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
- 20
- 21
- 22
Chapter 21 – Moving Forward

“You smell like him again,” Remus growled the moment Harry had gotten home. Harry groaned in frustration as he stepped further into the front hall, and feigned deafness as he shrugged out of his travelling cloak and tried to shake off the claustrophobic aftereffect that always came with Apparition.

“Great, just what I need,” Harry grumbled under his breath, “more jealous werewolf bollocks,” he shot Remus an annoyed glare, but the werewolf seemed too lost in his jealousy at the different scents on Harry's person for his annoyance to completely register.

Harry hung up his cloak on the available hook before he rounded on the older man, “Nothing happened Remus. Greyback was helping with the case, that's all,” Remus was leaning against the stair's banister, his arms crossed across his chest and an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. Harry's words did nothing to placate him, as he still looked highly agitated. Harry ignored his desire to rush upstairs and jump into a hot shower in an effort to scrub off the feeling of Greyback's hands on him, and instead stepped over to Remus at a slow, steady pace, keen to defuse Remus's attitude before it got out of hand.

“He called me your bitch, you know,” Harry reached up and wrapped his arms around Remus's neck, and grinned a little at the cranky werewolf. The moment Harry embraced him Remus began to relax, and raised his eyebrows in surprise at Harry's words.

“Did he now?”

“Mhm,” Harry said, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I'm pretty sure he meant it as an insult, but if I was to anyone's bitch, so to speak, I'm glad I'm yours,” Harry looked up into the amber gaze, darkened with lust and jealousy, and Harry grinned a little, pleased at the reaction his words had caused. With a low growl, Remus wrapped a hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulled him in for a rough kiss.

The kiss was confusing for Harry; its ferocity reminded him of Remus's anger and violence from the incident, and the memory of it still terrified him. Harry's arms tightened around Remus's neck as he tensed, and immediately Remus seemed to recognize his mistake and softened his hold. He did not break the kiss, but rubbed at Harry's neck, his other arm holding him gently. Harry recognized the silent apology at once, and he relaxed a little while he parted his lips, and the more experienced tongue darted out at once to taste him. Harry moaned softly as he relaxed, and pressed himself more securely against Remus. The hand at his waist trailed down to cup his left buttock, squeezing it as he broke the kiss momentarily to draw Harry's lower lip into his mouth. He tugged it once, eliciting another soft moan from the younger man, then claimed Harry's lips with his own once more.

“Master, dinner is prepared,” Kreacher said suddenly.

The couple broke apart in surprise and looked down at the elf who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was glaring daggers at Remus, who was clearly trying to keep from vocalizing his frustration at being interrupted. Harry's eyes flicked from Kreacher and back to Remus, and offered him a feeble, apologetic smile.

“Fine Kreacher,” Harry said with a weary smile, “we're coming.” The elf bowed low and disappeared with a sharp crack.

“That elf picks the most appropriate moments to announce dinner,” Harry muttered, the mood effectively ruined by Kreacher's sudden appearance.

Remus hummed his agreement, and kissed Harry once more before he reluctantly let him go, “Go wash up, I'll ask Kreacher to keep your food warm.” Harry smiled apologetically as he kissed him again, then hurried upstairs.

Most unfortunately, Kreacher's sudden appearance was enough to quash Harry's budding arousal. More than a little annoyed, Harry showered quickly and shrugged into some fresh clothes without paying much attention to which garments he was grabbing. Harry headed back down to the main level while he tried to come up with a way to keep the elf from deliberately cockblocking him in the future, as he was quite keen on going forward with things with Remus, not the other way around. Coming up with nothing, he headed for the dining room.

Dinner was an awkward affair, aided in no small part to the house elf's determination to stay at Harry's side like some sort of sentient chastity belt. Harry was at a loss for how to get rid of him and Remus, instead of sharing Harry's irritation, seemed highly amused by the elf's antics and he ate quietly while he watched Harry's varied attempts to shoo Kreacher away.

“Seriously Kreacher,” Harry said for what felt like the twentieth time, “I don't need anything else. You don't need to stay here. You can go iron my pants or something if you need something to do,” Kreacher ignored the suggestion as well as Harry's exasperated tone.

“But Master has not had pudding,” Kreacher said, his eyes darting to Remus for a moment and narrowing into a distrustful glare, “perhaps Master would like a treacle tart for which he is so partial, or—”

“I'm fine Kreacher,” Harry grumbled, cutting the elf off, but Kreacher continued to hover and fuss, until at last Remus and Harry stood from the table, and Harry all but dragged the older man away.

Harry quickly warded the sitting room to keep Kreacher from wandering in, and he all but fell onto the sofa. “I swear to God I'm going to murder than damn elf,” he grumbled as he tilted his head back and stared at the off-white ceiling. Harry felt the sofa dip next to him, and Remus's leg brushed against his knee. Harry shifted closer, just as the werewolf wound an arm around his waist.

“If you do, do it outside. Blood is extremely difficult to get out of the carpet, even with magic.” Harry snickered at the comment, and leant his head against Remus's shoulder.

“Very funny,” Harry said as he rotated his shoulders, still unsettled by everything that had happened with Greyback. Remus seemed to sense Harry's discomfort, his hand snaking up his spine to his neck and rubbed it gently. The gentle contact made Harry feel as though he was melting, the stress of the day dissolving, and Harry felt as though it was very likely that he might just fall asleep against Remus like that.

“How...How did Greyback's release go?” Harry's eyes snapped open at Remus's question, the older man's fingers freezing on his neck as Harry lifted his head to look directly at him.

“After your Jealous Werewolf routine from earlier, I didn't think you'd want the details,” Harry said, keeping his voice neutral while he crossed his arms across his chest. Remus bowed his head a little, clearly embarrassed by how he'd let his instincts dictate his behaviour again.

“I'd like to know, if you'd like to talk about it,” Remus said after a pause, “I thought you might like to get it off your chest.”

Harry stared at Remus in silence for several long moments. He was certain Remus had some ulterior motive in asking, but for the life of him Harry couldn't work out what it was. He straightened up properly, then after a moment's thought, Harry shrugged.

“It went fine, I guess. Greyback was a bit...repulsive, but he was really different than what I was expecting,” Harry said, wincing a little as the hand at his neck tensed. It wasn't painful, but he could feel the beginnings of Remus's Possessive Werewolf attitude beginning take hold. With the progression of their physical relationship, Harry was confident that nothing like the incident was likely to happen again, but it still made him nervous.

“Different how?” Remus asked, his voice remarkably even, despite the fact that he still looked incredibly tense.

“Well, during the war and just from what I knew about him he was...well, a vicious monster. He...I mean, he...” Harry trailed off and shook his head in an effort to sort through his thoughts. “He mauled Bill, he...hurt you, he was practically Voldemort's attack dog, but seeing him now...it was like he was a completely different man.”

“Greyback has his own code of honour,” Remus said, “there have been wrongs on all sides, and he is far from an innocent man or even a good man, but it all stems from his desire to protect his own. It is a noble cause, in its own way.”

As Remus spoke, Harry watched him in silence. His tone of voice was almost affectionate, and it surprised Harry that he seemed to carry no anger for the man who turned him. “I would have rather he hadn't...” Remus trailed off, an edge of bitterness surfacing in his tone, “I can still respect him, even if I do not necessarily agree with him.”

“You told me once that Greyback turned you out of spite because of something your father did to him,” Harry said hesitantly, recalling the conversation they'd had during his sixth year, “how can you respect him if he turned you into something you...I mean, it just seems a little strange,” Harry's tone was apologetic as he looked up at Remus, who had a faraway look in his eyes.

“At the time, I believed that to be true. It was what I had grown up hearing, my father had wronged Greyback, and he turned me as revenge for what my father had done. I was told that he was the most vicious werewolf alive today, that he wished to overthrow the wizards...but then something very strange happened.”

“What happened?”

“I met him,” Remus said, finally refocusing his gaze on Harry. Harry blinked in confusion, not understanding how that could have so drastically changed his attitude of the man who had altered his life so irrevocably. Seeming to sense Harry's confusion, he elaborated.

“Greyback believes in turning children, that is not a myth. But his reasoning was very different than what I had been led to believe,” Remus's hand hand resumed rubbing at the back of Harry's neck and he seemed to have calmed slightly, but his tone of voice was still bitter as he spoke.

“He seeks out children who have something of the wolf to them. I still don't know what he meant by that, or what he saw in me, but he seemed to believe that I would have been a very strong Dominant, if things had gone according to his plan. Instead, Albus intervened and protected me from Greyback. He would have taken me from my parents, given half the chance,” the bitterness with which Remus spoke turned to anger, and Harry reached out and rested a hand on Remus's thigh, giving it a small squeeze in an effort to calm him. He didn't know what he could possibly say that would make Remus feel better, but if the small smile that graced his features was any indication, he seemed to understand the sentiment.

“I never wanted that power, and I never wanted to be...” he cut himself off with a small shake of his head. “I wanted to be a wizard, I am a wizard. Greyback does not turn children as indiscriminately as I was once led to believe; in the time I spent spying for the Order, he spent more time finding safe hideouts for the weaker of his pack—children, the elderly, the disabled...and he took in almost any wolf that came to him seeking asylum. I never saw him turn a single child while I was with them, I was too far down in terms of pack hierarchy to be able to question him and find out why he suddenly seemed so reluctant to turn humans. All of his pack members that I spoke to seemed horrified by my impression of Greyback, and they all spoke of him with great respect and adoration.”

“Are you saying that everything we know about Greyback is all Ministry propaganda?” Harry shifted and tucked his legs under himself and rested his bum on his ankles, listening to Remus attentively.

“Not all, but a great deal, yes, it does seem like a lot of it was geared to bring him down, rather than giving him a fair trial,” Remus said, turning away from Harry momentarily, looking troubled, “His desire to turn children is inexcusable, but there's just...more to him than what the general wizarding public has been led to believe.”

Silence descended between the pair, and Harry was at a loss for what to say. It was a strange, convoluted explanation, and as he went over everything he'd heard and seen over the last days he felt suddenly very cold, as though he'd been doused in ice water.

“He searches out children who have something of the wolf to them...”

“You would make a good Alpha Bitch, Potter, your mind works the right way...”

Harry shivered.

“Harry? Are you all right?” He looked up at the sound of his own name, and he saw Remus watching him, his face lined with worry.

“Fine,” he replied with a weak smile, “just a lot to take in, that's all,” Harry paused for a moment, his mind going back to the events of the day for the umpteenth time, then something occurred to him, “Er, when I was escorting Greyback to his territory, he changed.”

“How do you mean?” Remus's brow furrowed with confusion, and Harry quickly elaborated.

“I mean, his Beta wolf came tearing at us, and to prove his identity to him Greyback changed to his wolf form and back at will,” Harry looked up to Remus, and was surprised by how unsurprised Remus seemed by this piece of information. “How come he can do that?”

“Honestly Harry? I don't know,” Remus moved his arm to drape it over Harry's shoulders, and he pulled him fast to his side. Harry eased into the contact; he had a feeling all the talk of Greyback had probably agitated him, and the small show of affection was his way of re-staking his claim—even if there was no one around to see it. “There's a lot of myth and speculation around the ability. It is something I have heard that most Alphas are able to do, and so it used to be believed that only werewolves destined to be pack Alphas could do it, but there are a few cases of wolves that are not in the position of Alpha that I know of who can do it as well. As far as I am aware, the general belief is that only very strong werewolves have such an ability.”

“I bet you could probably do it,” Harry said with a small smile, “you're one of the strongest people I know,” Remus chuckled softly and drew Harry in for a kiss.

“Now don't be ridiculous,” he murmured, reaching up to card his fingers through Harry's hair, “God, I love your hair,” he said softly. A look that bordered on reverence came over his face while his fingertips toyed with the perpetually messy locks, while Harry laughed softly. He could guess that the sudden shift in conversation was a hint that Remus wasn't keen to continue discussing Greyback or werewolf mythology, and instead they passed the remainder of the evening in comfortable quiet before they decided to call it a night.

After going through their nighttime rituals and settling in, Remus coiled an arm around Harry's waist, pulled him close, and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. A little surprised, Harry returned it, his arms squashed between their chests as Remus deepened the kiss, coaxing Harry's mouth open and tasting him while his wayward hands began to sneak downwards.

After their very successful morning, Harry was quite happy to do more, but there was still a faint tendril of nervousness within him. Its origins were rooted in his anxiety over the fact that he'd done nothing with a man—except for what he'd done so far with Remus, and his lack of experience was making him feel self-conscious.

“Remus,” Harry breathed as they broke the kiss, “I—” he hissed and arched his back as Remus pressed the heel of his palm against Harry's groin, effectively cutting off his words.

“It's okay Harry,” Remus murmured in a similar soft tone, “let me take care of you.” Harry smiled a little, somewhat amused by Remus's misinterpretation of his words, and instead offered up a small nod.

Remus shifted and balanced himself above Harry, careful to keep from boxing him in and kissed him once, then moved to plant another kiss to the hollow of his throat. The kisses continued down the centre of Harry's chest, while at the same time Remus's fingertips brushed along the trail of wiry hairs from his navel to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

The sensation of Remus's tongue dipping into Harry's navel elicited a surprised groan from him, and he heard Remus chuckle softly. His hands moved to Harry's hips and looked up once, silently asking for permission. Harry nodded once, and Remus smiled.

He hooked his thumbs in either side of the elastic, and slowly he eased the garment off. Harry lifted his arse off the mattress to help Remus along, and soon his flagging erection was fully exposed. He heard Remus's breath hitch as he peeled the trousers the rest of the way off and tossed them aside. Remus pressed his open palm against Harry's abdomen, and leaned up to brush the young man's lips with his own.

“You are so beautiful,” Remus breathed, and Harry turned his head away in embarrassment; no one had ever called him beautiful before, and he did not dislike it nearly as much as he thought he would. It seemed Harry's reaction had amused the older man in some way, as he heard a soft chuckle, and the hand on his abdomen slid downward and coiled around his cock. Harry gasped sharply at the contact as his neck arched, and the back of his head pressed into the bedspread.

Remus stroked him with slow, sure movements, and shifted downward to take Harry into his mouth. Harry's hips jerked involuntarily, and a trembling moan escaped his barely-parted lips. Remus gripped onto Harry's hip with one hand, the opposite one going to play with his sac. The touches were almost too much for him as he groaned, Remus moving his mouth over his shaft with practised movements, bobbing his head and applying pressure in all the right places. Harry almost completely lost it when he felt the tip of his cock brush the back of Remus's throat, but the older man did not slow down or even falter. Within minutes Harry was crying out his orgasm as he shot his load down Remus's throat.

Harry slumped bonelessly into the bed, his skin shining with sweat, entirely spent. Remus stretched out alongside him, smiling contentedly as Harry shifted closer to him.

“That was, by far, the best oral sex I have ever had,” he murmured, his voice still a little breathless. Remus chuckled softly, the sound cut short as Harry leant in to kiss him before he had a chance to respond. In this position, he could feel a distinctive hardness of Remus's erection pressing against his bare thigh. Harry felt thrill of excitement run through him, in particular from the realization that he felt no fear at the prospect of further intimacy with the older man.

Harry pressed his hands against Remus's bare chest, and leaned up to kiss him again while his hands began the journey south, his fingertips ghosting over the scarred flesh. Remus froze, and rested a hand over Harry's to still his movements. He broke the kiss and looked intently into Harry's eyes, “I don't want you forcing yourself, Harry,” He said seriously, “If you feel that you're not ready, you don't have to push yourself on my account.”

“No,” Harry said, meaning it, while he silently hoped that Remus believed his sentiment, “I want to, it's just that...” he trailed off momentarily as he felt his face grow warm, “well, I've never done this before and I'm a little nervous,” Harry looked away, and he heard Remus laugh softly. Strong fingers caught his chin and forced his gaze back to him. Remus kissed Harry slowly, gently, moving the hand from his chin to cradle the back of his neck.

“Take your time,” he murmured against Harry's mouth. “I'm not going anywhere,” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped from Harry before he could stop it, and he leant in to kiss Remus again.

Harry couldn't understand the shaky nervousness he now felt. It wasn't as though he'd never seen the man naked before; with the monthly full moons it was inevitable that he would see the man's full monty sooner rather than later. But this time, the prospect of seeing Remus without any clothes on seemed to carry more weight to it. It wasn't a post-full moon morning, and the idea of being intimate with him, touching his naked flesh, it made Harry both nervous and excited all at once.

Slowly, Harry broke the kiss, his fingers brushing over the needle-thin scars that decorated Remus's torso. It pained Harry to see them—he knew how they'd gotten there, and he wished there was a way for him to will them away. His thumb brushed over a peculiar puncture scar on his lower stomach, at least an inch in diameter. The muscle twitched under Harry's gentle touch, and he looked up at Remus.

“One of the few times Prongs needed to be violent with Moony to keep him in line,” he said softly in response to the silent question. The reference to his father made Harry feel very strange, given that he was lying in bed, naked, with his father's last surviving friend. At the same time, it bothered Harry more than he'd like to admit to hear Remus refer to his werewolf form almost as though he was another being entirely.

Determined to shake himself from the invasive morose thoughts, he drew Remus in for a kiss. The sensation of skin on skin chased away his doubts, and Harry busied his hands with the tie on the older man's pyjama bottoms. Not for the first time, Remus stiffened as though to stop him, but relaxed a second later and allowed Harry to continue.

Harry faltered, his hand hovering above the loosed trousers uncertainly. He broke the kiss and looked away from Remus in an effort to hide how nervous he was. His inexperience was making him feel increasingly self-conscious, and while he wanted to do this, he was also afraid of messing it up.

“It's all right, Harry,” Remus whispered, his hand moving to rest on top of Harry's, and gently he guided it towards the obvious bulge.

Harry hated how nervous he was; he hadn't been half as nervous when he'd done it for the first time with Ginny, and he couldn't fathom why this time around his emotions were so frazzled. Harry knew that he wanted to do this, wanted it more than he ever thought he would, but getting over that hump of uncertainty was proving more difficult that he had anticipated. With Remus's help, he broke through the wall of his irrational fear, and slowly he slid his hand down past the elastic waistband.

Remus gasped sharply, just as Harry exhaled a shaky breath at the same time. Harry's slightly clammy hand closed around the warm, smooth flesh and he began to stroke him awkwardly, while he pressed his forehead against Remus's chest. Harry angled his head to try and watch what he was doing, but it was too dark for him to see much. Remus wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, his fingers disappearing into his perpetually untidy hair, stroking the locks in clear encouragement.

Remus's breathing quickly became ragged, as he whispered praise and instruction in Harry's ear in a low, husky tone. Remus head tilted back and let out a soft groan, his hips jerking weakly as Harry sped up his movements as he slowly got used to the rhythm of what he was doing, his entire body jerking slightly in time with his movements. At last Remus let out a grunt of pleasure and pulled Harry in for a rough kiss, while his seed sputtered over Harry's hand and Remus's lower stomach.

The pair slumped onto the bed, Remus breathing deeply as he came down from his post-orgamic high. He reached for his wand and waved it lazily to clean the mess from the pair of them, then coaxed Harry around and pulled him into his arms, his back to Remus's chest. “That was certainly a start,” he murmured with a chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his shoulder, while Harry laughed softly. He loved how being held like this always made him feel so warm, so at peace.

“Yeah, something like that,” Harry murmured, feeling heavy and sleepy. They had somehow managed to kick off the blankets to the end of the bed during their activities, but he had absolutely no desire to move to get them.

“I like this, you know,” Harry mumbled drowsily, his eyes already closed.

“What do you mean?” Remus asked in a similar sleepy tone.

“This whole being with you thing,” Harry explained, rolling over in the embrace so that he could see him. “I was really scared, but I had no need to be. You...you make me feel safe, protected.” Harry felt his face grow a little warm, and he tried to push away the embarrassment as he continued. “I'm so used to being the protector, fighting the good fight, all that stuff. I never realized how good it can feel to give that power, or responsibility, or whatever you want to call it...to someone else.” Harry's eyelids fluttered shut when Remus leaned in to kiss him softly.

“It is my honour to protect you, Harry Potter.”

The couple fell asleep warm and content in their embrace. The bedroom door had been left open to accommodate Harry's claustrophobia, and Kreacher peered inside. He watched the pair for a long moment, then silently stepped into the room, lifted the duvet from the end of the bed and he draped it over the couple. He slipped from the bedroom without a backward glance.

~*~

The following morning Harry wondered if he was still dreaming, as over breakfast he was sure he'd heard Kreacher call Remus, 'Master Remus'.

It couldn't have just been a dream, or his ears playing tricks on him, given that Remus choked on his coffee when the elf had said it, Kreacher bowing low to each of them in turn before leaving them to their breakfast without any further explanation. Harry stared blankly at the spot where the elf had Disapparated from, blinking with confusion as he tried to process the elf's abrupt shift in behaviour.

“Well...that's new,” Harry speared a chunk of egg with his fork, his eyes still staring at the empty space, half expecting Kreacher to return and explain himself.

“You could say that,” Remus said as he mopped the coffee from his face, looking as surprised as Harry felt. “I suppose it's safe to assume that he doesn't plan on poisoning me any time soon.”

“Or if he is he's playing it pretty close to the chest,” Harry smirked as he nursed his own coffee cup, finally shifting his gaze back to Remus, his confusion dissolving as he smiled, remembering their activities from the night before. The warm afterglow that had continued well into the morning was making Harry feel almost giddy with joy, and he was looking forward to repeating the experience hopefully sooner, rather than later. He had half a mind to call in and tell Caldwell he was ill, just to have another go. He knew he couldn't, not with the threat of Red Moon still hanging over them, but Harry was finding it rather difficult to think with his brain instead of his cock, especially with Remus eyeing him in a way that told Harry that he was likely thinking the same thing.

Harry took an extra long time saying goodbye to Remus following their amiable breakfast, and he showed up to the office looking delightfully dishevelled. While Caldwell made no comment to his rumpled robes, the sight of it made Ron turn the same shade as a boiled lobster as he stopped dead in his tracks when they crossed paths in the hallway. Harry couldn't help but grin, but offered up no explanation as he slipped back into his office, while Ron hurried back down the hall.

Despite the fact that throughout the morning Harry's mind had been clouded by the previous evening's activities, as he settled into the work day, he was eager to get moving on contacting the packs and families that Greyback had told him about. True to his word, he did not give up the bearings to Caldwell, or Ron, or anyone else who asked. This made planning their approach a little tricky, and more than a little frustrating on Caldwell's end.

“Potter,” Caldwell finally sputtered exasperatedly, “it's Greyback. There's really no need to be so damn honourable when it comes to him. It's not like he's an innocent party after all,” she finished, and Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, unable to believe what he was hearing. He'd always thought of Caldwell as a fair-minded woman, but in that moment, Harry could understand why Greyback had been so reluctant to share the pack locations with him. The lack of respect Caldwell seemed to have for the verbal agreement they'd made with Greyback deeply unsettled him.

“I made a promise, Caldwell,” Harry said after a long moment of silence. His voice was a dangerous calm that she gave pause to as she took in his words. “You might be on this case, but I will be the one associating with werewolves for the rest of my life. I'm not about to break a promise to someone like Fenrir Greyback. And even if I wasn't so involved in the culture, I don't go back on my word.”

~*~

Ron was waiting outside Harry's office an hour later, his arms crossed and a grin plastered across his face.

“Have a fun morning?” He asked, with a look on his face that told Harry that he'd likely heard Harry and Caldwell's bickering through the door—they hadn't bothered to try and keep their voices down.

“I think Caldwell is planning to use thumbscrews on me soon,” he grumbled before he could think through the comment, and Ron pressed his lips together in a thin line that was highly reminiscent of McGonagall.

Caldwell had taken it upon herself to inform the other Aurors on the Red Moon case what they were up to, and it was no surprise that most were not overly keen with the plan. With a tricky but clever tongue-tying curse Hermione had shared with them, they were able to divulge the information safely and without worry that anyone was going to go running to the Prophet. The Aurors all knew Greyback was free, but they were also aware of the conditions of his release, and it seemed many of the seasoned Aurors were itching for an excuse to throw him back in Azkaban. Caldwell had had no issue with ensuring that that information stayed within their department, and she had done everything she could to keep it from getting out, for which Harry was deeply grateful.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled at last, not meeting Ron's eye. He could be as high-minded as he liked, but he couldn't fault Ron's feelings on the matter. Greyback had savaged his older brother; that was not an act that could be easily forgiven.

“Forget it,” Ron said as he turned to head down the hall, “C'mon, Hermione's waiting for us at the Leaky,” Harry followed the redhead in awkward, tense silence.

Hermione's smile seemed rather fixed as Ron sat at her side, and Harry across from her at their usual table at the back of the pub. The awkward silence did not abate, and the couple exchanged a significant look, while Harry looked on, his brow knitted in confusion. When they looked back at him, it seemed as though they wanted him to ask them something. Harry had a fairly good idea what they were going to ask, but after his exhausting morning with Caldwell he had little desire to discuss it further, and decided to play dumb. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know exactly what,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “What happened with You Know Who?”

“Well, back in May of 1998—ow!” Harry grimaced and rubbed his arm where Hermione had hit him.

“Don't be a smartass. You Know Who who you were with yesterday,” Hermione snapped, while raised her eyebrows, her curiosity almost coming off her in waves. Harry hesitated, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to get out of it with an I don't want to talk about it, and he took a moment to choose his words carefully before he finally responded.

“It was weird,” Harry said at last, “he kept making cracks about Remus, and kept vaguely hinting that he wanted to turn me,” he continued as three servings of lamb stew and a loaf of crusty bread materialized on their table. Harry picked up his spoon, but his stomach was too knotted up to even contemplate eating at the moment.

“It's weird,” Harry continued, toying with his spoon and avoiding their eyes while he spoke. “He was nothing like he was during the war. All he cared about was keeping his—family safe,” Harry paused and frowned, tucking into his lunch before he continued. “I never thought I'd say this, but I sort of respect him. Everything he did was designed to protect his family. I'm not saying he's a good man, he's just...there's more to him, I guess.” Harry looked up from his stew, which he had been prodding but hadn't eaten to find both his friends staring at him with wide eyes. “What? What is it this time?”

“He wants to turn you?” Ron sounded aghast, while Hermione was holding her hands up over her mouth, looking as though somebody had died.

“I don't think he was serious,” Harry said quickly, while he fished out a chunk of potato and stared at it, if nothing else just to avoid looking at the horrified looks his friends were still giving him. “I think he was just trying to shake me up a bit. In the end it worked out pretty well for me,” Harry smirked, remembering the previous night's activities, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of it. He didn't elaborate, and instead decided to let the couple stew in their unfounded worry, while Harry's appetite returned with a vengeance, and he began to eat.

~*~

The week passed slowly for Harry.

Harry and his supervisor had spent the better part of the week running in circles and sniping at each other like a pair of angry squirrels, debating methods for approaching the werewolf families and packs. Caldwell was blatantly ignoring all the advice Greyback had given them—which Harry had shared with her following that first meeting with him. Harry was insistent that it was best for him to do as Greyback had said and take his Beta along, given that with another werewolf present they were more likely to talk with him, while Caldwell wanted to send a team to back him up.

Alternatively, Harry could not recall a time where he looked forward so much to going home at the end of the day. His physical relationship with Remus was moving forward slowly but steadily, Harry was gaining confidence in the bedroom with each passing day. They had yet to move past hurried hand jobs and mind-blowing oral sex; Remus was infuriatingly self-conscious about pushing Harry too far, even accidentally. Harry appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn't help feeling like he was being coddled. He knew that Remus meant well, but he'd rather be treated like an adult than a child; Remus knew full well that if Harry didn't want to do something, he'd say so.

Despite his frustrations in both his personal and professional life, his stubbornness seemed to have paid off, and at long last Caldwell caved to Harry's demands and he was allowed to contact Greyback and set up a time when he could meet with his Beta and begin meeting with the wolf packs.

One sunny Thursday afternoon, Harry found himself on the edge of the Black Forest, with Fenrir Greyback's Beta, Ulrich at his side. He had been in the other werewolf's company for barely fifteen minuted but Harry was already beginning to regret the decision to have him accompany him—Ulrich had not stopped checking him out since they'd left.

It was vastly different from Greyback's flirtations. With Greyback, Harry knew that he was doing it just to get a rise out of him, or to deliberately make him feel uncomfortable. With Ulrich, it was a quiet, surreptitious look, and every time Harry turned to try and catch him at it, he glanced away. Harry could feel the werewolf's eyes on him the moment he'd looked away, and it made Harry incredibly uncomfortable, though he had no idea how to address it. Privately, Harry hoped that the scent of his and Remus's morning activities would be enough to make the Beta keep his hands to himself until he could come up with a better way to get the Beta to knock it off.

They wove through the trees towards the territory, Ulrich in the lead and Harry falling in step behind him. He stood up straight and did his best to look as professional and unruffled as he could next to the werewolf, but the fact was the man made him look tiny. Ulrich had nearly a foot in height on him, he was almost twice as wide, and he was easily as muscular as Greyback. Harry had never been particularly self-conscious by his muscle mass or height, but it was difficult to not be while in the company of such an enormous man.

Harry could feel the moment they passed into the territory; the unfamiliar sensation of the wards' magic fluttered over his skin like butterfly wings. It felt very different from any ward he'd ever felt before, and for a moment Harry wondered if this was what werewolf magic felt like. He'd heard and read about nonhuman forms of magic before, but he knew very little about it. Another thing to ask Hermione about next time I see her, Harry thought, jerking to a halt when he saw a pair of towering men striding towards them through the trees.

The two werewolves that approached them matched Greyback and his Beta in size and stature. Both were well over six feet, and built like a pair of brick sheds. They were both sparsely dressed in muggle garb of sturdy jeans, wife beaters, and well-worn leather jackets.

“Ulrich,” boomed the man on the right as he came close enough for Harry to see him clearly. He was dark-skinned and clean shaven, his long, straight black hair swept away from his face and cascaded halfway down his back. “What brings you?” He pulled Harry's companion into a one-armed hug, clapping him hard on the back before he stepped away. Harry was surprised by the North American accent he heard on the man's lips, though he tried to hide it as he glanced to the man's companion, who was a scant inch or two shorter and just as broad, his wavy silver and auburn hair pushed back from his face in the same style, and a bushy red beard strengthening the look of his jaw. The dark-skinned man looked directly at Harry, and he watched as his nostrils flared slightly as he eyed Harry curiously.

“Bad business I'm afraid, Alpha,” Ulrich replied, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and dragging him forward. Startled by the sudden movement, Harry stumbled a little before he found his feet, and again he felt unsettlingly small, surrounded by the three gargantuan men. Were all werewolves so big? He shrugged out from under Ulrich's hold on his shoulder while he tried to not look as bothered as he felt by the casual contact. “Harry,” Ulrich said, apparently ignorant to Harry's discomfort, “this is Alpha Halim, and his Beta, Brannigan.”

Harry nodded to each of them in turn. The pair did not regard Harry with outright dislike, but they did appear politely wary. Harry understood the attitude easily enough, and did not feel offended by it. “Alpha, Harry is bound to a lone werewolf, and he works for the Ministry,” Harry tensed at his words, fully aware how most werewolves felt about the Ministry of Magic. “I'll allow him to explain,” Ulrich finished with an encouraging smile and gave him a small nudge forward.

“Um,” Harry cleared his throat, trying his best to not let how intimidated he felt show. “My name's Harry Potter, (their eyes raked Harry's hairline at once) and I'm a Trainee Auror at the Auror Office. One of my late father's closest friends is a werewolf, and my partner is one as well,” Harry fought the flush that threatened to creep up his neck; they didn't need to know that it happened to be the same werewolf.

“Over the last few months the Anti-Werewolf group Red Moon has been targeting bound werewolf-human couples. We were concerned that most packs may not know what was going on, and I'm visiting as many as I can with my, er, emissary,” he glanced briefly to Ulrich, who offered Harry another small smile, “and giving you information of what we know so that you can protect yourselves. I was given the locations of the packs in confidence, and no one knows where they are except for me.”

Harry fell silent, and waited patiently for a response. The Alpha eyed Harry curiously, like one might watch a barking cat—something beneath their level of intelligence that was acting distinctly out of character. Harry didn't like the way the look made him feel, but he didn't dare protest.

“What is Red Moon doing, specifically?” The question came after a solid minute of silence, while the Beta crossed his arms and stepped back, as though he disapproved of the Alpha indulging Harry at all.

“They're constructing a curse that requires them to murder twelve couples in cold blood, and to, um, flay alive a single werewolf under the full moon.” Harry's cheek twitched in disgust, a shiver running through him as the victim photographs played across his mind's eye. “It's a genocidal curse, and if they succeed they'll be able to wipe out werewolves in huge numbers without having to lift a finger.”

Forgetting his professionalism for a moment, Harry lifted a hand to rake it through his hair, feeling the overwhelming guilt at the fact that he had been unable to stop them so far. “They're at ten double murders and they have murdered a werewolf under the full moon already,” Harry looked away as his voice became a little hoarse, and cleared his throat before he continued, “four more people will die if we can't stop it, and I don't want that to happen.”

Harry refocused his gaze on the Alpha, but was careful to not meet his eye. While in human circles this would have been considered impolite, he knew that in werewolf culture meeting his eye would be seen as a challenge, and complicating matters was the last thing Harry wanted to do.

“I appreciate your candour, Harry Potter,” Halim said at last, studying Harry with a careful, calculating eye as he spoke. “We take care of our own, as I am sure you know. We will pass the message on to the rest of our pack. Should we require your assistance—understand me, I say your assistance, and not the assistance of your Ministry—I shall contact you through Ulrich or by your Owl Post.” The answer had not been unexpected, but it was a little disheartening all the same. He nodded his head once.

“I understand Alpha, thank you for taking the time to hear me out,” Halim smiled, and reached out a hand to grasp Harry's shoulder. The limb felt strangely heavy on his shoulder.

“Your mate must trust you implicitly,” he said, his tone warm and complimentary, “to allow you to associate with wolves unknown to him without his presence,” Harry felt himself go a little red at that, and the Alpha chuckled a little. He removed his hand and stepped back, and Harry found that he was struck again by the inequality of werewolf society, at least when it came to personal relationships. Harry hid his disapproval behind a neutral mask, and smiled faintly.

“We trust each other,” Harry said simply, uncertain what else he could say. Halim appeared amused by Harry's words, but he did not speak any further on the matter. The interview was clearly over, and in silence the pair nodded a silent goodbye to Ulrich. Before Harry could protest, the Beta reached out and grasped him by the upper arm, turning him around and steered him from the territory. The moment they'd crossed the territory's magical barrier, they Disapparated, heading for the next territory.

~*~

Harry wobbled on the edge of the top step, shaking off the Apparition while he braced himself for the inevitable clinging-jealous-werewolf attitude he'd have to deal with the second he stepped inside. Normally, Harry found it strangely endearing, but this evening Harry was too exhausted to have much patience for it.

As Harry crossed the threshold Remus appeared almost at once, smiling softly at Harry. “Welcome—” he faltered as his nostrils flared, no doubt smelling the number of strange wolf scents on his person, and Harry held up a hand before he could say a word.

“Not a word, Remus. I know. I've been in talks with werewolf packs all day, of course I'm going to smell like a bunch of werewolves that aren't you. I like it no more than you do, I hope you realize that,” Remus huffed something between a snort and a genuine laugh as Harry finished his little speech, and he loped forward to gather the younger man in his arms.

Harry grinned and reached up to kiss him while he hooked his arms around Remus's neck and pressed himself bodily up against the older man. Remus wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and held him close, breaking the kiss to trail his lips and tongue across the edge of his jaw and down the side of his throat, while his hands moved to his front and slipped under his robe.

Harry groaned, tilting his head back to give Remus easier access, his eyes fluttering shut as Remus deviated from his throat and pressed another kiss to his waiting mouth.

“If we keep this up,” Harry mumbled, breathing heavily as he clung to the older man, “I'm going to embarrass myself and make a huge mess of my work trousers.”

“Explain the part where that's a bad thing,” he replied with a grin, casually sliding his palm across the front of Harry's trousers, eliciting a sharp gasp from the younger man. Harry offered him a mock-glare, though the effect was entirely ruined by the shadow of a grin that twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Well—”

“Master,” a familiar voice croaked, and Harry groaned. “Kreacher has dinner nearly prepared, if yourself and Master Remus wishes to wash up.”

Harry looked over, and was surprised to see that the elf looked genuinely apologetic, whereas before he had seemed determined to keep them apart. Harry reluctantly disentangled himself from Remus, and offered the elf a small smile.

“Thanks Kreacher, we'll be in soon,” the elf bowed low, and disappeared with a sharp crack.

Harry turned to Remus, cracked a small grin and reached out to squeeze his hand once, before disappearing upstairs.

After washing and changing into some comfortable clothes, Harry returned to the main level and they ate in comfortable silence. Remus looked thoughtful, while Harry was replaying his more than satisfactory welcome home over and over in his head. It had left him with a near-painful hard-on, and he was dying for the meal to be over so that he could engage his partner in a more pleasurable activity.

Following dinner, Remus lifted his wand to conjure their nightly pot of tea. Harry struck out his hand and rested it over Remus's to still his movements. Startled, Remus looked up at him with confusion, while Harry smiled faintly at his partner. “What d'you say we skip the tea tonight and make it an...early night?” He cocked a brow suggestively, and bit his lip to stifle a grin when Remus's eyes went a little wide.

“Are you certain?” Remus asked, apparently surprised by Harry's enthusiasm. Harry grinned.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry replied, while Remus looked from Harry's eyes to their hands, and he switched his wand to his free hand to enable him to thread his fingers with the younger man's. He smiled warmly, and lifted his gaze to Harry, who felt suddenly very warm under the intensity of the werewolf's gaze.

Remus circled the table carefully and tucked away his wand at the same time, then reached out to pulled Harry in for a kiss.

Harry coiled his free arm around Remus's neck and parted his lips at once with a soft groan, their tongues tangling together in feverish want. Remus shifted both of his hands to Harry's buttocks, and Harry in turn tangled his fingers in the front of Remus's cardigan, all but trembling with excitement.

With strength that did not befit his stature, Remus lifted Harry easily, and Harry yelped in surprise as he clung more tightly to his partner. His legs instinctively locking around Remus's waist, his eyes wide with surprise and fright.

“Remus, put me down!” Harry's hold tightened, but Remus acted as though Harry weighed no more than a sack of flour.

“Relax Harry, I promise I won't drop you,” he grinned mischievously and began to move, which resulted in Harry clinging even more tightly to him.

“Seriously Remus, this isn't funny, I'm heavy. Put me—” his protests were cut off by a rather passionate kiss, which Remus maintained down the hall, up the stairs, and all the way to their bedroom, where he finally let Harry down. Harry immediately sat on the end of the bed, a hand clutched over his heart while he glared at the older man.

“Never ever do that again,” Harry said while he took several breaths to steady himself, and Remus laughed softly.

“How is it you can fly around hundreds of feet in the air, but you panic when you're lifted not three feet off the ground?” Remus sat down next to Harry, his leg deliberately brushing against the younger man's, and with a slightly devilish smirk Harry shifted to perch in Remus's lap, his knees resting on either side of the older man's hips. He began fiddling with the buttons on Remus's cardigan, but did not immediately begin to remove the garment.

“It's different when there's a chance that you could fall down the stairs and die when you're significant other is trying to be suave,” Harry replied, popping open one of the buttons while Remus chuckled, as though Harry's explanation was absolutely ludicrous.

“I have a werewolf's strength and dexterity; I wouldn't have dropped you,” Remus's voice had trailed off to something closer to a murmur as Harry continued to slowly disrobe him, unbuttoning the cardigan and shirt both before he slipped his fingers under the two garments at the shoulder and slowly pushed them off. Remus shook the two articles of clothing off his arms and tossed them carelessly to the floor then refocused his intense, honeyed gaze on Harry.

“You say that now,” Harry said, voice lowered in volume as he brushed his fingers over the thin scars decorating the older man's chest, “but I think you'll be singing a different tune when my skull is cracked open and my brains are scattered all over the front hall.” His fingers continued to map the scars that decorated his chest, while Remus tilted his head back with a contented sigh, putting most of his weight on his arms while Harry tended to the expanse of scarred flesh before him.

“You worry too much Har—oh,” his words were cut off with a soft groan as Harry's tongue traced one of the thin scars that crossed his left pectoral muscle, tapering off just below his clavicle. Grinning at his success, Harry's fingers idly traced the other scars while he lowered his mouth to his nipple, and twirled the tip of his tongue around it. Remus shuddered delightfully beneath him, and Harry deliberately fidgeted in his lap to brush his erection pointedly against a particular hardness that was pressing into Harry's thigh.

Taking his sweet time, Harry slowly crawled out of Remus's lap as his kisses, licks, and touches went lower, until he was kneeling between the older man's legs. Harry's tongue trailed towards the top of his dark brown trousers and he popped open the top button. He paused long enough to look up, silently asking for permission to continue. Remus gave him a weak nod, breathing deeply with his eyes half closed, almost lost in his arousal.

Harry looked back to the crotch of Remus's trousers, and made quick work of extricating the thick erection from its confines. Harry had yet to suck him off, but he'd more than wanted to after seeing what Remus could do with his mouth. In part, Harry wanted to because it was only fair, given that Remus had done it to him more times than he could count, but the other part of it was he simply wanted to.

Taking a slow breath to steady himself, Harry licked his lips and gave the throbbing organ an experimental lick, then trailed his tongue along the underside of Remus's cock.

At once, Remus hissed and threw his head back, his hips twitching as though he longed to thrust forward, but he tried to hold himself back at the same time. Heartened at his success, Harry closed a hand around the base of Remus's cock, and took the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he swallowed more of it at a painfully slow pace.

His name was whispered above him like a prayer, Remus trembling and panting as Harry continued, pausing for a brief moment when he'd taken in as much as he could, then began to slowly bob his head. Remus's hips continued to jerk feebly as Harry fell into a comfortably rhythm, and he ignored the feeble mutters above him as he tried to deep-throat the man like Remus had done for him countless times before, but his gag reflex refused to cooperate. He returned to the steady bobbing of his head as he hollowed his cheeks, just as Remus said something that Harry couldn't catch, but it seemed that it had been Remus's attempt to warn Harry that he was close, as a moment later he shot his load into the back of Harry's throat.

Not sure what else to do, he swallowed and tried to keep the grimace from his face at the bitter taste. The idea that Remus had willingly swallowed every time he'd sucked him off gave him pause, and he wondered how anyone could actually enjoy that. Harry glanced up to see Remus slouched back against the bed with a look of absolute bliss upon his face, and he couldn't help but swell with pride at the sight.

“How'd I do?” Harry asked as he crawled up to lie next to him, and leaned in to press a small kiss to the corner of Remus's mouth. Remus laughed softly and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders to draw him closer.

“Passable,” he murmured, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head.

“Not even an Exceeds Expectations?” Harry looked up at him and grinned, “I guess I'll need to practice.”

“Mm, I'll be happy to tutor you in the fine art of fellatio,” Harry snorted a little, while Remus slid a hand under Harry's shirt, his rough fingerpads tickling his skin.

He tugged Harry's shirt off and tossed the garment carelessly to the floor. Remus leaned forward and traced the edges of Harry's lips with his tongue, and Harry opened his mouth at once to meet Remus in a heated kiss.

At the same time, Remus's hands trailed down his sides to his jeans, and he hooked his thumbs through his jeans and pants, pulling both garments off slowly. Harry lifted himself off the duvet just enough to help him along and kicked off the garment. He let out an appreciative moan as Remus trailed down his front and paused, his hot breath ghosting over Harry's aching cock.

“First,” Remus said in a low purr, “you need to relax,” he brushed his open palm along Harry's inner thigh as he spoke, making him shiver. “If you are tense, it will be more difficult to get your gag reflex to cooperate with you. When you feel ready, you rotate your jaw like so,” Remus paused to demonstrate, rotating his jaw first to the left, then to the right, while the slow buildup was driving Harry mad with want. A small whimper escaped past his lips before he could stop it, and Remus seemed rather pleased with the minute reaction.

“Then,” Remus rolled his lips downwards, “you cover your teeth like so,” Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as his partner's voice took on an almost comical lisp, “to allow for a smooth entrance,” without another word he descended upon Harry and swallowed his cock whole.

As with every other time, the feel of Remus's hot mouth on him was enough to reduce Harry's brain to mush. His hips jerked feebly, while one of Remus's hands slid beneath him to squeeze at his bum. Harry trembled at the dual sensation, a soft, shuddering groan escaping him as his hips jerked forward again, and Remus hummed his pleasure, as though he was the one getting the blow job, instead of the other way around.

Harry felt Remus's hand on his buttocks begin to wander, and suddenly he felt the older man's thumb brush at his hole, and Harry tensed involuntarily. The sensation had surprised him more than scared him, and he hissed a curse as Remus's hand moved away. Harry wasn't certain he was quite ready for that, but how would they know if they didn't try? His thoughts dissolved into blissful nothingness as Remus's hand slid out from under him and reached for his sac, and the dual attentions paid to his cock were enough to distract him, and in an embarrassingly short span of time, Harry cried out as he painted the back of the older man's throat with his seed.

“And that is how it is done,” Remus said softly, smiling lazily while he stretched out next to Harry, one of his arms draped across Harry's stomach while he came down from his post-orgasm high.

“I'll have to remember that,” Harry murmured breathily as he rolled onto his side and curled up in Remus's arms. Though he wanted to discuss his freeze-up, he was too tired and too spent to do so. Instead, he was quite content to leave the discussion for another time, and as he felt a blanket drape over his and Remus's naked forms, he slowly fell asleep, his head pillowed comfortably against Remus's bicep.

~*~

Harry woke alone the following morning.

For a moment, his brain was foggy and confused, wondering why he felt so damn good. Better than he had in months. It took him a moment to remember last night's activities and his mouth stretched into a wide, almost silly smile. Harry reached for his glasses on the bedside table, which he assumed Remus had put there, given that he did not recall taking them off, and pulled them on just as he heard the soft rush of the shower turning on down the hall.

Still feeling a bit naughty and giddy from the previous evening's activities, he slid out of bed and moved towards the door, intending to join him. Harry stopped short however when something on his night table caught his eye—a small box encased in red velvet.

Uncertain how he hadn't noticed it before, Harry picked it up and flicked it open, the simple diamond ring still resting innocently in the centre of the small box, just as Harry remembered it. He wasn't certain why it was out—it had to have been Remus, as after the last time Harry wasn't daft enough to leave it out in plain sight, and he had to wonder why this time around, he had not been subject to a terrifying show of dominance following its discovery. Harry did not know how he could have found it in the first place, given the charm Harry had placed on it, but whatever the reason, he was relieved that Remus seemed to be a little more level-headed about it compared to last time. It was an enormous weight off Harry's shoulders, and proved once and for all that the bond between them was truly starting to settle.

The sight of the ring still pulled at Harry's heart; though now the primary emotion he felt was regret at what Ginny must have gone through these last few months—what he'd put her through. Harry still loved her, and he felt as though a part of him always would, but he knew now without even the slightest doubt that things had changed, and he'd moved on—completely. Smiling softly at this realization, Harry pulled out his wand.

“Goodbye Ginny,” he whispered as he tapped the box once, and it disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

Setting his wand aside with the same soft smile, he went to join Remus in the shower.
A/N: My first attempt at dirty talk...not sure how well I did. You guys let me know. Thanks for reading! :)
- 20
- 21
- 22
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon