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
- 23
- 24
- 25
A/N: WARNING there is a detailed sequence of violence and gore in this chapter. Probably not a brilliant idea to eat while you read it. (It's about 2/3 of the way through the chapter, if you want to skip it. Bear in mind, when I say gore, I mean gore.)
Chapter 24 - Revenge

“I thought you were supposed to be on Medical Leave?” Remus's asked.

The older man's fingertips brushed over the back of Harry's neck, effectively distracting him from the spread of files and victim photographs that littered the coffee table. Harry's dress robes from Caldwell's funeral lay draped over the side of the sofa, and he sat there in his best black trousers and dress shirt with his tie loosed. Unable to detach his mind from the case that had taken his mentor away from him, he found himself going over the reports for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I know,” Harry replied with a small sigh, his gaze focused on the mess of papers, “I just...Taggert's still out there, I can't just sit here and wait for more people to die because I didn't do something.”

“As I understand it, there's over a dozen Aurors working on this case,” Remus said, sitting at Harry's side, his knee bumping the younger man's gently, “and I do recall Mr Weasley informing me at the funeral that the collected energy from the other ritual murders has been dispersed, so there's no chance of them creating another Nexbolus any time soon. You need to relax. The world won't end because Harry Potter took some time for himself.”

“You don't know that,” Harry muttered, glaring at the papers in front of him. He felt a hand trail up his spine and curl around the back of his neck, then ever so slowly coaxed Harry to shift his gaze from the paperwork to his partner.

Remus brushed his lips over Harry's in a feather-light kiss, then upon receiving no resistance he deepened it, Harry's eyes fluttering shut while his fingertips curled into the fabric of Remus's shirt, uncertain whether he wanted to push Remus away or pull him closer.

“What I know,” Remus murmured against Harry's mouth, “is that you are an incredibly brave and selfless young man who would do anything for anyone at the drop of a hat. Perhaps it is no bad thing to do something for yourself once in a while, like allow yourself some time to rest, to recover...” Remus glanced at the discarded dress robes, “...and to grieve.”

“I know,” Harry said with a frustrated sigh, “It's just...I don't think I'll be able to relax until Taggert is caught. He—”

Harry's words were abruptly cut off with another heated kiss. He groaned softly, and mock-glared at his partner as they broke apart.

“You have to stop doing that,” Harry muttered, “it's very distracting.”

“That's sort of the point,” Remus smiled as he reached up to brush his thumb across Harry's cheekbone in a soft caress, “you need to allow yourself to rest. You're no good to your fellow Aurors if you spend your entire leave stressing about the case, only to come back to work not properly rested.”

“I know, but—” Remus silenced Harry's protests with another kiss. This one more heated than the others, and he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, drawing him close as their lips parted and their tongues tangled together in a messy, desperate kiss. Harry moaned softly, his arms reaching up to wrap around Remus's neck, the contact dissolved his brain to a mass of jelly, and the files scattered over the table were momentarily forgotten.

~*~

“Harry, wake up, we're going to be late,” Remus's voice cut through Harry's peaceful sleep, and he groaned. His back arched, naked skin sliding deliciously against the duvet, his buttocks throbbing in a satisfying well-fucked sort of way. The last thing Harry wanted to do was move.

“It's my birthday party. I'm allowed to be late,” Harry mumbled into his pillow, hugging it to his face as he let out a whine of protest when the blankets were suddenly thrown off him. Shivering a little, Harry peeked out from his pillow and glared at Remus, who was holding his blanket hostage and smiling down at him, as though blissfully unaware of Harry's less-than-pleasant mood.

Harry sat up slowly, though he still clutched his pillow to his chest. Remus was little more than a blurry blob, but in Harry's cranky, half-asleep state, he did not feel inclined to reach for his glasses. A pair of lips caressed his own, effectively distracting him from his irritation, and his eyes fluttered shut as he reached up to rest his hand lightly against the back of his partner's neck.

“Come, on,” Remus murmured, “up you get,” Harry groaned and flopped backward, bouncing a little on the mattress when he landed. He threw the pillow back over his face while he tried to ignore Remus's soft chuckle of amusement. Warm hands encircled his ankles and began to gently slide him off the bed, and as his bum reached the edge Remus casually scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Harry squawked with alarm at the suddenness of the the manoeuvre, wiggling and squirming in an attempt to get down, but Remus held him in place easily.

“Remus!” Harry squirmed again, but his partner merely laughed at his struggling. “We've talked about this. Put me down.” Remus ignored the demand, and instead handed Harry his glasses around his shoulder, still chuckling at Harry's annoyance.

“Are you up now?” Remus asked as Harry accepted the glasses from him and pulled them on.

“Unfortunately,” Harry grumped, then yelped in surprise as Remus shifted his grip and set Harry back on his feet. Harry wobbled for a second, then glared at the werewolf, while Remus crossed his arms and smirked triumphantly. With a small huff, Harry grabbed some clothes and headed off to the loo to wash up.

Harry stepped downstairs fifteen minutes later with his face rearranged into something close to neutral, though he was still a little irritated by his less-than-pleasant wake-up call. Remus was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him, and he swept Harry into a warm embrace. Chuckling a little, he threw his arms over Remus's shoulders and allowed the older man to draw him into a kiss.

“Maybe it is a happy birthday, after all,” Harry grinned, and held more tightly onto the older man. “You know, we don't have to go out,” Harry leaned in and began to pepper kisses along the ridge of the man's unshaven jaw, “I'll contact Ron and pretend I'm sick and we could just—”

“Oh no you don't,” Remus cut across Harry's suggestion, though his protest was rather husky. “I'm not letting your downstairs brain turn you into a hermit...”

“I'm not a hermit if I'm with someone, Remus,” Harry pointed out, to which Remus snorted.

“Don't be smart or I'll have to spank you.”

“Is that a promise?” Harry grinned, while Remus rolled his eyes. Still laughing, he allowed the older man to steer him to the breakfast table. Harry served himself while he casually hooked his foot around his partner's ankle, trying once again to convince Remus to stay in with him. Remus untangled his ankle from Harry's foot and shot him a glare, though it lost most of its potency by the amused smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Eat your breakfast and behave yourself,” he said with a chuckle.

~*~

The Burrow looked exactly as it had the last time Harry had been there, back when he and Ginny had still been together. Wellington boots stacked by the door, chickens scampering across the lawn, a large shed that Harry knew was overloaded with all manner of muggle objects, and the teetering, stacked building itself looked the same as it ever did. Seeing it now, Harry felt a swell of nostalgia, and he couldn't help but smile. It was such a relief to him that Molly had not changed her attitude towards him, despite the fact that things hadn't worked out between Harry and her daughter.

He and Remus had Apparated just beyond the property line, and were heading up the walkway hand-in-hand. Remus was carrying a bottle of dandelion wine under his free arm, Harry hoping the gesture would soften any negative feelings Molly and Arthur may hold against Remus.

Harry felt grounded by the older man's presence at his side, but he couldn't help the nervous twist of his stomach, his mind consumed by panicked thoughts of what Arthur and Molly might say. He knew that Ginny and Ron had filled them in on his sudden relationship with Remus, but this was the first time that they would see it with their own eyes, and the idea that they might reject it—reject him was terrifying.

Seeming to sense Harry's anxieties, Remus squeezed his hand gently, but honoured Harry's wish of keeping the public displays of affection to a bare minimum, and did nothing more. Harry almost wished that he would ignore Harry's earlier request, as Harry's desire to be held by him was almost overwhelming.

Harry swallowed his fear and knocked on the door, and it flew open almost at once to display a slightly harassed-looking Molly Weasley, looking exactly as Harry remembered her. Kind-faced, an apron pulled over her robes, and her red hair pulled back from her face. Her expression shifted to a delighted smile at the sight of him.

“Harry!” She cried while she beamed at him, “it's so good to see you dear, come in, come in.”

She ushered the couple inside and pulled Harry at once into a motherly hug. He returned it, while he subtly kicked Remus in the shin with the back of his heel when he heard a faint lupine growl rent the air.

“It's been a while Mrs Weasley,” Harry smiled as he pulled back from her, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of The Burrow. It had been so long since he'd visited that it almost felt as though he was seeing it for the first time again. Like Hogwarts and Remus, the Burrow always felt like home to him.

“Please dear, how many times is it? You can call me Molly.” Harry laughed to her warm smile, feeling his face heat slightly in embarrassment. It was likely she had asked him this at least a hundred times, but it always managed to escape his mind as he fell back on the deeply ingrained polite terms for adults that the Dursleys had drilled into his head.

“Er—sorry...Molly,” he amended with a slightly embarrassed smile. It still sounded strange to him to call her that, but she smiled warmly all the same.

“Remus,” she said, turning to Harry's partner. She reached out to squeeze his upper arm affectionately, and it appeared as though she wanted to embrace him the same way she had Harry, but seemed to hesitate at the last minute.

“Are you well?” She asked, her eyes flicking momentarily from Remus to Harry, then to their linked hands. But her warm, maternal smile never wavered.

“Fine, thank you Molly,” he smiled in that familiar, placid smile that everyone knew so well, and offered the bottle of wine to her. “We brought this for dinner, Harry mentioned that you were rather fond of this particular one.”

“Oh, dandelion wine! You shouldn't have!” Harry grinned as she looked mildly overwhelmed by the gesture. Molly pressed a light kiss to Harry's cheek and he couldn't help but laugh a little, grateful that this time around Remus did not seem to react to the contact. She turned and motioned towards the back garden, “come along you two, everyone is setting up outside. The kitchen is just too small for fourteen people.”

Out of habit, Remus wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, his hand resting lightly on Harry's hip. The pair moved to follow Molly, but froze when they both caught the way that the Weasley Matriarch's smile became suddenly became rather fixed. Harry felt his heart jump into his throat and he exchanged a look of uncertainty with his partner.

Remus pulled away rather quickly, but Harry caught his hand before he could move away completely, and they laced their fingers together. The disapproval he'd seen in Molly's eyes was not wholly unexpected, but it still stung. Harry looked up at Remus apologetically, and he seemed to understand as he offered Harry a small smile of reassurance.

Outside, their arrival was not immediately noticed by everyone, given that they were too busy watching Ron and George. The pair had apparently transfigured the back garden into an enormous swamp, which they had then ignited, and were throwing various foodstuffs as hard as they could across the flaming expanse, then handed out the toasted tidbits to those assembled around its edges.

Harry could see Bill and Fleur, with little Victoire perched on her father's shoulders. She was giggling and getting sticky, melted marshmallow in Bill's long red hair, who didn't seem particularly displeased by his daughter's antics. Hermione was several feet behind Ron with Percy, talking quietly and shooting her boyfriend disapproving glares. Charlie stood with Ginny, laughing and cheering as they ate their way through toasted marshmallows, crumpets, and bread, while Nott stood next to Harry's ex, looking very nervous. Harry had to struggle to hide a smirk, the Slytherin looked very much like a cricket trapped in a chicken coop. Meanwhile, Arthur was huddled near what appeared to be a muggle barbecue, where he was clearly pretending that he hadn't noticed his children's antics or the enormous, flaming swamp that suddenly took up most of his back garden.

“RON! GEORGE! HOW MANY TIMES?” Ron and George's heads whipped towards their mother, Ron's throw losing its momentum and the crumpet he'd tossed landed in the centre of the flaming swamp, where it incinerated.

“Sorry Mum,” Ron said with a grin that almost looked genuinely apologetic, except Harry could tell he was far too pleased with himself to be completely sorry about his actions.

“Honestly,” she huffed, whipping her wand out and vanished the swamp and inferno with several quick jabs and flicks of her wand, then conjured two picnic tables and arranged them end-to-end. “Is it too much to ask for you two to not try and burn the house down when you come home for a visit? Really.”

While Molly continued to berate her two youngest sons, Ginny circled around the edge of the group and tugged a reluctant Nott along her.

“Relax,” Harry said to the Slytherin as they came within hearing distance, “I have no Skiving Snackboxes on me,” Remus gave him an odd look, while Nott went several different shades of red in quick succession.

“They told you about that?” Nott did not look pleased, while Ginny was staring off in the opposite direction with her lips pressed tightly together, clearly trying to keep herself from laughing.

“Ron seemed pretty pleased with himself about it,” Harry replied, the corner of his mouth quivering a little. His eyes caught Ginny's, and they both turned away quickly to muffle their sniggers.

“Yeah, well, I didn't find it nearly as amusing as they did,” Nott was still rather red, but his gaze fell momentarily to Harry and Remus's linked hands. He looked up at Remus uncertainly, as though he wasn't sure what to say. Harry cocked a brow at him, all but daring him to comment on it, and Nott went a little red again.

“First time I came here was in a flying car. Mad stunts is practically how this family communicates,” Harry said in an effort to keep the topic away from his somewhat unconventional relationship for as long as he could. It wasn't that he was ashamed of Remus, but it was exhausting repeating himself so often. He grinned while Nott eyed him quizzically, as though he was trying to work out whether Harry was kidding or not.

“Well we were liberating you from your evil aunt and uncle's house, so it was for a good cause,” Ron said with a grin as he joined the conversation, while Nott looked a little nervous at his appearance. “All right, Harry? Remus?”

“We're well, thank you Ron,” Remus said with a soft smile, “Congratulations on the Red Moon case finally being closed, I understand it was your partner who received the tip, from what Harry tells me.”

“Er—yeah, I mean, it was all of us, really. I mean, there's still a ways to go before we can completely close it, but the raid was a good start,” Harry couldn't help but smile a little as Ron went rather red under the praise, rambling a little as he went, but Remus's placid smile never wavered.

“I can leave the house with relative assurance that I won't be murdered, so I would classify that as a success,” Remus replied rather dryly, though Harry was the only one who laughed at his comment.

“And relative assurance you won't be murdered in the house either, now that you've given Kreacher his kitchen back,” Harry filled in with a grin while Remus chuckled. He reached up to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders, and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

“I think I'll go see if Arthur needs help,” Remus said as he nodded towards where Arthur was trying in vain to ignite the barbecue with a muggle barbecue lighter, and not having much success.

“Behave,” Remus added with a soft smile as he turned his attention back to Harry, “and enjoy the time with your friends.” Harry's eyes widened a little in surprise at the words, as he hadn't expected Remus to willingly leave his side in such a large group of relative strangers to their bond.

“Er—okay,” in another moment of forgetting where they were, Remus leaned in to kiss him lightly, a gesture Harry happily returned. He released Harry, his movements a little jerky in his reluctance to let Harry go, then strode towards Arthur without looking back.

Harry watched him go, feeling strangely unsettled without Remus nearby. He turned back to the group to see Nott staring at him oddly. Ron was looking distinctly uncomfortable, and Hermione—who had joined the group when he'd had his back turned—looked concerned. Ginny was the only one who wore an expression anywhere near approving, which was a surprise. Oh spectacular, Harry thought, struggling to keep his expression neutral as he looked back to the others, Remus left me with the bloody Spanish Inquisition.

“What?” He asked, having a feeling that he knew what was coming.

“It's—it's true then?” Nott asked him in a stage whisper, “I mean, you and Professor Lupin?”

“I've been standing here for nearly ten minutes talking to you while holding his hand, and then we kissed,” Harry replied, his brow furrowed a little with annoyance, “what do you think?”

“But isn't it a bit weird?” Nott continued, while Ginny's mouth twitched, as though she was debating whether or not to shut him up. “I mean, he's old enough to be your—”

“—Considering who he was friends with, I'd rather you not finish that sentence,” Harry cut across him with a small frown, while everyone looked slightly uncomfortable at Harry's cold tone of voice.

“Look,” Harry said quickly, while he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “it started as an...accidental situation, kind of. But he's been nothing but good to me, and I really care for him. I'd rather you not bring the age gap into it, because at the end of the day it doesn't matter to me if he's twenty years older than me or a hundred,” Harry paused, frowning a little as he looked over towards Remus, silently praying that Arthur wouldn't accidentally blow up Remus with his latest muggle toy, and then turned his attention back to the group.

“I know it's a little unconventional, but he...” Harry felt an involuntary smile spread across his lips, while he locked his gaze with Ginny's. She nodded once, as though giving her permission for him to continue. “...If I was to accidentally find myself bound to anyone, I'm glad it was him.”

Harry suddenly felt his face grow warm, and he felt as though he had been placed under a spotlight, as the other four stared at him. Only Ginny and Ron wore expressions in the realm of approval, Hermione still appeared concerned, while Nott merely looked confused.

In that moment, seeing the approving smile that graced Ginny's lovely face, Harry felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He cared for her, this was true, but his relationship with her had been very different to what he now had with Remus. It wasn't possible to compare the two—despite the number of times he'd tried to—and he was relieved that she seemed to understand that they were absolutely over, and they could go back to being just friends.

“I'm happy for you Harry,” Ginny said earnestly, and the others whipped around to face her, varying looks of surprise on their faces. Clearly, she had been the last person they'd expected to approve of Harry and Remus's relationship. “You've been through hell your whole life, and if you've found happiness with Remus. If you're happy, who cares how much older he is than you?” Her eyes shifted from one person to the next, the look on her face all but daring someone to contradict her.

“Anyway,” Ron added with a grin, “I'd much rather an ex-professor over say...a Slytherin? Ow!” He winced as Ginny swatted him, and even Nott joined in on the laughter at Ron's expense.

~*~

Harry whiled away the afternoon by catching up with his friends, feeling as though he'd seen precious little of them of late. This wasn't completely due to Remus monopolizing his time, but more the strange growing-up thing, where their lives suddenly became too busy for them to hang out anywhere as much as they used to.

Remus seemed to be striving to give Harry his time with his friends and kept his distance, but intercepted him on his few trips back to the festivities from the loo. Harry was all too happy to sneak off with him to let the werewolf to re-stake his claim in private. He knew that this was something that the other guests would likely not understand, if they were caught. They did rather a poor job of hiding what they had been up to, his peers—Ron, in particular—giving him a knowing look as he returned, though if the older adults had noticed, none of them commented.

Arthur's attempt at grilling had resulted in chicken that more closely resembled charcoal briquettes. It seemed that Molly had anticipated this result, and had ready a backup main course for their dinner. The group happily dug into a sumptuous meal of roast potatoes, garlic chicken, salad, and a generous measure of the wine he and Remus had brought along.

Remus sat at Harry's left at the table, while Ron and Hermione sat to his right, and he tried to divide his time between his two best friends and his partner. Harry was acutely aware of the stares being shot their way, in particular from Molly and Arthur. The disapproval in their eyes—people he genuinely considered to be his family—was much harder to ignore than anything he'd experienced at the hands of Rita Skeeter's smear tactics. Remus seemed to sense Harry's shift in mood despite his efforts to hide it, and he covered Harry's hand with his own under the table, and gave it a small squeeze.

“Don't let it get to you,” Ron murmured softly to Harry, the comment causing him to whip around and stare at Ron in surprise. “Mum's just worried. She thinks you were forced into it, and after she sees how you two are together, she'll get over it. Just give her some time.”

“Easier said than done,” Harry muttered, turning his hand under Remus's so that their palms touched and their fingers could thread together. He stabbed sullenly at a potato on his plate, painfully aware of the eyes burning into him.

After a rich chocolate cake adorned with pieces of golden nut brittle and a marvellously off-key rendition of the Happy Birthday song, Harry was subject to another hour of being the centre of attention as he was showered with gifts—much to his embarrassment.

From Hermione, he received a book about nonhuman bonds, which caused Harry to roll his eyes but thank her all the same. From Ron and George he received a number of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, and from the other Weasley children he received a number of small trinkets and sweets. He thanked everyone graciously after each gift that he opened, while he fought to keep his self-conscious flush at being so spoiled to a bare minimum.

His last gifts, from Ginny, Arthur and Molly were just as thoughtful. Ginny had given him a snitch that the entire Holyhead Harpies team had signed (including Ginny herself) in minute writing. From Arthur and Molly he'd been given another Weasley jumper for his collection, as well as a tin of homemade toffees. Even Nott had gotten him something, looking highly embarrassed as he passed Harry an envelope containing a voucher to Quality Quidditch Supplies, for which he thanked him with a small chuckle, and Nott seemed relieved that Harry hadn't taken the mickey out of him over it.

Though Harry had been adamant that Remus not get him anything, he could not help but feel a little disappointed when he offered up no small parcel to him. After many a disappointing birthday he could hide this rather well, but the look in Molly's eyes told him that she had not missed it either.

Harry stood and stretched. The sweet smells of Summer that surrounded him made him feel relaxed and content. Before he could be stopped by one or both of the Weasley elders, he reached down and lightly tugged on Remus's hand. He looked up at Harry, the question written all over his face, while Harry grinned.

“Come for a walk with me?” he asked, “I don't feel like leaving just yet,” Remus caught the unspoken request, and he smiled and stood while he nodded to Harry's request. Before anyone could intercept them, the pair quickly slipped off into the labyrinth of the orchard.

Harry ignored the pointed looks that followed them into the trees, their fingers linked together and Harry leant comfortably against Remus's side as they walked, slowly disappearing from view of the others. Apple blossoms adorned the trees around them, bathing the orchard's paths with their sweet fragrance, and the paths themselves were adorned with fallen blossom petals. It was rather picturesque, and Harry couldn't stop smiling.

As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Remus released Harry's hand and threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close. Harry couldn't help but laugh, stumbling to a stop and throwing his own arm around Remus's midsection. He pressed his cheek against the older man's shoulder, getting as close as he could to Remus without it hindering his gait too badly.

“It felt weird,” Harry said after a few moments of silence, “not having you as close by today, I mean.” His arm tightened around Remus, just as the older man mirrored the gesture at the same moment, giving Harry's shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“I believe certain Weasleys would be more than a little uncomfortable if we behaved as we do at home around them,” Remus commented, and Harry snorted. He bowed his head forward a little as they relaxed their embrace and continued their walk.

“I didn't mean performing fellatio among the cabbages, you know,” Harry said as Remus barked a laugh. “I just mean...I got so used to being attached at the hip with you, so to speak, so it was strange to not have you as close by.”

“Well,” Remus's tone of voice had taken on a throaty quality, and Harry grinned. “There are no Weasleys around now, perhaps we should make the most of this time alone.”

He turned a little as he spoke and Harry followed his movements, allowing Remus to pin him to the trunk of a nearby tree. Harry lifted his arms and linked his hands together at the back of Remus's neck, his mouth stretched in a wide grin.

Remus covered Harry's mouth with his own, their lips parting at once and the kiss dissolved into a mess of teeth and tongue. Harry groaned softly as he arched his back and pressed himself bodily into his partner. Remus's hands moved to Harry's hips and held fast to him, and upon feeling a certain hardness pressing insistently against his lower stomach, Harry felt a thrill of excitement go through him.

“We're going to utterly traumatize whoever comes looking for us, you realize,” Harry breathed the comment, tilting his head back as Remus's tongue dragged along his jaw and the side of his throat.

“Let them come,” Remus murmured, his cool breath tickling over Harry's slightly dampened skin, “they might learn something.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut as one of Remus's warm hands snuck under the front of his T-shirt, though they flew open at almost the same time as several things happened at the same time.

“Stupefy!”

A sudden, unfamiliar voice cried the spell, and Harry felt Remus slump forward, then fell into a heap at his feet. Harry cried out in surprise, but before he could move two people grabbed his arms and pinned them at his back. Harry looked up from his unconscious partner and hissed in recognition at the man that stood before him.

“Taggert,” Harry growled, narrowing his eyes and jerking his arms, but the man's two cronies held him fast. Two more Red Moon grunts stood to either side of him, their wands trained on Harry.

“Mr Potter,” he purred as he strode forward, reached into Harry's pocket, and withdrew his wand. “I'll just be holding onto this for you, I think.” He laughed as Harry struggled against the men that held him, and gasped sharply as his arm was twisted sharply against his back, stilling his movements.

“You can't—someone will hear...they come looking for us when we don't return,” Harry hissed the words, wincing at the angle in which his arms were being held—he felt as though one wrong move might cause his shoulders to dislocate.

“That is doubtful,” Taggert said with a smirk, ignoring Harry's growl of anger as he watched the man cast a nonverbal silencing charm around them with Harry's wand.

“You see Mr Potter,” Taggert continued as he paced back and forth in front of Harry, twirling the holly and phoenix feather wand in his hand, “you seem to be under the foolish impression that you can utterly dismantle my life's work, protect monsters instead of wizards, turn your back on your own kind...and get away with it.”

He turned to face Harry, his lip curled in his rage, and in a whirl of red robes, the man's own wand had been drawn, and he pressed it sharply into the side of Harry's throat, digging the tip painfully into his windpipe. Harry stiffened, his fear freezing any protests before they made it out of his mouth.

“You will pay dearly for what you have done,” Taggert snarled, the conviction in the man's words made Harry tense, though he tried to not let his fear show on his face. “You will pay for this, Harry Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth, uncertain if he wanted to beg or argue, but he had no chance to do either as a whispered incantation shot a jet of silver-white light from Taggert's wand, and Harry's world dissolved into darkness.

~*~

“Give me the damn potion.”

“But Sir, I thought the point was to make Potter suffer?”

“And he will. But it won't be any fun if he happens to faint partway through. Now give me the fucking potion. I want him to stay conscious for this.”

The coarse, agitated voices bled into Harry's mind as he woke, though his curiosity at who might be speaking was hindered somewhat by the agonizing throb of his head. The pain was so intense that Harry felt as though his skull may split if he opened his eyes. He groaned softly, just as a large hand grabbed his jaw with bruising force and forced his mouth open. A bitter, viscous fluid spread across his tongue, making him cough and sputter.

Slowly, the pain began to recede, and Harry's vision cleared. Without the pain to focus on, Harry realized that he was tightly bound to a chair in a dark room that he didn't recognize. Sitting directly across from him was Remus, bound in the same manner as he was, though looking significantly more battered, with the entire left side of his face an alarming shade of black and blue, and swollen in such a way that suggested that his jaw was likely broken. The sight of his partner so injured made Harry feel sick at his own helplessness.

“Remus...” the broken whisper escaped him before Harry could completely think it through, and almost at once an elbow slammed into his cheek. Harry's head snapped sharply to the side, and he gasped in pain as the skin split. A warm trickle of blood streaked his cheek as he turned his head back around, his eyes narrowed in fury at his attacker. In the background, he could hear the faint sound of Remus's familiar, protective snarl. The sound was not missed by the Red Moon grunts, as another struck Remus in a similar fashion, though he did not seem to feel the pain, his eyes firmly fixed upon Harry's assailant.

The Red Moon grunts were almost entirely hidden in shadow, and Harry was unable to identify them. He knew Taggert was here however, and that did not bode well for Harry or Remus. If they managed to get out of this alive it would be nothing short of a miracle.

“The traitor wakes,” the smooth voice of Taggert echoed through the small room, and Harry froze in his bindings.

Soft footfalls approached him, and slowly Brom Taggert stepped out of the shadows. He stood up straight, his arms folded behind his back, with an expression of disgust contorting his features. He regarded Harry in silence for several long minutes before he spoke.

“I will never understand,” he began, his voice soft, but still unnervingly calm, “what would push a person such as yourself, a person of such goodness, the veritable beacon of light and hope in the wizarding world for so many, to throw away your loyalty to your own race and consort...with a beast.” Taggert spoke in a voice so soft it was near a whisper, but the words burned into Harry's mind as though the man was yelling. Harry gritted his teeth, his rage bubbling up in his chest, but for the moment, he kept silent.

Taggert stepped closer, and crouched down so that he was at eye-level with Harry. Harry felt a fresh wave of panic rush through him, but he refused to let any of it show on his face.

“I wonder...” Taggert continued, his voice lowering even further in volume, so much so that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him, “it's said that you were abused as a child at the hands of your muggle relatives. Perhaps such treatment led you to believe that you could not trust your own kind, thus causing you to ally yourself with dangerous beasts?”

“Shut up,” Harry hissed, his hands trembling in their bindings as his control on his emotions snapped.

“Just shut up. Whether or not I was abused by my blood relatives has nothing to do with who I choose to be with. Remus is a good man—” Harry hissed in pain as he was struck across the face again, the flesh tearing further under the brass knuckles Taggert struck him with.

“He isn't a man at all! The fact that you cannot even see how far you have strayed from what is right and good is what concerns me. It deeply concerns me, Harry,” The care in which Taggert spoke was met with a glare. Taggert ignored the look as he stood, Harry's blood dripping off the implement threaded over the his knuckles. Harry could hear the low, threatening growls of Remus from behind him, no longer impeded by the Red Moon grunts attempting to silence him, but Taggert paid it no mind.

“I was uncertain what would be a fitting punishment for one such as you,” Taggert said, still speaking to Harry in that same soft tone of voice, while Harry struggled to reign in his emotions. He needed to stay calm and clear-headed if they were to have any chance of getting out of this, but his panic was running wild, making the task next to impossible.

“Should we kill the werewolf first?” Taggert asked, his eyes flicked to were Remus was bound as he spoke, and Harry felt his panic mount further, “or his bitch?”

Harry felt as though he'd swallowed a block of ice at these words, and his gaze whipped up to meet his captor's, his eyes wide and fearful. The growls raised in volume, and Harry winced as he heard the sound of skin coming into contact with skin, and Remus went suddenly silent. Harry knew that crying out or attempting to bargain for Remus's life would be playing right into their hands, but keeping his mouth shut was the most difficult thing he had ever done.

Taggert seemed to come to some sort of decision as he reached for his belt and withdrew a pair of ordinary muggle pliers. Having a feeling that he knew where this was headed, Harry instantly curled his hands into fists.

“I believe Mr Potter must be taught a lesson for his disloyalty to his own kind, don[t you think?” He asked, turning his attention to his cronies, who laugh darkly at Harry's expense. “Hold him.”

At Taggert's words, hands descended on Harry and forced his knuckles to unravel. They pinned his hands flat against the arms of the chair and Harry's eyes bulged with fright as he tried to brace himself for pain as the cold metal pinched the nail of his left index finger and pulled.

Harry's screams reverberated off the walls and drowned out every other sound in the tiny, windowless room. One after the other, his fingernails were pinched and ripped from their bed. Taggert pulled them slowly, agonizingly, and Harry was barely aware of the hot tears that streaked his cheeks as Taggert worked. Harry's agonized cries became progressively more hoarse, and he tasted the sharp tang of blood on his tongue as his throat was shredded by his screams.

After the tenth one, Harry was released and his head slumped forward, tears and sweat mingling together on his face in a thin sheen, his fingers a bloody mess. Every small brush of fabric or gust of wind against the nail beds burned, and Harry breathed shallowly in an effort to get a handle on the pain.

His head felt as though it weighed several tons, but he lifted it just enough to keep his eyes on his partner. Remus's eyes were bulged in anger, his teeth gritted, and his muscles rigid, and he sat so stiffly that it was as though he had been Petrified.

A hand carded through Harry's hair and he flinched, the small reaction eliciting an amused laugh from Taggert. He wound his fingers through Harry's thick locks and yanked his head up, forcing Harry to meet the foul man's eyes.

“I think for such a prodigious kill, I should have some kind of souvenir, don't you think, Mr Potter?” He asked, and Harry swallowed thickly as Taggert produced a small dagger with a blade made not of metal, but obsidian. Harry was quite certain that he would be sick at the sight of the small implement—there was only one thing that obsidian blades were ever used for. Scalping.

One of the men grabbed Harry by the jaw and tilted his head back, while the other pushed his hair away from his forehead. A low, frightened whine escaped him before he was able to stop it, and tears stung his eyes.

“No,” he whimpered, his breath escaping him in short trembling gasps, “don't, don't do this—please...” his pitiful pleading dissolved into terrified sobs as the blade bit into the flesh of his hairline.

The pain became so blinding that Harry found himself falling silent as he stared blankly at the dark ceiling above him. Tears continued to streak his cheeks while blood dribbled down and into his eyes, partially blinding him as the knife sliced through his flesh with surgical precision. The knife followed Harry's hairline, dropping down to encase his famous scar, then the incision met its starting point in a complete circle that enclosed his head of hair.

A pained wail escaped from Harry as fingers dug under the flesh of his scalp, and with slow, precise movements and the aid of Taggert's specialized knife, Harry felt his scalp—hair, scar, and all—peel away from his head.

The pain was too much, and as Harry was released his head bowed forward and he vomited directly into his lap. It was overwhelming, and he felt as though his body was shutting down, no longer able to cope with the pain.

Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse hit him, but he couldn't tell who had cast it. Tears and blood dripped from his chin as hoarse, gurgling cries escaped him, while the familiar sensation of glass in his veins assaulted him over and over.

Everything began to bleed together, and Harry had begun to pray that they might kill him soon. It was too much; he no longer cared whether he lived or died—he just wanted it over.

Harry had no idea how much time had passed; it could have been minutes, hours—even days. He was no longer able to tell, and he struggled to lift his head, longing to see Remus. He was dying, he could feel it, and he refused to let himself go from this life without laying his eyes on the man he had shared so much with—the man he loved—one last time.

His gaze lifted, and Harry was startled to see that Remus was physically shaking in his bindings. Remus's eyes were wide, deeply bloodshot, and rolling wildly in their sockets. His hands were opening and closing into dual fists repeatedly, and his head was tilted as far back as his neck would allow while he hyperventilated.

The Red Moon grunts had been focused on Harry, and did not seem to notice the fit Remus seemed to be having. A wail escaped the werewolf that was definitely not human, but not entirely lupine, either. Somewhere in the back of Harry's weakened and muddled mind, he knew full well that it was nowhere near the full moon, but despite this fact, he watched as the cloth of Remus's shirt split, dark grey and tawny fur beginning to sprout across his exposed skin.

The Red Moon members realized too late what was happening. Remus's bindings snapped apart and the chair that held him splintered as the change reached completion. The enormous werewolf snarled furiously, its blind anger evident in every movement and vocalization. Moony did not wait, and lunged directly at Taggert.

The high, terrified shrieks of the Red Moon head filled the tiny room, while the other members screamed and tried shooting curses at the werewolf. They bounced off his deeply magical body, not even managing to singe the fur. None of them appeared brave enough to get any closer to the enormous creature, and Taggert had abruptly stopped screaming.

Moony looked up from the partially eviscerated body he had been tearing into, and with another enraged growl he attacked again and again, taking down each Red Moon member without mercy. He tore open their bellies, ripped into their internal organs, and snapped bones like kindling. Their pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, Moony too far gone for anything to register beyond the need for vengeance upon those who dared harm his mate.

Moony cornered the last Red Moon grunt, his lip curled and snarling, the normally tawny and grey fur of his muzzle darkened with blood, and deep red saliva dripped from his quivering jowls. Moony leapt forward and closed his jaws over the screaming man's neck, and with a snap like a gunshot the room fell silent.

Harry watched the enormous creature with gradually blurrier vision as it approached, dragging the corpse with him, and dropped it at Harry's feet. Slowly, Moony's amber gaze softened from enraged to mournful. He whined, gently nudging his enormous furry head against Harry's shoulder.

“Moony,” Harry whispered hoarsely, trying to lift his head and smile at the werewolf reassuringly, but he hadn't the strength for even such a small gesture.

Harry heard the soft crunching of bone, and a naked Remus Lupin was suddenly kneeling before him, his face streaked with blood, sweat, and tears.

“Harry,” he breathed, his voice hoarse as though he'd been yelling, “oh God, Harry,” his voice broke as a terrified sob escaped him.

“Help me,” Harry said, his words barely a whisper, his form trembling as he struggled to stay conscious. The ropes fell away from his chest, wrists, and ankles, and he tumbled forward off the chair, incapable of holding his own weight. Strong arms caught him, Harry whimpered and shivered, his vision swimming as he tried to focus on Remus.

“I have you Harry,” he whispered, holding onto him with a gentle, but firm embrace. “Just hold on, you're going to be fine. Hold on, Harry—”

Harry wanted to reassure Remus, he wanted to stay awake and let his partner believe that he was better than he felt. It had all been too much however, and the last thing he saw was Remus's anguished face before he slipped into unconsciousness.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon