, the werewolf already fast asleep.

Harry could count the amount of werewolves he knew personally on one hand, and none of them would really come into the realm of the kind Remus had described that they would need. Harry shut his eyes, and almost at once they snapped back open and he struggled to stay still as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

Harry knew who he needed.

And he knew exactly where to find him.

Azkaban.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon