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
- 25
- 26
Chapter 26 – House of Wolves

“Moony, I swear to God if you don't knock it off I will put your favourite tea in a silver tin!” Harry griped. The werewolf ignored the threat, and continued nudging Harry down the hall and back to their bedroom. The 'gentle' taps the enormous creature was offering him were powerful enough to make Harry stagger and nearly fall after each one. With a huff, Harry gave up and headed back to the room.

It had been a little over a fortnight since Harry returned home, and Remus had been extremely worried about Harry over-exerting himself. Despite the fact that more than one Healer had told Remus that Harry could go back to his normal routine, he still seemed to be hell-bent on keeping Harry in bed. Not that this was entirely a bad thing, but more often than not it made Harry want to kill the well-meaning werewolf.

Harry flopped back down onto the bed with a grunt, and Moony joined him a moment later, the bed springs protesting ominously to his weight. He walked in a tight circle for several seconds, then lay down with his head resting in the centre of Harry's chest. Harry reached up and threaded his fingers through the thick fur, while Moony huffed a little, shifting slightly to lick the ridge of Harry's hand.

He chuckled softly, remembering the utterly bewildered looks Hermione and Ron had given him when he once described Remus's werewolf form as, 'kind of like a really big puppy.' They had obviously not forgotten their last encounter with Moony, and it was likely that picturing Moony as anything less than a snarling, bloodthirsty beast was a bit of a stretch for them. Aside from the ridiculous over-protectiveness that had come out during this moon, Harry had long since gotten used to Moony, and even enjoyed the werewolf's company. It was vastly different than being with Remus when he was, well, Remus, and it was sometimes difficult to remember that they were in fact the same person.

Harry did not feel even remotely tired despite the late hour, and absentmindedly stroked Moony's thick fur while he tried to will himself to relax. So much had happened recently, Harry was still struggling to keep it all straight in his head.

After being discharged from hospital, Harry had intended to head back to work. Instead, Sahir, his new supervisor, had insisted he take some time off to recuperate physically as well as mentally.

“You went through a terrible ordeal,” Sahir had said impatiently, not even bothering to look in Harry's direction while she spoke. “You need to give yourself some time to heal. Even if you don't think you need it, believe me when I say that you do. I have been on this job too long, and I've seen my fair share of breakdowns from Aurors who returned to work too early. Go home, Potter.”

The memory still stung, and his fingers tensed in Moony's fur. It made him feel like some sort of invalid, like a child who couldn't cope with the real world. These feelings were somewhat amplified by Remus's insistence that he take it easy—that is, except for when Remus was pounding him into the mattress. Harry smirked a little at the contradiction, and with a small sigh he tilted his head to the side and tried to get some rest.

~*~

Harry woke the following morning pinned beneath his lover, who was quite naked, and utterly dead to the world. Pressing his mouth into a thin line to keep from laughing, Harry carefully extricated himself from beneath Remus, and padded barefoot down to the main level to scare up some breakfast.

Following Kreacher's acceptance of Remus as part of Harry's life, the days following the full moon were vastly improved. This came from Kreacher's newfound habit of preparing enormous, well thought-out meals that would help the werewolf replace the energy he'd lost during the night.

This morning was no different. Kreacher met him at the bottom of the stairs whilst carrying a large tray of bacon, sausages, kippers, honeyed ham, crumpets, jam, tea, and toast. Harry grinned when he saw it and relieved Kreacher of his burden, while he mouthed a silent thank you to him. The elf bowed lowly and padded silently back to the kitchen.

Harry did not trust his carrying skills enough to chance carrying the overloaded tray upstairs manually, and drew his wand out from the waistband of his pyjama bottoms to levitate the tray and conduct it carefully back to their bedroom.

By the time he'd returned, Remus had woken up, and was smiling groggily at his young mate.

“Morning,” he murmured, sitting up slowly and stretching, utterly unconcerned by his nudity. Harry bit at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning at the delightful sight of him, and lowered the platter carefully into his free hand. He flicked his wand and conjured a miniature table in the centre of the bed, then carefully set down the platter and rejoined his partner.

Harry leaned in for a rather sloppy kiss before he had even uttered two words, and pulled back with a grin.

“Morning,” he replied at last, leaning back enough to settle in alongside Remus while he took in the werewolf's weary but handsome shape. Remus chuckled in amusement at Harry's rather enthusiastic greeting, and lifted his wand to summon a set of pyjamas, which he pulled on while Harry filled his plate for him.

If nothing else, Harry was grateful that Remus's bodily exhaustion that followed the full moon kept the man from lapsing back into full mother hen mode. It gave Harry the opportunity to show the man than he was more or less back to his old self by taking his turn to tend to Remus as he recovered. Compared to the moons before their kidnapping, it seemed as though Remus was recovering much more quickly than he had before. Harry did not know if Remus noticed this, as he did not carry the strained, constipated look he usually had when something was on his mind, but seemed rather amused by Harry's enthusiastic mothering.

~*~

“I don't know what to tell you Harry,” Hermione said two days later, sitting across from him in the very back of the Leaky Cauldron, “Creature magic is complex—more complex than wizarding magic at any rate, and couple that with the fact that most sentient creatures do not trust wizards in the slightest it's no surprise that we know next to nothing about it.”

“I just wish I knew what to say, or do, or something,” he muttered, staring into his tankard of butterbeer, but not drinking it. “I mean, he seems to be healing faster, but any time the spontaneous transformation comes up he looks like somebody's died. I don't get it. I thought this would be a good thing.”

“Harry,” Harry looked up at Hermione's softened tone, and he was surprised to see that she looked so sad. He hadn't expected that. “I know that I haven't exactly been your cheerleader these last months, but...it's clear that you love him, and he loves you. But you need to remember who Remus is.”

“How d'you mean?” Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, pushing back his joy at Hermione's acceptance of their relationship, finally. There would be time enough for that later. Hermione huffed, and got that old, familiar look she'd used to get back at Hogwarts when she'd read a book that he or Ron hadn't.

“Harry, when have you ever known Remus to be accepting of his werewolf side?” Hermione asked, eyes wide as she stared intently at him. “He thinks of himself first and foremost as a wizard, not a werewolf. To him, his Lycanthropy is like...an allergy or something. A disease he has little control over. And now suddenly this happens, vastly strengthening the werewolf in him, his creature magic and healing powers will be stronger, his wolf form is likely bigger—or if it isn't, it's likely to grow over time, and his instincts will be sharper than they used to be. I'd imagine for someone like Remus, he won't be able to see any of that as a good thing.”

“I wish I could do more to help him,” Harry mumbled, looking back down at his glass, “it's complicated because his instincts and all that are sort of running wild after what happened. It's a damn miracle I could get out of the house today to come see you, he's just...really nervous about leaving me on my own.”

“How did you manage it anyway?” There was a tense note in Hermione's voice, which Harry ignored. Since coming home her attitude had begun to shift back to how she had been before the incident, and Harry was certain Ron had had something to do with talking some sense into her.

“I took a leaf out of your book and slipped some sleeping draught into his afternoon tea. I left a note for him so he doesn't freak out when he wakes up,” Harry said, looking up to find that she was smiling, genuinely smiling. A half second later however, her eyes filled with tears, and Harry tensed. “What? What did I say?”

“Oh, no,” she sniffled, fanning her eyes and tilting her head up a little, “I'm just...oh Harry, I'm so sorry, I've been a terrible friend to you. Ron was right, but I just...I couldn't get past what he did.”

“It's not like you had no call for it,” Harry said awkwardly, looking around at the other patrons who'd glanced their way when Hermione had begun to get emotional. He dug into his pocket and withdrew a tissue, and handed it to her. She smiled gratefully as she dabbed at her eyes. “I mean, he did...you know, but we're working past it. It's been a weird year.”

“It really has,” she agreed, her eyes flitting over his shoulder for a second before she returned her gaze to him. “But things are going to get better, right? No mad Anti-Werewolf group is hunting you and Remus down, you're with someone you really care about...I think your only concern might be that a werewolf's constitution is a little stronger than your average wizard.”

“What d'you—” but Harry's words were cut short when a pair of strong arms encircled him from behind. The scent and sensation of Remus enveloped him, and he felt his stomach turn over, flushing slightly when a whiskery kiss tickled the crook of his neck. Hermione turned away slightly to give the pair some privacy.

“Contrary to what you might think, you needn't drug me if you need a little space. You just need to ask,” Remus said, though there was a lilt in his voice that told Harry he was struggling to keep himself from re-staking his claim, something that the other patrons would likely not appreciate.

It was not until they arrived home twenty minutes later that Remus's self control crumbled, and he pulled Harry tightly against him, devouring his mouth in a rough kiss. Harry tensed a little, alarmed by the suddenness of the action, but some of his panic ebbed when he realized that Remus was trembling.

Remus broke the kiss and buried his face into the crook of Harry's neck, but he did not stop shaking, and clung tightly to the younger man.

“I'm sorry Harry,” he whispered hoarsely, “I don't know what's wrong, I just...I can't control myself as well as I used to.”

Uncertain what to do, he reached around the older man and rubbed his back a little awkwardly while he waited for him to calm down.

“Talk to me,” Harry murmured, while Remus continued to cling to him, though the trembling seemed to have stopped. “Are you angry that I snuck off? Upset?”

“Worried,” Remus murmured, his face still buried in the crook of Harry's neck. “I needed you here.”

Something about Remus's explanation made Harry suspect that he wasn't telling him everything, but for the moment he decided that it might be better to just let it go. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he slowly led Remus from the front hall and into the sitting room. The way he clung to Harry was highly reminiscent of their first encounter after the accidental claim, and he had no idea what to make of it.

Harry eased Remus down onto the sofa, and when he moved to sit next to him, he yelped as an arm shot out and pulled Harry into Remus's lap. The werewolf said something, somewhere between an unintelligible growl and a mumble, and it sounded to him as though Remus was saying, 'Mine, mine, mine...' over and over. It was a little unsettling, especially after going so many months without this sort of behaviour being that dominant.

Harry had no idea what he could do to help calm Remus's mind. A little nervously, he pressed a hand to Remus's cheek and drew the werewolf's attention to him, then kissed him gently.

“I'm not going anywhere Remus,” Harry murmured against his mouth. “I'm not leaving you, nor am I rejecting you. Sometimes I just need some time to myself.”

At his words, the arms around Harry's waist tightened but the older man did not verbally respond. Harry waited to see if he'd eventually say something, but he never did. Instead, he sat there, holding tightly to Harry, exchanging kisses while he waited for the wolf in Remus's mind to calm.

After almost an hour, Remus's arms around him relaxed, and Harry was able to slip from his lap, though the werewolf still held tightly to him. Harry could not help but feel a little anxious, these displays of dominance used to be rarer, but of late they seemed to be becoming more frequent. Harry did not know what it meant, nor if the spontaneous transformation was to blame, or if it was from something else entirely. Despite the constant reassurances Harry spouted to the man, he still appeared agitated, as if Harry would suddenly disappear if he relaxed his hold on him.

“You're still not well,” Remus said at last, the statement seemingly coming out of nowhere. His words were low and halting, as though human speech was something almost beyond him at the moment. “I...I need to keep you safe. And—I know that you are. Logically, I know that. It's just difficult to keep these instincts under control.”

Harry had no idea what to say. He knew he was fine, but he felt like repeating himself would do little to ease the older man's worries. He kept silent, and allowed himself to be held.

~*~

After another week of panicked, overprotective werewolf instincts being thrust upon him (both figuratively and literally), at last these impulses seemed to be calming, and Remus did not seem to feel compelled to stick as closely to Harry's side. He was hopeful that that meant things could finally start to go back to normal, but unfortunately, that was when the nightmares started.

It was as though his mind had waited for his body to heal before he even began to deal with what had happened to him on a subconscious level. At first, the dreams were little more than flashbacks to what he'd endured, and each time he'd wake with a cry in his throat, and Remus would hold him until the shaking subsided. As time went on however, the dreams morphed into an endless stream of death scenes involving Remus, while Harry could do nothing but look on helplessly.

Harry never told Remus details of his dreams; it was bad enough experiencing them once, and he refused to go through it a second time. The older man's presence when he woke in a cold sweat with a scream on his lips was enough to calm his frantic heart, and Harry would burrow into the warm embrace gratefully, hoping Remus did not catch the tears in his eyes.

The most significant nighttime experience came when he woke the following morning feeling strangely drained, like he'd been performing complicated magic recently, though he could not recall doing anything more straining the night before than a summoning charm for their evening tea tray.

He rolled over, and saw Remus staring at him worriedly, the dark circles under his eyes making him look like he hadn't slept.

“How do you feel?” Remus asked, his voice a little groggier than it usually was in the mornings.

“A little drained, but fine, I guess,” Harry replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“You were sleepwalking last night.”

“Oh, great,” Harry groused, “what happened?”

“I heard a disturbance downstairs at about two in the morning,” Remus said, reaching out to brush his fingers across Harry's bare upper arm. “I turned over and you weren't there, and I went down to find you starkers in the front hall, wand in hand, fiddling with the house's protective wards.”

Harry stared, eyes widening in surprise. It unsettled him that he could remember none of this, though considering he was sleepwalking, that wasn't too surprising. It definitely explained why he felt so sluggish, however.

“Do you know what I was doing?” Harry asked, worried about what he may have done to the magical barriers that kept Grimmauld Place safe.

“Not really unfortunately,” Remus replied with a small frown. “I'm keyed in to the wards, but at its base level it recognizes you as the owner of Grimmauld Place, not me. As far as I can tell, you were attempting to strengthen its secretive charms, but in your state you weren't exactly clear on what you were doing and why. You don't remember what you dreamt, did you?”

Harry did. But he didn't want to have to repeat the horrific things his mind had dreamt up of Red Moon breaking into Grimmauld Place and hurting Remus. His fingers tensed around the edge of the duvet, and shook his head mutely.

Whatever Harry had done to the wards, it was like he'd built an impact chamber around the house. Nothing could get in, and it meant all of their post had been delayed while Harry tried to fix what he'd done. They didn't need such heavy protection round the house anymore, and the wards were so strong that he hadn't been able to get even Hermione inside to help him.

They had been careful to put Harry's wand away at bedtime to keep a repeat of his sleepwalker spellcasting from happening. He was grateful Remus was nearby those evenings, as going to bed without his wand near at hand made him feel painfully vulnerable. Remus's presence was like an anchor keeping him grounded; it made him feel protected and safe.

After a week, Harry had managed to lower the wards' defences enough for them leave the house without worrying that they might not be able to find it again. It was a step in the right direction, and Harry prayed that no new drama would crop up any time soon, as he was getting rather tired of this endless stream of unfortunate events.

Harry's nightmares continued. though there had been no more nighttime walks. Unfortunately, the state of his subconscious greatly worried Remus, and he had taken to dogging his steps practically everywhere he went. While he adored the man, it was beginning to drive him mental.

One blustery Autumn afternoon, Harry was at the front door pulling a jumper over his T-shirt when Remus predictably appeared out of nowhere. So much for slipping off quietly, he thought as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning out loud.

“I'm going for a walk,” Harry said before Remus could ask, “I'm a little restless, and just need to clear my head a little.” Harry moved for the door, and Remus mirrored his movements. At once Harry lifted a hand to stop him. “Alone.”

Remus looked as though Harry was asking him to cut off his own arm, and he sighed, trying to ignore the low thrum of guilt the expression on the man's face caused him. That wounded puppy look almost broke his heart. He stepped back from the door, and stepped over to his lover.

“Remus, I love you,” Harry said as he placed his hands on the older man's shoulders and lifted himself onto his toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “But there are no threats beyond this door that I cannot handle, Red Moon is gone, I'm safe—we're safe. I just need a little time to myself, all right?”

Harry looked up into Remus's eyes and waited patiently for a response. He wasn't certain he completely believed his own words, and while all evidence pointed to the contrary, it was still hard to believe that Red Moon was well and truly gone. At last, Remus sighed defeatedly and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist to draw him close.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Harry lightly. He pulled back and rested his forehead against the younger man's. “The bond is pushing my instincts into a deep need to protect, given all that's happened recently.”

“I know,” Harry smiled a little and kept still in the embrace; he always loved it when Remus held him like this. “Think you could handle half an hour without me?”

Fleetingly, Harry wondered if he was being unfair to Remus, wanting to leave when the bond was still a little shaky from what they'd endured. However, Harry also knew that if he was stuck in the house for much longer, it was likely that he would hex his delightful partner into next week.

“I'll survive,” Remus said with a small smile, brushing his lips against Harry's one last time. His tone made it sound as though the idea of letting Harry go was more difficult than he was willing to admit, but he let him go all the same, and Harry hurried out of the door before his guilt could convince him to stay.

The square was clogged with children running and playing, with the parents in their gardens looking on with varying levels of protective concern. Harry wove carefully through the throng of ankle-biters and made his way down the street, his hands crammed into his jeans pockets. The amount of children on the street thinned as Harry moved, and he ducked into the park opposite from Number Nine, which was curiously empty of children.

The park was old, and could easily have been the backdrop to a horror film. Ancient chain swings, creaking metal roundabout, and small copse of trees on a field of green, with the skeletal remains of a football goal in the distance.

Harry sat down on one of the swings, dug his heels into the grass, and swung lightly as he rested his head against the chain handle. He stared off into the distance as he allowed his mind to wander.

For close to a year, his life had been overwhelmed by the bond with Remus. Harry still struggled with the pleasant surprise at how everything had worked out; never in his life had he thought he'd find such happiness with someone like Remus. He and Ginny had gone back to a tenuous, but mending friendship, and with Nott at her side, as strange as that was to get his head around, she seemed genuinely happy for herself, and for him. Harry smiled; life had a strange way of working itself out.

A sudden snapping of twigs from behind him jerked Harry from his daze of thoughts. He jumped up and spun around, his wand in his hand in an instant, but stopped short when he saw who it was.

The huge hulking mass of Fenrir Greyback slipped from the trees, but stood carefully out of sight of the street. He took another step forward while Harry held his ground, eyeing Greyback suspiciously as he approached. The wind whipped around them, blowing Greyback's silvery hair back and away from his face, and the months free seemed to have done him a world of good. His skin was no longer waxy and sallow, but tan and healthy. If possible, he seemed to be even bigger than before, his vast muscle mass making it look like he could uproot an adult oak tree without breaking a sweat.

“Potter,” the low growl of the werewolf's voice caused the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end, and he swallowed nervously. Even with their truce, the man's pseudo-reputation preceded him, and as such made Harry more than a little nervous.

“Greyback,” Harry returned, with a small nod of his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Greyback hesitated at Harry's words, and he watched the werewolf reach into his leather jacket and draw out a parchment envelope, with some sort of strange sigil on it. At first, Harry thought it was ink, but a closer look made Harry realize that it had been drawn in blood.

“We had attempted to contact your mate by your owl post,” he began, toying with the envelope in his hands, while keeping his eyes fixed on Harry. The ice blue stare paired with the werewolf's words amplified Harry's unease. Why was Greyback trying to contact Remus? “But our owls seemed unable to locate your home. It was most perplexing. I took it upon myself to track you both to London, but the scent becomes...confused when I reach this area.”

Harry swallowed a laugh that had bubbled up at the back of his throat. Of course Greyback would never admit to failing in a task, but Harry wasn't brave enough to point that out to him. Fortunately, he had a feeling he knew what the problem was.

“Our wards went a little wonky recently,” Harry said, “That would likely be why your owls can't find us—er, him.”

To the explanation, Greyback was silent for several moments while he eyed Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry had the distinct, familiar sensation of being x-rayed, but it was much more unsettling coming from Greyback compared to Dumbledore.

“Given your history, Potter, I believe you are trustworthy enough for me to ask you to deliver this to your mate,” he held out the envelope, and Harry reached out to take it. It was fairly thin and light, but whatever it contained was clearly of great importance to the infamous werewolf.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry nodded once, “I'll make sure he gets it.”

“Tell him he can send his response by owl, if he wishes,” Greyback said with a grunt, then spun on his heel and strode away before Harry could respond, and disappeared with a sharp crack.

Harry looked down to the envelope in his hands. It was entirely nondescript, save for Remus's name scrawled across the front in messy print. Harry flipped it over, and over the envelope's seal was a design, in blood, as Harry had noted earlier. After a moment of staring at it, Harry recognized it as the Feoh rune, and he was suddenly thankful for Hermione's insistence that she teach both him and Ron basic Ancient Runes when they'd first joined the Auror Corps.

Harry looked back to the road, his walk cut much shorter than he had intended, given that whatever this was about, it seemed important. Harry could not explain why, even to himself, but holding the letter in his hands he felt a deep sense of foreboding settle over him. He took a steadying breath to dismiss his worries, and made for home.

“That was quick,” Remus remarked as Harry stepped inside, standing up from the overstuffed armchair in the sitting room in one fluid motion and crossed over to Harry. He cradled his cheek in his hand and pulled him in for a tender kiss.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, his breath tickling across Harry's slightly parted lips. He shivered, and felt that familiar sensation of being entirely enveloped in Remus's presence, like nothing bad could possibly happen now that he was near. The sensation threatened to completely overwhelm him, and he shook his head a few times in an effort to focus.

“Something, er, came up and I needed to come back earlier than I planned,” Harry tried for nonchalance, but the tremor in his tone was not missed by Remus, whose brow furrowed with concern.

“Greyback found me, he, er, wanted me to give you this,” Harry held up the letter nervously, and the hand that had been resting upon the centre of his back slid away as he took the letter from Harry, and the crease of his brow deepened with both curiosity and clear trepidation. With his eyes still on the envelope he now held, he reached out blindly for Harry's hand, and the pair headed for the sitting room in tense silence.

Remus sat down on the sofa with Harry at his side while he slit the envelope and shook the letter open. Harry watched his partner nervously as his eyes zipped right and left across the page, his expression shifting from curiosity to surprise rather quickly.

“What is it?” Harry asked tentatively as Remus's eyes stopped moving, but stared at the letter as though he could not believe what he was seeing.

“It's...Greyback...he...” Remus grasped at straws, clearly trying to work through the shock to verbalize the contents of the letter. He looked up and met Harry's gaze with wide eyes, “He's formally invited me to join his pack.”

To Be Continued...
A/N: So ends book one. I hope you guys enjoyed it! This fic took a helluva lot out of me, and I'm going on a one-month hiatus. I am not one to abandon my fics, and I WILL be back with book two, Moonstruck, in good time. I'm hoping I won't be MIA for more than a month/month and a half, but we'll see. Those of you who have read my other long work, The Stag and The Snake know that I have the self-control of a bag of hammers, but this time I mean it, because I have almost none of book two written as of right now. xD

Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, kudo, bookmark, or subscribe to this story. I know I'm utter shite at responding to comments, but I read every single one and they always warm my heart and help encourage me to write.

This is not to say that I will be poofing for a whole month or so. Along with the sequel I have a number of other fics in the works, and as I finish them, they'll be going up.

Special S/O to my braintwin KuriQuinn for putting up with me gibbering nonstop about this damn story for the last five months, even though it falls into the realm of a NoTP for you. (If you guys are into T-rated Naruto stories, definitely check her out on AO3 and FF.net. She's a brilliant writer.)

Also thank you to Linda, for the same reasons, and allowing me to spam you with questions and requests for feedback at least once a day. Both of you rule.

Thank you all again so much for being so enthusiastic about this story, this isn't the most popular ship out there, and I had no idea it would be so well-received. I'm both thrilled and humbled by it, and I hope you guys will enjoy where I wind up taking the story.

See you all soon with book two!
James
xox
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon