Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18438 -:- 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
- 24
- 25
- 26
I had a crazy busy weekend which involved a spontaneous road trip, so I didn't have as much time as usual to edit this chapter. Any major errors feel free to point them out to me. One more chapter after this, and it'll be the end...of book one. Definitely not the end of Remus and Harry's adventures :D
Chapter 25 – Healing

BREAKING: THE FALL OF RED MOON

The body of the notorious Red Moon leader, Brom Taggert was found yesterday (31 July), along with four Red Moon underlings. All five individuals were confirmed deceased on site, victims of a vicious werewolf attack. This was following their abduction and violent assault of Trainee Auror Harry Potter and [Name Redacted].

The terrorist group known as Red Moon was founded at the end of the Second Wizarding War. During He Who Must Not Be Named's reign of terror, the werewolf population skyrocketed, and fuelled by prejudice and fear, Red Moon sought to quell the spreading Lycanthropic 'disease'. Taggert was once quoted as referring to the spread of Lycanthropy was not unlike the muggle disease known as HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus. A disease of the blood with no known cure. Highly contagious, though as far as St Mungo's Healers are aware, wizards are immune to it.).

In the last year, Red Moon has been the focus of a special task force of Aurors, assigned to the case following a string of mysterious werewolf murders.

“They were attempting to commit magical genocide,” says Senior Auror Mahamari Sahir, one of the Aurors assigned to the case early on. “It was a special curse involving the ritual murder of twenty-five people. [Details redacted]. One of our Trainee Aurors had put together the idea that it might not be random killings, but a spell of some kind. From there, we were able to put together a criminal profile, and we were able to more accurately determine where they might strike next.”

Earlier this month following an anonymous tip, fifteen Aurors organized a raid on the Red Moon headquarters. Many high-level members had been captured, but the bloodthirsty head, Brom Taggert escaped. He met his demise less than a week later, ironically, at the hands of a werewolf.

The identity of the werewolf has been withheld, but it is known that Trainee Auror Harry Potter and another had been brutally tortured at the hands of Taggert preceding his untimely death. Most mysteriously, despite the time of the month being a waxing moon, the remains of Taggert and his men show signs of a fully transformed werewolf attack.

“Werewolves turn on the full moon, everyone knows that,” says Rohm Keegan, of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “However, there have been rare cases of werewolves turning outside the full moon. Many of the secrets surrounding werewolf magic are closely guarded by the larger packs, and it is not information that they have ever shared with the wizarding population. Even human mates of werewolves know very little of its properties, and precious few werewolves are willing to come forward and further our study of it. At this point, we can only speculate about what may have sparked this transformation at the wrong phase of the moon. Some Academics believe that the ability to turn at will outside the full moon is something that only Alpha wolves are capable of, while others believe that a change of this nature occurs when the werewolf in question is has need of it—primarily as a means to protect.”

With so little known about Creature Magic, it is very difficult to ascertain what sparked this transformation. Was the werewolf in question an Alpha wolf, or was their transformation sparked by their desire to protect Harry Potter? Clearly there is more to these transformations than the typical Full Moon transformations, given that the werewolf in question caused no harm to the Trainee Auror in their wolf form.

According to inside sources, the werewolf will face no criminal charges, and has been awarded an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for his protection of the young Auror.

Harry Potter and [Name Redacted] are currently recuperating at St Mungo's Hospital, and are expected to make a full recovery.

Lilah Silver
Special Correspondent

Harry finished reading the two-week-old article and handed the paper back to Remus.

“I'm surprised Kingsley managed to keep your name out of it,” Harry whispered, his voice still incredibly hoarse, and his knobbly, bandaged fingers made holding the newspaper incredibly difficult..

“Special favour for bringing down Taggert and saving your life,” Remus replied as he took back the paper. He wedged it onto Harry's nightstand, which was overloaded with tokens of his friends and admirers; from bouquets of flowers to enormous boxes of chocolates and other sweets. Remus's tone was muddled between his usual calm and a bitter anger. Harry couldn't blame him; even if Taggert deserved what he got, killing was never easy.

Harry eased his heavily bandaged head back onto the pillows, and reached out for Remus's hand, which he surrendered to Harry at once. Since waking up a handful of days earlier, Harry was extremely reluctant to let Remus out of sight, the phantom fear that Red Moon wasn't really finished refusing to leave his mind. Despite the vague reference in the paper, Remus's injuries had been incredibly minor compared to Harry's. His broken jaw and various contusions had been mended in about a minute, whereas Harry was lucky to be alive.

Harry brushed his fingertips over the back of Remus's hand, and hated that he couldn't feel his partner's skin through the potion-soaked gauze. The healers had promised him that he would be well enough to go home soon, but soon seemed like a painfully long time when he was confined to a bed. His fingertips and scalp were in a considerable amount of pain, but the few glances he'd caught of himself in the mirror did tell him that he was healing, though much more slowly than he would have liked.

The skin on his scalp had more or less regenerated, thanks in large part to the horrific potions he needed to ingest, as well as a thick, strong-smelling salve that was massaged into the thin, papery skin twice a day. It was rather odd to see himself bald, but the healers promised that his hair would be back to its usual untidy mess before long.

“Good afternoon Mr Potter, Mr Lupin,” the cheery Healer, Healer Stephens stepped into the private room, a tray of food in her hands. Both Harry and Remus offered up light greetings, and Harry struggled to ignore the disapproving look that crossed her features when her eyes fell upon their intertwined hands. Under normal circumstances he would have said something, but he was simply too exhausted to bother.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as she set down the tray on his side table, and Harry wrinkled his nose. A great many things were different between the wizarding and muggle worlds, but both seemed equally incapable of producing edible hospital food. Today's menu was something that may at one time have been edible, but if the smell coming off it was any indication, it would not be a pleasant dining experience.

“About the same as this morning,” Harry replied as she changed his bandages with several flicks of her wand. Harry grimaced as the old bandages were peeled from his scalp and the new ones were applied. It was no longer painful, but the thin skin was still highly sensitive.

“Your scalp is looking better,” she replied as she fastened the purple-tinted bandages shut. “Let us know at once if it begins to itch, that will be a sign that the follicles have repaired and your hair is starting to regrow.”

“I will,” Harry offered her a weak smile, feeling his heart skip a beat as the woman strode out of the room while determinedly not looking at Remus, her eyes telling him of her disapproval of him. Harry frowned, but his partner did not seem overly ruffled by the brushoff.

“Come on Harry,” Remus's voice cut through Harry's discontented thoughts, and he turned his head to see the older man cutting into his meat for him. “You need to eat,” Harry opened his mouth to accept the morsel he offered, still feeling slightly awkward about Remus helping him eat. With his fingers still thickly bandaged, he couldn't manage cutlery on his own and as such had little choice in the matter, but it still felt strange to be fed like a child.

“I can't wait to get out of here and eat something that doesn't taste like Hagrid's cooking,” Harry muttered thickly around a mouthful of Salisbury steak, while Remus chuckled softly.

“All in good time. Though I can't say that taking care of you falls into the realm of a bad thing,” Harry felt his face grow warm at Remus's words, and the older man seemed quite pleased by his reaction.

Being at Harry's side ever since he'd woken up, helping him eat, keeping him occupied by reading to him or just talking, it was like he'd become a completely different person. Now that Red Moon had been completely shut down, Remus had allowed his instincts pertaining to the bond between them run wild, and he seemed quietly ecstatic at the idea of tending to Harry so completely, despite how awkward Harry felt about it.

“That's the most wholesome kink I've ever heard of,” Harry replied with a soft laugh, while Remus pressed his lips into a thin line, though he couldn't tell if the older man was annoyed or amused by his comment.

“I'm saving the ones we can never ever tell Molly Weasley about for after you've recovered,” he said with a small smirk of amusement. Harry grinned at the thoughtand opened his mouth to respond in kind, but a sudden clearing of someone's throat distracted him, and he looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing at the door. Hermione looked mildly concerned, while Ron looked like he was fighting the urge to laugh.

“We interrupting something?” Ron asked sweetly while he stepped further into the room.

“Not at all, come in,” Harry said as he watched them step inside, then turned back to Remus to accept another bite of the horrific meal he had to eat. He could hear the soft tut of disapproval from Hermione, but he'd gotten better at ignoring her judgmental reactions. His throat had begun to burn from all the talking he'd been doing, and he motioned to a bottle on his night stand, which held a thin electric blue liquid. “Remus, could you...?”

“Of course,” he said as he reached for the bottle and a tiny glass—not unlike a shot glass in shape, and filled it with a measured dose. Harry tilted his head back slightly and parted his lips, allowing his partner to pour the potion down his throat. The effect was instantaneous, the sensation of a cool coating covering the sores of his shredded throat, and easing the pain enough for him to talk in low tones without as much discomfort. Harry smiled gratefully at him, and reached out for one of Remus's hands, feeling reassured by his presence, as well as his touch.

The physical contact seemed to upset Hermione, but thankfully she didn't say anything. On a normal day Harry would have no issues shutting down her unfounded accusations and worries, at present it was far too exhausting for him to bother.

“How are you feeling?” Ron asked while the pair sat down next to Remus. Ron maintained an unruffled, relaxed attitude, while Hermione continued to look troubled.

“I'm getting there,” Harry replied with a small smile, his voice still just barely above a whisper, though thanks to the potion it was no longer painful to speak. “They keep telling me I can go home soon, but they can't seem to tell me when soon actually is.”

“They probably just want to make sure there won't be any lasting damage before they discharge you,” Hermione said reasonably, though there was a strange lilt in her voice that made Harry more than a little uneasy.

“I know, I'm just...I dunno, restless.” Harry exchanged a look with his partner, and Ron's snort of laughter was badly hidden by a hacking cough.

“I'll bet,” Ron said after he'd recovered, his mouth quirked into a lecherous, amused grin. Hermione looked properly scandalized by the comment, and Remus merely chuckled, neither confirming nor denying the ginger's obvious hint.

Remus stood suddenly, gently extricating his hand from in between Harry's. His eyes went wide, mildly panicked by losing contact with his partner, but he cradled Harry's chin gently in his hand and brushed a gentle kiss across Harry's lips. “It's all right Harry, I'll be right back. Visit with your friends, I'll be just outside for a moment.”

“All right,” Remus smiled to Harry's consent. He gently released his hold on Harry's chin, turned, and strode smoothly from the room.

Harry watched him go, feeling mildly nervous at not having his partner in sight. It still had not completely registered with him that Red Moon was gone, and the idea of those people attacking Remus where Harry could not protect him was a terrifying thought.

“Oh Harry, I don't like this,” Hermione's hushed, anguished tone of voice drew Harry out of his anxious thoughts. He turned to her while Ron hissed at her furiously under his breath.

“Don't like what, Hermione?”

“What this bond has done to you!” She looked almost tearful as she spoke, and it did not escape Harry's notice how Ron had inched away from her, as though silently telling him that he did not share his girlfriend's opinion on the matter. “You're completely dependant on Remus, you went back to him after what he did to you last winter, and now you get freaked out if you're apart for more than thirty seconds!” She paused to take a deep breath to steady herself, then barrelled forwards, “It's not healthy Harry, you can't do this anymore.”

“Weren't you the one who told me at the start of all this that this was an unbreakable bond?” Even with his voice still so badly damaged, the low, dangerous tone was clear as day. Harry continued before she had a chance to interrupt, “I am dependant on Remus, especially right now, because there is a limit to what I can physically do on my own.”

“I can't hold a fucking knife and fork, Hermione. He's helping me, he's not trying to control me, or hurt me, or whatever other ridiculous theory you have stomping through your brain. If it makes you feel better, I could always ask him to stop helping me. I mean, starving to death is fine as long as I have my dignity, right?” Harry said as he held up his heavily bandaged hands as evidence.

“But Harry—” her feeble rebuttal was cut off almost at once. He was tired, his fingers hurt, and Remus being out of his line of sight had pushed his stress levels to the absolute limit. More than anything else, he was fed up with people judging his relationship with Remus.

“Shut up. I owe Remus my life. I—I love him,” Harry felt a flush rise in his cheeks as his tongue seemed to stumble over the word, and he quickly pressed on. “If it hadn't been for Remus, I wouldn't be sitting here now, I'd be three floors down—in the Morgue. He saved me, he brought down a dangerous fanatically racist group with nothing but his teeth. He's a hero, and even without this bond, you could never convince me to leave him. Now, I want you to drop it. This conversation is closed, and I'm not going to repeat myself every two months when you see something between us that you don't approve of. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but under his hard gaze any protest she may have had seemed to die in her throat. She closed her mouth, bowed her head slightly, and nodded.

Remus made more noise than was probably necessary returning to the room a moment later, which caused Harry to suspect he may have heard all or part of his little speech. His reappearance warmed Harry's heart, and he clutched a little more tightly to the hand that slipped between both of his. Hermione stared at their clasped hands for a long moment, but she didn't comment, for which Harry was deeply grateful.

~*~

The first time Harry had seen himself without his bandages, he had been on the cusp of commenting on the fact that it would be weird to see himself without his scar. However, when the last of the bandages had been pulled away, he looked into the hand mirror he held and gasped.

His scar was still there.

“We can't explain it,” the Healer explained apologetically while Harry prodded at the thin white scar that encircled his scar and scalp, almost afraid to touch the old mark Voldemort had left on him. “As soon as the skin started to grow back, the scar reappeared. We consulted with an expert on curses, and they explained that curse scars aren't simply a physical abrasion—they go deeper than that. It was a rather complex explanation, and I can refer you to them if you'd like more information.”

“No, it's okay,” Harry said with a soft sigh as he set down the mirror. He'd been looking forward to people not gawking at his forehead everywhere he went, but apparently that was not to be. “Thank you.”

“If you start feeling any pain please let the Healer on duty know,” she said kindly, offering his shoulder a gentle, apologetic squeeze before she left the couple alone. Remus seemed to sense Harry's disappointment, and he leaned in to kiss him gently.

“You've gotten along fine for twenty-one years with your scar,” Remus said softly, squeezing Harry's hands gently, “and curse scars are tricky things. They're not easily removed.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Harry muttered, slipping one of his hands from Remus's to prod at it, wincing a little. The skin was still very tender. “I just sort of liked the idea of not being so easily recognized where ever I go.”

~*~

During Harry's time in hospital, he'd been privy to a flood of visitors. Molly and Arthur visited almost as often as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny did, though despite their efforts to be supportive of him, it was clear that they still did not wholly understand the relationship he and Remus shared. Harry was uncertain if this was simply their desire to not want to understand it, or genuine confusion about the nature of their bond. However, after seeing them together, Harry tucked up in the hospital bed, and Remus attentively tending to him, he saw that their opinions had slowly begun to shift.

“Harry dear,” Molly said in an undertone when Remus had stepped out for a moment, “Ronald tried to explain to me about your...relationship, but I can't imagine what a man his age would want with someone so young! You can't possibly think that this is healthy, do you?”

Harry frowned, and looked upon the kind face of Molly Weasley, who genuinely had her heart in the right place, despite her misdirected worries. He felt very much like a broken record, and not for the first time, he resigned himself to parroting details of the bond that were common knowledge, refusing to speak of anything private that Remus would not want him to share.

The words did not seem to placate Molly very much, but the sympathy he saw on Arthur's face told him that he might have a private talk with his wife at a later point. He, at least, seemed to understand that it was an accidental bonding.

It was another ten days before Harry was finally allowed to leave hospital. His fingernails had regrown pink and tender, and a light dusting of short, prickly hair covered the top of his head. His reflection these days often reminded him of tough action heroes from many of Dudley's American military films. Harry was given a number of lotions and salves for his head and hands to encourage hair growth and help strengthen his nails.

“...And if you start feeling any irritation,” Healer Stephens said for what felt like the hundredth time, her entire demeanour shifting from Professional Healer to Mother Hen in a matter of seconds, “I would like you to come back straightaway.”

“I will, I promise,” Harry said with a small smile, “thank you for everything, I really appreciate it.” She beamed at him.

“It was a pleasure, Mr Potter.”

~*~

It had been an exhausting couple of weeks, and Harry all but cheered when they passed the threshold of Grimmauld Place. He linked his arms around Remus's neck and pulled him in for a tender kiss.

“God, it's good to be home,” Harry murmured against Remus's mouth, and he felt the low thrum of the older man's soft chuckle.

“Come on,” Remus said while he curled an arm around his waist, “let's get you settled in.”

Harry bit back a soft groan; that hadn't been quite the welcome home he'd been hoping for. He'd been stuck in bed for nearly a month and he had some energy to burn, but it was clear that Remus was still in Mother Hen mode as he gently shunted Harry towards the sitting room, and all but forced him down onto the sofa.

“I feel like I might be repeating myself,” Harry began, reaching out to catch Remus's hand as he moved to walk away, “but if you start mothering me again, I'll hex you.” Harry tugged gently on his hand, encouraging Remus to sit with him, “I feel fine, so you can stop worrying.”

“You don't exactly sound fine,” he remarked, giving in to Harry's silent request and sat at his side, chuckling when Harry glared. His voice was still rather hoarse, but he could actually speak at a regular volume, which was a massive improvement.

“I feel fine,” Harry repeated, coughing once in an effort to clear his throat, but it did little more than irritate the still-healing abrasions.

“Hmm,” Remus arched a brow, and Harry glowered at him again. In an effort to prove a point, he crawled into the older man's lap, his knees resting on either side of Remus's hips, and leaned in to kiss him.

Harry felt Remus freeze under him, then slowly he relaxed, easing into the kiss while he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him flush against him. He groaned, arching his hips to grind himself into the werewolf, and Remus abruptly broke the kiss.

“Oh no you don't Mr Potter,” he murmured, his voice husky, “you were told that you are not to over-exert yourself, and nothing you are about to suggest will lead to actual rest.” Harry let out a low whine of frustration, and rested his head on Remus's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Harry mumbled, not exactly feeling that sorry, “I'm just a little...restless.” Remus's rough, careworn hand brushed Harry's cheek, smiling up at the younger man in a way that made Harry feel delightfully warm. He eased Harry in for another kiss, though it was softer and much more delicate than the one they'd shared mere moments before.

“All in good time,” Remus whispered, his breath tickling Harry's dampened lips, “you'll be back to your old self before you know it.”

~*~

Despite Harry's insistence that he felt fine, Remus seemed terrified that he might somehow break him, and he was so infuriatingly cautious that Harry was quickly losing his patience with the older man.

Within a week, the salves he'd been sent home with had done their work, and his hair looked like it always had. His scalp was still sensitive, but nowhere near as bad as it had been before. Harry was especially grateful that the regrowth of hair hid the thin silvery scar left behind by Taggert. When he looked in the mirror now, it was almost as though none of it had ever happened. Save for Harry's memories, there was almost no physical evidence of his latest near-death experience. Looking so much better, Harry was determined to show Remus that he was fine. Beyond reassuring his partner that he was better, he deeply missed the more carnal aspects of their relationship.

With the full moon just under a week away, Harry knew that it was the perfect time to enact his brilliant plan. Harry kept things as normal as he could during the Saturday he'd decided to put his plan into action, though with a few key differences: Harry conveniently chose a pair of jeans to wear that day that clung to him like a second skin, and took every opportunity to casually touch the back of Remus's hand, or lightly brush past him, just enough to pique the older man's interest, but never enough contact to satisfy him.

By dinner, Remus looked particularly agitated, though when Harry asked what was wrong, he grunted in a noncommittal sort of way, and did not properly answer him. Harry hid his smile behind his wineglass.

After dinner and their ritual tea, Harry once more tried to entice the man into fucking him. There was no other word that could exactly encompass what Harry wanted. Any other phrasing seemed somehow too soft or delicate for the rough, passionate sex he'd been fantasizing about ever since he'd gotten home. He took a slow breath to steady himself, and put his plan into action.

He climbed into Remus's lap, and did not miss the already noticeable bulge in his trousers. Harry braced himself with his knees on either side of the older man's hips just as he had done the first evening he'd returned home, and kissed Remus roughly.

The day of teasing had done its work; Remus reacted on instinct and held onto him tightly, while a low growl escaped him as he reached down to cup Harry's buttocks in his large hands. Harry squirmed with delight, a small moan escaping him as their kiss became more feverish, their lips parting and tongues tangling together. Remus lifted Harry up and Harry hooked his legs around the werewolf's waist, for once uncaring that Remus had done so, his mind solely focused on his overwhelming arousal.

Remus carried Harry upstairs, showing no more strain than if he had been carrying a ragdoll. Harry grinned as Remus dropped him unceremoniously onto their bed, and the older man climbed up at once, pausing only long enough to stare down at his young partner with concern.

“Are you sure you're up for this Harry?” He asked softly, one hand pressing lightly against Harry's abdomen. Harry almost wanted to laugh at the question, and instead of answering, he grabbed Remus's hand and directed it to his groin.

“I'm up for it, all right,” Harry whispered, his cheeks flushing a little at his word choice, but rushed forward when he saw the look of concern that was still on his partner's face. “Remus, I'm fine, really. Now can you please stop worrying and fuck me already?”

Remus chuckled softly to Harry's plea as he pressed the heel of his hand gently into Harry's erection, and leaned forward to claim his mouth again. Harry moaned, arching his hips into the contact at once.

“Your wish is my command,” Remus murmured, eliciting another soft moan from Harry. He slid his hands beneath Harry's thin T-shirt and slowly peeled the fabric away while Harry shifted to help him along. The garment quickly disappeared over Remus's shoulder, and he began to feverishly work at the clasp on Harry's belt.

“Wait,” Harry breathed, and reached for the buttons on Remus's cardigan, “This happens every bloody time. You strip me in ten seconds flat, and you're left fully dressed.” He said as he popped open the buttons, “I want to see you.” Something in Remus's fevered, aroused stare softened, and he leaned in to kiss Harry again, much more tenderly than he had before.

“Then see me.”

Harry's fingers trailed blindly down the front of the garment, popping the buttons open as they kissed, and Remus shrugged out of the garment. He tossed it aside as his tongue begged entrance to Harry's mouth, and Harry began to work blindly on the buttons on the shirt Remus had been wearing beneath the cardigan. Distracted by the heated kiss, Harry's fingers fumbled, almost growling in frustration at the man's habit of wearing far too many layers.

As Harry peeled back the shirt, revealing the fair, scarred flesh beneath, he broke the kiss to press his lips to Remus's clavicle. He trailed his mouth across the jut of bone, and paused over one of the man's many thin scars, trailing his tongue across it while his fingertips ghosted over the others he could not attend to straightaway.

“Harry...” Remus groaned his name, and his cock twitched in response to the sweet sound of the man's voice carrying his name.

Pliant under Harry's gentle ministrations, he eased Remus onto his back and perched his bum over the older man's erection, deliberately shifting in his lap far more than was necessary. Harry bent forward and tended to the thin, opalescent scars that he had so missed seeing during his stint in hospital. His fingers, tongue and lips touched on every thin scar he could find, and he almost whooped in delight at finally being able to touch his partner like this again.

Soft, barely audible moans escaped the werewolf beneath him, his breathing shallow as he reached up to card his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry shivered, his scalp still more sensitive than usual, but Remus did not seem to notice, too lost in the haze of his own arousal. Harry paused his attentions to the older man's chest, and he leant forward to kiss Remus deeply. The kiss dissolved quickly into a tangled mess of tongue, and the sensation was making Harry feel almost dizzy in his overwhelming desire.

Harry reached down at the same moment that Remus did, and they worked feverishly to free their cocks from their confines. Remus's erection sprang into Harry's waiting hand at once, and he could not help but moan into the older man's mouth.

“I love that you never wear pants,” Harry murmured, and Remus chuckled, the warm, throaty laugh making Harry tremble with anticipation. He slipped quickly out of his brown corduroys, while Harry mirrored his movements, his jeans pooling on top of the brown fabric on the floor.

Remus took control, turning to pin Harry beneath him, his arms braced carefully around the younger man to keep him from feeling trapped. He palmed Harry's pink and weeping erection, and Harry arched his back at once, his breath coming out in a hiss as he reached out to rest a hand over Remus's stilling his movements. He broke the kiss and gazed down at Harry with confusion.

“Think we could skip the theatrics tonight?” Harry breathed, “I just...I need you.”

Harry felt a flush creep up his neck at the words, mildly embarrassed at how needy he sounded. Remus did not tease him however, and he leant over Harry's squirming form to dig a small vial of clear liquid from the drawer of their night table. Harry grinned at the sight of it and he was quick to roll over, lifting his arse in the air invitingly. From behind him he heard a low, amused chuckle, and shivered a little when he felt Remus's hand lightly caress his left buttock.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Remus breathed, and Harry could feel his face heat at the words, “you are so beautiful when you're like this.”

Lips and tongue brushed the skin of his arse, and Harry buried his face in the duvet, a soft groan escaping him. It had been far too long, and Harry felt far too sensitive. Paired with the soft-spoken words, Harry was already a trembling mess under Remus's gentle touch.

Harry felt Remus shift behind him, his front pressing lightly into Harry's back as he rested a hand gently against the back of his neck, coaxing Harry's head to the side to expose his flushed face.

“I want to hear you,” Remus murmured, leaning in for a soft kiss before Harry could respond, while a slick finger trailed along the cleft of his arse.

The digit paused at his entrance, teasing the sensitive, puckered flesh and eliciting another moan from Harry. He pressed himself against the finger, his breathing shallow as he tried to focus long enough to speak.

“Remus, God, please, I want you, I need you,” Harry said as his eyes fluttered shut. His breath escaped him in short gasps as the tip of the finger breached the tight ring of muscle, the sensation even more thrilling than usual, given his heightened sensitivity after such a long dry spell.

Harry reached forward blindly and grabbed fistfuls of the coverlet, grunts and moans of pleasure escaping him in equal measure. He no longer cared what he sounded like or what he may look like, just as long as Remus didn't stop. A second finger was quick to join the first, sliding in slow thrusts, gently stretching and preparing him. Harry felt almost impossibly hot, and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead while a single droplet trickled down his spine.

Harry whimpered as Remus slipped his fingers from him, but he seemed to understand how much Harry needed this, and wasted no time in lining himself up with Harry, and slowly slid inside.

Remus grunted, pausing once he had fully sheathed himself in his young lover, his arm curled around Harry's waist to hold him still. Harry's back moulded into Remus's chest, and after a brief moment, he offered Remus a short nod of assent.

Remus adjusted his position and slid out of Harry, before thrusting back in just as slowly. Remus picked up his pace gradually while Harry moved fluidly in time with him, short gasps escaping him as Remus's delightfully thick cock brushed Harry's prostate with every alternate thrust.

Harry lifted a hand to his own weeping cock, stroking himself in time with Remus's movements. It took only a few short pulls before Harry's breath hitched, his neck arched, and his arse clenched around Remus, milking an orgasm from the older man while Harry came all over his hand and the bedspread.

The pair fell forward in a mess of flushed, tangled limbs, both gasping as their heart rates slowed back to normal. Ever so slowly, Remus slid his limp member from Harry, rolled off of him, and Remus pulled him into a relaxed embrace. Harry was panting shallowly, and he rolled over to face his partner as he felt the warmth of a cleaning charm tickle across his skin. In the dim evening light, Harry could see that Remus's expression seemed to flicker between concern and satiation.

“What's wrong?” Harry reached up, his fingers brushing along the edge of Remus's jaw, and the older man reached up to cover Harry's hand with his own while he offered him a small, reassuring smile.

“Nothing,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss Harry lightly, shifting long enough to get them both under the duvet, and Harry perched his chin against Remus's clavicle while he watched the older man.

“You don't have a nothing face,” Harry replied in the same soft tone, “you have a something face.”

“I exhausted you,” Remus said softly, sounding as though he felt terribly guilty about that, while Harry quirked his mouth into a small smile.

“You did, but that's usually what happens when two people go to bed together,” Harry replied, bowing his head to watch his fingertips graze across a few of Remus's scars as he spoke.

“I mean, more than usual,” Remus said, then added in a panicked rush, “I shouldn't have done this, you're still healing, I should have—”

Harry cut Remus's words off with a kiss. His hand moved to cradle Remus's cheek, and when he pulled back the older man still looked uncertain.

“If I really hadn't wanted it, I would have stopped you, you know that. Don't go blaming yourself that I'm a little more tired than usual, it's to be expected after everything that's happened.” Harry paused, easing back a little as he studied his lover's face. “But there's something else bothering you, isn't there?”

“Just thinking about...things,” Remus answered softly after a moment's hesitation. One of his hands reached up to brush through the small curls at the back of Harry's neck, his expression thoughtful, “A lot has happened.”

“You could say that,” Harry said with a soft chuckle, “are you thinking about...your transformation?”

The effect his words had on the older man was instantaneous. He tensed and his expression darkened, but Harry could not fathom why Remus seemed to be so distressed by it.

“Thanks to The Daily Prophet,” he said at last, “this won't be kept quiet. Other werewolves will have heard by now, and it won't take a genius for them to work out the identity of the werewolf in that article.”

“Is it really so bad that other werewolves find out? I mean, it just means they know that you're strong, right?” Harry asked, smiling a little as he did so. It had taken him an inordinate amount of self-control to keep himself from serenading Remus with a round of the I Told You So symphony, distinctly remembering that he'd said that Remus could probably achieve a transformation outside the full moon several weeks earlier.

Instead of answering, Remus pulled Harry closer, his arm tense around him. Not completely understanding this anxiety, Harry draped his own arm across Remus's abdomen in an effort to show his support. The usual sleepy satisfaction that followed mind-blowing sex with Remus eluded him, and it was a long time before Harry finally managed to fall asleep.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon