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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter 22 – Fever Pitch

As Harry's days with Remus turned into weeks, he couldn't help but notice how his love life had begun to mirror the Red Moon case—in the sense that both seemed to be stuck in stasis.

The summer pressed on, there was still no movement from Red Moon. No new deaths, no missing persons cases—nothing. They were stumped as to how such a group could go from frequent double-murders to complete inactivity. It unsettled Harry more than a little, and he couldn't help but feel that something big was on the way.

Harry's love life seemed to be frozen in a similar state. Harry wanted to go further with Remus, but his attempts had lead to no more than hasty hand jobs and mind-blowing oral sex, but nothing further. Harry could not deny that he was still nervous about the act itself, but Remus had misinterpreted this anxiety as Harry not being ready to go further, instead of normal virgin jitters. The lack of progression left them both feeling more than a little dissatisfied, but Remus seemed to be as emotionally stunted as Harry was, and neither knew how to properly address it.

Harry could say the only thing that had vastly improved over the last few weeks was Kreacher's attitude. He did not know what had sparked the sudden change in the elf, but he was now as polite and courteous with Remus as he was with Harry, and no longer complained when Remus kicked him out of the kitchen to cook dinner in his stead. Harry was pleased, though he did sometimes miss the creative insults the elf would mutter towards Remus when he thought no one was listening.

It was a soggy day in mid-July when Harry arrived at the office, assuming it would be another day of frustrating dead ends, only to find Ron loitering outside his office. Ron looked up and grinned as he approached, Harry's mouth twitched into a slight half-smile.

“All right?” he asked, feeling a faint twinge of guilt over the fact that they had seen precious little of each other in the last few weeks—though for once, not because Harry had been avoiding him. Both of their supervisors had had their noses to the grindstone over this infuriating case, and even with so many Aurors on it, they'd made little headway in finding out where Red Moon had scampered off to.

“Great,” Ron said as he grinned in an exaggerated way that told Harry he was nervous about something. “You?”

“Fine, thanks,” Harry said as he leant against the wall next to the office door and crossed his arms across his chest. “What brings you a whole two doors down?” Ron chuckled, well aware that despite their close quarters, they'd been too busy for more than a passing word here and there recently.

“Your birthday's coming up, and Mum wanted to throw you a party like she usually does, and I said I'd ask if you'd be okay with that.” Harry was surprised, given that he had been somewhat forced to break it off with Ginny last September, but he was flattered all the same. He'd half expected Molly to be cross with him for how things had ended, but perhaps his surrogate son status outweighed her hopes that he might become her son-in-law.

“I'd love to, I'm sure Remus would too, but...” he paused, and frowned a little at his longtime friend, “what about Ginny?” The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward between them, and even after their 'talk', he could not deny that he still felt a little weird at the prospect of seeing Ginny with Remus at his side.

“I don't think that'll be an issue. She's been seeing—er—someone new.” Harry couldn't help but smile at how red Ron's ears went, but he was more surprised how the news did not bring out any feelings of jealousy in him, and instead he felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was for Ginny to pine or wallow following their split, and the fact that she was seeing someone new was great to hear.

“Yeah? Who?” Ron's face took on a distinctively sour look at the question.

“Theodore Nott.” Harry almost choked on his own saliva, his reaction coming out as a sputter of disbelief as he stared wide-eyed at Ron.

“You're having me on. Ginny, with the son of a Death Eater?” He shook his head a little and tried to laugh, but Ron remained stony faced. “Seriously?” Harry couldn't help the small smirk of amusement that graced his features, “your Dad must be thrilled.”

“Percy told me that he practically hit the roof when she brought him over to meet Mum and Dad the first time,” Ron said with a chuckle, his mouth splitting into a small grin, “he's all right, I guess. It seems like he's being good to her, but still—Slytherin.”

“He must feel right at home in a houseful of Gryffindors,” Harry cocked an eyebrow at Ron, whose ears had begun to reddened again at the comment. Harry bit back a laugh as he asked, “what did you do?”

“Me and George slipped a couple dozen puking pastilles into his tea the first time he visited with the whole family,” Ron's tone was almost wistful, as though he was recalling a precious memory. “Made a right mess of our bathroom and Ginny almost murdered us.” He grinned, “he's taken a leaf out of Imposter Moody's book and won't accept drinks from any of us any more.” They both barked a laugh, just as Auror Caldwell's head poked out of their shared office.

“Are you going to stand in the hall all day or get your arse in here? Some of us have work to do.” Harry quickly sobered up, and nodded at his superior.

“Coming. Oh, and Ron?” He turned back to his friend as he stepped halfway into the office, “For my birthday? We'll be there.”

~*~

Harry pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head in an attempt to shield his face from the rain. On any other day, Brighton would have been beautiful, but in the hazy grey of the downpour Harry was currently stuck in, it was miserable. He looked down at the crumpled piece of parchment in his hand, and hoped that he wasn't wasting his time in tracking down this werewolf family.

Though Greyback's information had been good, and Ulrich's presence had kept him from being killed on sight, all the larger and mid-sized packs had point-blank refused any help that came from the hands of the Ministry, even if it was someone like Harry who was bound to a werewolf. It wasn't surprising, but it was certainly disheartening that Harry had no way to help them directly. The fact that they took the warnings seriously was a small mercy, and it showed in the way that there had been no werewolf deaths since he'd begun going from territory to territory.

Now that he'd moved on to contacting lone wolves and their spouses he was not as concerned at being attacked by an Alpha, and had forgone Ulrich's 'protection'. He did not dislike the man, but it had become clear over the weeks spent with him that he was interested in Harry, and the effort to be doubly careful that he did not give the werewolf the wrong idea had been stressful, to say the least.

Harry wove through the streets, and could practically feel the crackle of magic across his skin as he passed from muggle Brighton into an area dominated by wizards. The houses were jumbled together with small, old-fashioned looking shops and pubs, and it reminded Harry of Diagon Alley in many ways. He stopped before a small shop called Wiz-Bangs: Quality Wizarding Fireworks Since 485CE. Above it was a tiny flat, and Harry circled the shop to a rickety staircase, which he followed up to the front door.

On the landing were two small potted flutterby bushes that almost seemed to be wilting under the torrential downpour. Harry took a slow breath to steady himself, and knocked firmly on the door.

At once the curtain on the inside of the door was pushed aside and he saw a pretty young woman peer out at him, and Harry pulled back his hood enough so that she could see his face. Her eyes widened a little, and she hastened to unlock the door.

“Mr Potter?” She asked, staring at him with wide blue-grey eyes. “How can I help you?” Her voice was high and girlish, and her dusky blonde hair was pulled into a loose braid. Harry smiled at her, hoping to put her mind at ease.

“Mrs Deidre Powell?” She nodded once, “I'm here on behalf of the Auror Office. You're not in any trouble, but we believe that you and your wife might be in danger, and I was hoping to discuss it with the pair of you,” Harry said. The speech was one he'd repeated over a dozen times recently, and he hated how it made him sound less like himself and more like some no-name Ministry grunt.

“A-all right, please, come in,” Deidre said as she stepped aside, and Harry smiled warmly at her as he stepped across the threshold, using a quick drying charm to keep from utterly drenching her front hall.

“Thank you,” he said as he smiled at her again, and she nodded a little, still staring at him with a look of wide-eyed shock.

“Hon?” Another voice joined them, and another woman stepped into the hall, “who is—” she cut herself off when she saw Harry, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. The werewolf of the pair was tall, a few inches taller than he was, with dark skin and chocolate brown eyes shot with gold. Her thick braided hair was pulled from her face by a red bandana, and she was dressed casually in earthy tones of green and brown.

“Lyssa Powell?” Harry asked by way of greeting, but the question was met with a warning growl that he knew well. Certain that he had mere seconds before the woman lost her patience, he began to speak quickly.

“Please,” Harry said as he lifted his hands, palms facing her to show that he meant her no harm. “I'm not here to hurt you,” he began, while the woman who had answered the door looked between the two of them nervously. “I'm here because you and your wife may be in danger, and I just want to offer my help.”

“Say you piece and get out,” Lyssa growled, never taking her eyes off of Harry. She extended an arm and Deidre hurried to the other woman, who pulled the human against her side protectively. The command she seemed to hold over her partner was slightly unnerving, but before Harry had a chance to open his mouth, a soft thundering of footsteps sounded from down the hall, and a pair of twin girls appeared there.

“Mummy, Mummy!” Cried one of the girls, hurrying forward with a plush toy shaped like a crup dangling from her hand, while her sister hung back, holding onto a small plush kneazle. “Whaths going on? Are you and Mama in trouble?” She reached for the werewolf's hand, the little girl's amber eyes reminding him painfully of Remus as he watched the exchange.

“Mercy, Grace,” Lyssa said, a warning growl in her voice that made her daughter stop short, “go with Mama and check on your brother.”

The little girl popped her thumb in her mouth at the sound of her mother's tone, and both girls offered up no complaint as Deidre took them both by the hand and led them back down the hall, murmuring too softly to the children for Harry to catch the words. As they waited, he kept his hands out where the werewolf could see them, having a feeling any movement towards the pockets of his robes could seen as a threat. Within five minutes Deidre had returned, and settled against Lyssa's side again. The respect he saw in her eyes when she looked at her partner left Harry with no doubt about who was in charge in this household.

“I'm assuming you have heard of the group calling itself Red Moon?” Harry asked without preamble. He was certain he'd already more than worn out his welcome, as far as Lyssa was concerned. She inclined her head once while she narrowed her eyes into a glare. “Over the last year it has been cutting a bloody swath through the werewolf community, tracking down and murdering werewolf-human couples. We are concerned that you two may be targeted, and we would like to offer you, your wife, and your children sanctuary until Red Moon is brought to justice.” Harry spoke quickly, but made certain that he spoke clearly, so that there would be no misunderstandings concerning his intent or how very real the threat was. Deidre looked deeply frightened, while Lyssa's hard expression did not change.

“Why would you care? I have not known the Ministry to bat an eyelash at the death of a werewolf,” she growled, baring her teeth at him while Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at the statement. He could guess that perhaps this woman was not as in touch with her instincts as some of the other werewolves he'd met over the last months, as it came as a shock that she could not smell Remus on him.

“I am bound to a werewolf myself,” he said by way of explanation. “I care for him very much, and I would do whatever I could to protect him from harm. I am certain you feel the same about your partner,” Harry did not miss the way her arm tightened around her mate at his words. “We do not want to add your names to a registry, or track the werewolf populations, or whatever else the Ministry has tried to do to your kind in the past. All we want is to keep you safe from these people, I swear.”

The werewolf studied him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Harry could hardly blame her; the Ministry had given the werewolf community very little reason to trust them. Deidre seemed to believe him, but her werewolf companion did not seem convinced. “We shall discuss it, and be in touch should we decide to accept your offer. Good day.”

Harry recognized the dismissal and had no desire to test the woman's patience. He murmured his thanks and stepped back outside, drawing up his hood as he went. He headed down the steps and out of sight of the street before he paused and drew out a quill and a small scroll of parchment with a list of names on it. Next to Deidre & Lyssa Powell he made a little note, then stowed it back inside his robes. While he sent up a small prayer, hoping the couple accepted his help, Harry checked the next name on his list, and Disapparated to Cardiff.

The miserable weather followed Harry around for the remainder of the afternoon as he visited one couple after another, and as he went he began to feel more and more demoralized. Those who did not not chase Harry off their property outright were content to give Harry a, “we'll let you know,” answer that clearly alluded to a 'no'.

What's the point of being an Auror if no one will accept your help? Harry wondered miserably as he Apparated to the end of the street leading up to Number Twelve, knowing he'd need the extra walk to calm down before he got inside. The rain that had chased him around all day had finally cleared up, though the ground was still a soggy, muddy mess. His head was bent forward and he glared at the pavement as he walked, which was unfortunate, as from his vantage point he did not see the enormous, hulking man that approached him.

Harry felt someone grab him by the neck of his robes, and dragged him into the shadowed alley between number seven and nine. He cried out in shock, and grunted as he was thrown into the brick wall. He looked up at his so-called attacker as he drew his wand, stopping short as he recognized the man before him.

“Greyback!” He hissed, but kept his wand clutched firmly in his hand. “What the hell? You scared me half to death!”

The werewolf growled low in his throat, his eyes narrowed at Harry. “I was under the impression you and yours would protect my kind if I disclosed their locations to you.” Harry blinked in confusion, his voice momentarily caught in his throat.

“We're trying, but not many werewolves want our help to begin with. What's happened? Was someone attacked?”

“Your Auror that came to Azkaban with you will likely tell you the same come the morning, but one of the lone wolves I am in regular contact with has been murdered. She and her wife are dead, and her children are traumatized,” the anger and hurt in Greyback's voice was a little surprising, as Harry was still growing used to the fact that Greyback was not the cold, heartless monster he'd once assumed him to be.

“We took them to the pack,” Greyback continued, his voice still little more than an angry growl, “it's where they belong. You are to tell your Aurors that they are not to try and remove them from my territory.” His eyes narrowed into a withering glare, and his arm shot out, closing tightly around Harry's throat. He choked and gagged, struggling as he felt his feet lift from the ground. The move was so sudden that Harry did not have a chance to even try and defend himself, his wand tumbling from his hand from the force of the manoeuvre.

“You will stop these people Potter,” Greyback snarled, tightening his hold to illustrate that it was not an empty threat, and leaned in to hiss, “or I will. Believe me when I say you do not want it to come to that, because you will pay dearly for your ineptitude.” Harry gasped around the hand crushing his windpipe, and his fingers clawed feebly at the heavily muscled forearm. Greyback dropped him, and he crumpled to the ground at the werewolf's feet. Without another word, Greyback Disapparated, leaving Harry alone in the alley.

Harry gingerly brushed his fingers over his throat, wincing a little as he did so, certain that he had the beginnings of a hand-shaped bruise there. More worrying still was the implication that another couple had been murdered, bringing the death toll up to twenty-three. One more pair, and Red Moon would have everything they needed for their mass murder plan to come to fruition. With a small groan Harry forced himself to his feet and hurried down the street, only slowing when he reached the walkway up to the door of Number Twelve.

Harry held a hand up as he stepped over the threshold, stopping Remus in his tracks. “Bruise salve first,” he rasped, wincing as even speaking made his throat ache. “You can do unspeakable things to me after.” Remus eyed him quizzically, his nostrils flaring and his expression darkening a little. No doubt he'd be able to scent Greyback on him amidst all the other werewolf scents from those he'd contacted today.

“Bruise. Salve,” Harry said a little more firmly when Remus did not immediately move. His voice seemed to snap Remus out of his Jealous Werewolf daze, and with a quick shake of his head, he moved towards Harry.

“Come sit down, I'll get it for you,” Remus rested a hand against the centre of Harry's back and guided him to the sitting room, sitting him down firmly on the sofa while he flicked his wand with his free hand, summoning the salve without ever leaving Harry's side.

Remus knelt before him and prodded at Harry's throat gently, causing him to wince a little from the dull, throbbing pain. He tilted his head back a little to give Remus better access, and a moment later Harry felt the cool salve brush against his injured flesh. He closed his eyes as Remus massaged it into his skin, the feel of the cooling salve and Remus's hands on him helped him relax, despite the horrid news that had been shared with him not ten minutes earlier. As Remus worked, the scent of Rue and Cedar wafted up to him, and slowly, the pain began to fade.

Harry lowered his head when Remus had pulled away, and opened his eyes as he lifted a hand to brush his fingers over his throat. The skin felt dry and soft, as though nothing had been applied, and the pain was completely gone. Harry smiled at Remus as he reached for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before he leaned in for a kiss.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled back, “that's loads better.”

“Now will you tell me what happened?” Remus's hand was tense in his own, and the look Harry saw in his eyes was enough to make him worry that Remus might allow his Protective Werewolf instincts to guide his actions, thus leading him directly into trouble.

Instead of answering, Harry crawled into the older man's lap, effectively straddling him with his knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed him, taking his time and relishing the taste of Remus after such a long and frustrating day. “Only if you promise to not lose your head and take off looking for vengeance on my behalf,” Remus rumbled in his throat, a sound Harry could only describe as a purr.

“And if I don't?” Remus asked, his voice husky with desire—though more likely the lust stemmed from his need to re-stake his claim, rather than any other reason. Harry smirked and leaned in for another kiss, taking his time and squirming with delight as he felt Remus's arms link around his waist, holding him there.

“I'll do the cunty dissatisfied wife thing and withhold sex,” Harry murmured with a grin while Remus barked a laugh, and he kissed Harry again. True they hadn't had sex yet in the strictest sense of the word, but Harry had no idea how else to describe their enthusiastic oral sex without grumbling in frustration at Remus's apparent reluctance to go further. Harry just wished he would get over whatever was holding him back and just fuck him already.

“You couldn't withhold sex if your life depended on it,” Remus murmured against Harry's mouth, pulling back after nipping lightly at his bottom lip. Harry just barely managed to swallow the moan of frustration at the loss.

“Now,” Remus said, shifting back to a more neutral tone, “tell me why Greyback accosted you.”

It didn't come as a surprise to Harry that Remus had known who had attacked him, even more surprising was the calm and collected tone in which he posed the question. Harry had half-expected Remus to go tearing after Greyback in a rage The mention of the Alpha made Harry's feelings of helplessness surrounding the whole Red Moon case come crashing down around him. It was beginning to feel more and more like stopping them was impossible.

“There was another attack,” Harry began, his heart constricting a little with guilt at the thought of it. “He was furious that we failed to protect them. He threatened to go after Red Moon himself if we don't do something soon,” Harry thought it best to omit the threat of what Greyback promised to do to him, should they fail. Harry paused, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with a loose thread on Remus's cardigan. “I don't blame his behaviour, but it's hard to help people who don't want my help and hate me for being a Ministry Wizard.”

“That isn't your fault Harry,” one hand began to run up and down his back as he spoke, “you can only help people who allow you to help them. You can't hold yourself accountable for being unable to protect someone who refused your help because of their pride, or some other silly reason.”

“I know,” Harry heaved a soft sigh, “it's just frustrating.”

The overwhelming depression at Greyback's information followed Harry around that evening like a bad odour. Throughout dinner and into their quiet evening routine Remus did not say a word, but Harry was not oblivious to the worried, but thoughtful glances he frequently shot Harry's way.

“Harry,” Remus said suddenly, setting down his teacup and reaching for his hands, the voice and movements snapping Harry out of his daze.

“What is it?” He asked, a little alarmed by the strangely intense look Remus was giving him. Instead of answering, he pulled Harry in for a gentle kiss, sweeping him to his feet at the same time. When he finally broke the kiss Harry was left rather breathless, and he could all but guess what was coming, if the hardness pressing against his thigh was any indication. Would this finally be it? Harry was dizzy with anticipation while he waited for his partner to speak.

“Allow me the honour,” Remus murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against the hollow of Harry's throat, “just for tonight, of letting you forget.” One hand moved to caress Harry's cheek, and Harry shivered with desire at the contact. He didn't understand Remus's sentiment exactly, but he was not so thick as to not realize what he was hinting at. Finally, Harry thought, and leaned in to kiss him.

Taking that as an answer, Remus led Harry upstairs. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest so hard and so loudly, he was almost certain Remus would be able to hear it. For once, his increased heartbeat was in anticipation instead of fear, and it took all of his strength to keep from running straight into the bedroom with Remus in tow.

The deliberately slow pace in which Remus moved was almost infuriating, but at least he wasn't carrying him—which was a relief. At long last they made it to their bedroom, and Harry paused just long enough to close the door.

Harry kissed him, both from the swelling of emotion and lust that filled him, and to shut Remus up. Harry knew him well enough that Remus would want to stop and discuss this show of emotional healing from his Christmas debacle with his friends, and Harry would much rather move on.

Seeming to understand the unspoken sentiment, Remus kissed him and began to shepherd Harry towards the bed, stopping only when they'd reached the edge, the backs of Harry's knees bumping firmly against the mattress.

Harry shifted back, Remus following his movements until they were half-on, half-off the bed. Remus broke the kiss long enough for them to climb up properly, then the older man was on him again. He coaxed Harry's mouth open with lips and tongue, kissing with slow, languorous movements while one hand snaked under his T-shirt and slowly began to ease the garment off.

The barely-controlled haste in Remus's movements became slightly more obvious as Harry lifted his arms up to help him remove the garment, and the quick, final yank he employed to remove it dislodged Harry's glasses quite spectacularly. Chuckling, he pulled them back on his face, and the warm look that he saw on Remus's face made his heart flutter in a way he could not recall ever feeling before.

Harry reached up, his thumb trailing across the older man's cheekbone, and Harry found that he had no idea what to say—what he could say. It felt as though his voice had caught in his throat, the onslaught of emotions that rushed through him so varied and intense that he could not begin to name what he was feeling.

Remus saved Harry from speaking by leaning in again and kissing him gently, his left hand resting against his sternum, then trailed slowly down his front. Harry arched his hips in an obvious hint, and Remus chuckled a little, indulging Harry as he popped the buttons on his jeans open. As with everything else Remus had done throughout the evening, it was painfully slow, and it took great strength on Harry's behalf to keep himself from crying out, get on with it!

At last the last button was loosed, and Harry took it upon himself to shimmy out of his jeans and pants, as well as his socks. He eased back on the blankets, trying valiantly to ignore Remus's soft, amused chuckle at his clear impatience. Instead, he arched back up and kissed Remus just as softly as Remus had kissed him, and tugged gently at the front of the older man's cardigan.

“Come on,” Harry murmured against his mouth, “I want to see you.”

“Then see me,” Remus murmured just as softly, “undress me.”

Something in the request made Harry tremble, and he reached forward to begin unbuttoning the garments he wore, while he marvelled at the fact that Remus hadn't died of heat stroke—it had to be at least twenty degrees outside, how was the man not dying in a wool cardigan and long-sleeved shirt?

Harry pushed both garments off Remus's shoulders, his skin hot under Harry's hands. The shirt stopped at Remus's elbows, and he stood to shed his trousers and discard the top garments at the same time. Harry grinned and shamelessly allowed his eyes to rove over his partner's naked form, taking in every part of him with a hungry gaze. He felt his cock twitch at the sight, and he nearly moaned out loud. Remus did not miss the reaction, and smirked in a very un-Remus sort of way as he looked on.

Remus crawled back onto the bed, his slow, deliberate movements almost predatory as he stared down at Harry, his eyes hungry with desire. Harry lay back and grinned as Remus climbed on top of him and captured his lips in a heated, domineering kiss.

Harry squirmed beneath him experimentally, and moaned at the sound of the soft rumble of a growl that escaped the werewolf. Remus needed to dominate him. The knowledge was strange and exciting at once, but each move of his body, each brush of his mouth was slow and cautious, clearly struggling to balance what the wolf in him needed, and what the man wanted.

Despite this clear werewolf need, Harry was more relaxed than he had expected to be when faced with such a situation. They'd come so far since the incident, and Harry knew that the bond had calmed enough that now it did not matter no matter how far gone Remus went, Harry would be able to call him back.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed quite content to kiss Harry into oblivion instead of giving him anything that resembled some kind of release. Harry whimpered and arched his hips in another obvious hint, though otherwise he kept his body still.

“I want you,” Harry breathed as the kiss broke, “please,” Harry all but whimpered the word, having no idea how to make his consent any clearer.

Easing back a little, Harry lay slack and panting beneath the werewolf as Remus trailed his hands slowly down Harry's sides, and stopped at his hips. Harry whined plaintively, arching his hips slightly, and grinned when Remus descended upon him once more, his tongue twisting with Harry's while Remus ghosted his hand over his aching prick.

Harry whimpered into the older man's mouth, arching his hips in an effort to garner more contact and friction, but Remus merely chuckled and moved his hand further away. Harry had begun to contemplate spitting a desperate, scathing remark at his partner for all his teasing, when Remus broke the kiss abruptly and murmured the two words Harry had been waiting to hear: “Roll over.”

Harry obeyed at once, turning onto his stomach and pressing his cheek into the mattress, and tried to keep his mild fear off his face. No matter how much he wanted this, he could not deny that he was still nervous. He heard Remus puttering about in the night table drawer on his side, then he pressed a gentle kiss between Harry's shoulder blades. “Relax,” he murmured softly against Harry's skin, “I won't hurt you, I promise.”

Remus grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and eased it under Harry's hips, then began to plant soft kisses along his spine. A slick finger began to trace the cleft of his arse, and Harry's breath hitched in surprise. Remus gently eased Harry's thighs apart, murmuring words of reassurance as he went and ever so slowly, the digit moved to Harry's virgin entrance. Remus swirled his finger against the tight pucker of muscle, Harry's anticipation and nervousness both mounted, and with careful, slow movements, Remus gently slid the finger inside.

Harry gasped, surprised by the sudden invasion. He was struck more by the strangeness of the sensation than any actual pain, and he nodded at once to indicate that he wasn't hurt, and just as slowly Remus slid it in to the knuckle. He allowed it to rest inside Harry for a moment, the curled it forward, and it brushed against a particular spot inside him.

Pleasure radiated through Harry at once, and he gasped sharply. “Oh God,” Harry breathed, his hands clenching into fists as he clutched at the duvet, while he heard the soft sound of Remus chuckling behind him. He slid the finger halfway out, and back in just as slowly, angling it to brush against his prostate again, eliciting another cry from Harry.

He added a second finger and gave Harry a moment to grow accustomed to it before resuming the slow movements, scissoring his fingers apart with every alternate thrust as Remus prepared him for what was to come.

After several long but deeply pleasurable minutes, Remus removed his fingers completely. Harry whimpered at the loss, though almost at once Remus shifted, and the tip of his cock brushed against Harry's entrance. Remus gripped tightly to Harry's hips, and very slowly began to slide inside him.

Harry's breath hitched, and his hold on the blanket tightened. The sensation burned slightly, as Remus's cock was much thicker than a pair of fingers ever could be. At his vocalization Remus paused, and as the burning faded into the background he gave his partner a small nod, indicating he could continue.

Remus slid all the way into Harry, with consistently slow and cautious movements, while Harry in turn marvelled how something could feel so strange and so right at the same time. His arse felt almost uncomfortably full, but at the same time, he loved the feeling—much more than he ever imagined that he would. With the same caution he'd used in preparing Harry, Remus began to slide out of him, then thrust back in, his motions a little shaky, like a tightly coiled spring being held in place.

Harry moaned and clutched tightly to the blanket beneath him as he moved his hips somewhat awkwardly, following the older man's thrusts, while his own cock dampened the bedspread with his precome. The vocalization spurred Remus forward, and his thrusts gradually began to speed up. Harry grunted his approval, lost in the dizzying sensation as Remus's cock brushed his prostate with every alternate thrust.

Remus's thrusts sped up and little by little became more erratic, while Harry gyrated his hips in time with his partner's thrusts, rutting himself against the pillow beneath him, his breath escaping him in feeble grunts and moans of pleasure. It took considerably less time than Harry had expected, his orgasm staining the pillow and his stomach, while Remus came a moment later, painting Harry's insides with his seed.

Panting, Remus slumped on top of Harry, and Harry felt his quickly cooling semen squish uncomfortably against his skin. They lay in the sweaty, sticky afterglow motionlessly for a moment, both breathing deeply as they came down from their respective orgasms. At last, Remus slid out of Harry, leaving him feeling strangely empty. He rolled onto his side and Harry immediately shifted into the waiting embrace, and sighed blissfully when Remus's arms wrapped around him.

“That was amazing,” Harry breathed, his eyes closed while he pressed a light kiss to Remus's chest, too low to reach the man's mouth, and having absolutely no desire to move.

“I'm glad it meets with your approval,” there was a sleepy amusement in Remus's tone of voice, and Harry grinned, curling up closer to him, while Remus grabbed his wand and waved it lazily, cleaning up the sticky mess and conjuring a blanket over both of them. Harry could not recall the last time he'd felt so calm, so at peace.

True to his word, Remus had allowed Harry to forget, at least for a little while. The mind-blowing sex had taken up the space in his mind that was usually clogged up with the stresses of his job. The peace it brought was something Harry had sorely needed, and somehow Remus seemed to have known that. In his near-sleep bliss, Harry did not have the strength to utter his gratitude, but Remus seemed to understand, a protective arm draped over him and a peaceful smile on his face as he finally allowed sleep to take him.

~*~

True to Greyback's word, a file was dropped on Harry's desk the moment he turned up to work that morning. He opened it and grimaced at the sight before him; he'd seen the same mortal wounds inflicted on all the other victims, but no matter how many times he saw them, they were no less unpleasant. Recognizing Lyssa and Deidre Powell in the photographs made him feel sick; he could not understand why, but their wounds seemed more viciously inflicted than the ones they'd seen on the previous victims. Knowing that they were almost at the twelve double murders that they needed for their plan to work made it even worse, and Harry was once again overcome with guilt at his heretofore inability to stop it.

“You don't seem overly surprised by this development,” Caldwell observed, still standing over Harry at his desk.

“A certain infamous werewolf broke the news to me last night.” Harry replied, flipping through the file to see if there was anything new to be garnered from these two latest murders. “I was kind of hoping he was exaggerating to shake me up, if I'm being honest.”

“He didn't hurt you, did he?” The concern in Caldwell's tone caused Harry's head to snap up in surprise, but frowned at once at the look he saw in her eyes. It wasn't concern—it was hope. Hope for an excuse to toss Greyback back in Azkaban. He was getting so tired of that attitude, but he didn't bother to address it. At the moment, they had more important things to worry about.

“Nothing disfiguring,” he replied in an offhand sort of way, returning his attention to the file, “he was right, though, we need to step up and stop this. We don't have a whole lot of time left.”

“And where do you suggest we start, Potter?” Harry cringed a little at her tone, “no leads to speak of, save a few children so emotionally scarred that most of them have yet to regain their speech, and using Legilimency on a child would be far too damaging.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but at the same moment Ron burst into the room, a little red-faced, as though he'd been running. “Harry—Caldwell, we need to go, now. We got an anonymous tip on our end, and it looks like it's the real deal.”
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon