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Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 12595 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 25
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A/N: After today we're back to our regularly scheduled update days, so next update will be Tuesday, September 19th.
Chapter Twenty-Six – Meddlers

Harry had quite forgotten how different city life was compared to life in the countryside, and when he woke the day after Remus's rejection to the weak sunlight of late summer pouring in the window of his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, he felt no more cheered by the weather than he had when he'd initially stumbled in yesterday.

As he lay in bed, the musty, unused, and depressing scent of the house surrounding him, he could not help but reflect on how different he felt now compared to the lead-up to his turning.

At that time, he had been scared and weakened by all that had happened. Here, he was furious and hurt by Remus's rejection over something that, in Harry's estimation, was was unfounded and totally illogical.

Harry had been quite certain that his friends would freak out if he suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth, Harry had the forethought to send Hermione a quick note, things went bad with Remus, need to be alone. Foolishly, Harry had assumed that that would be enough for him to be left alone for a few days to think things through.

Instead, he was given a mere twenty-four hours before he smelt (and heard) a female dominant werewolf and a human male breaking into the house. The sounds were accompanied shortly thereafter by the sneering voice of someone he really didn't want to see right now.

“Granger, why in the seven hells did you call me? I've no practical experience in talking werewolves out of trees.”

“No, but you do have a marvellous talent of putting things in perspective,” Hermione replied patiently, “which is one thing I think Harry needs right now, instead of any one of us mollycoddling him.”

Harry ground his teeth as he listened apprehensively to the sound of his friend and former rival tramping up the stairs, but still managed to jump in surprise when Malfoy burst into the master bedroom in a swirl of his expensive robes, and Harry glared at him.

“Ever heard of knocking, Malfoy?”

“If I'd knocked, you would have told me to piss off.”

“Piss off.”

“Too late!” he cried as he strode forward, and conjured (of all things) a teddy bear with the flick of his wand, before he fell unceremoniously onto the bed in front of Harry, who was still glaring at him as he held out the bear to the werewolf. “Now, tell me where the bad man touched you.”

“You wanna know where he touched me, Malfoy?” Harry sneered as he pushed the bear away and jumped off the bed and began to pace, “in the gut. Because I finally—finally work things out, and I go to him and what does he do? He stomps on my goddamn heart. You'd think I'd know better by now with him but no, I never fucking learn, it's what I get for—”

“Are you quite finished?” Malfoy interrupted, and Harry glared at him. “Are you even remotely surprised that Lupin rejected you? Seriously? Are you that thick?”

“Of course I'm bloody well surprised, Malfoy,” Harry sniped back, “he spent all that time trying to win me back, then he left, and why—”

“—and what did he do after he left?” Malfoy asked, enunciating each word as though he was speaking to a child. “He went to a Mind Healer, he distanced himself from everyone. He's afraid of himself and what he might do if he goes unchecked. When he was with you, he was happy as a Niffler in a Gringotts vault, but he was dangerously possessive. Of course he'd fear going back together with someone he's so petrified of hurting. Perspective enough for you, Granger?” Malfoy asked as he turned towards Hermione, who was standing in the door frame with her arms crossed. She scowled at him.

“Yes, thank you, Draco,” she said, though she continued to frown at him. Without another word, he shouldered past the dominant and left, grumbling continually about being dragged into Harry's life problems. Harry flopped back down onto the bed and frowned at his empty doorway, and neither he nor Hermione spoke until they heard the distant sound of his front door slamming.

“I don't care if he's afraid of hurting me again,” Harry grumbled as he picked at the frayed edge of the blanket he lay on, “he's...he's...God, I just need him in my life, and then he goes and does this...fuck...” Harry broke off abruptly as his throat began to tighten, and glanced up when he felt a gentle weight settle at the end of the bed.

Hermione was watching him with a sad sort of smile. Her eyes, a warm brown that he had become so familiar with over the years, were now ringed with gold, a small tell of her recent Lycanthropy. She still radiated the strength of a dominant, and even when she was trying to comfort him, he could feel her power and strength. Hermione reached for him, and closed both her hands over his right one, and offered it a small squeeze.

“He never wants to hurt you ever again, Harry,” she said gently, “he wants to do right by you, and he doesn't want his instincts or own needs to cloud his judgment. Be proud of him, that's a huge advance from how things were even a few months ago.”

“How can I be proud that he's rejected me?” Harry asked feebly, directing his question to his knees. “I feel lost, Hermione...You've got Ron, and Ulrich and I didn't work, and now I'm on my own again...”

“You're not on your own, Harry,” Hermione interrupted gently, but firmly. “You haven't been alone for a very long time. I know that Ulrich will still be your friend after all of this is settled. And you have me, and Ron, and Ginny, and Tavish, and the rest of the pack. You're far from alone.”

“But what am I supposed to do about...?”

“Talk to him again,” Hermione suggested, cutting in again before Harry was able to finish, and he bit the inside of his cheek to swallow his annoyance. It seemed as though it had somehow become Interrupt Harry Day, and that was only adding to his long list of frustrations. “Talk to him, maybe discuss things like adults. I could come and mediate if you like, or you two could go see his Mind Healer, a sort of...I dunno, marriage counselling...thing.”

“What's the point?” Harry asked miserably, “he's already rejected me. What will being a pest accomplish?”

“What, you'd rather wallow in your misery and not come up with some sort of solution?”

“Yes.”

“Fine then,” Hermione snapped as she stood up and glared at him, “be a child about it. I'll be in later to make sure you haven't starved to death because you were too busy sulking to remember to eat.”

Without waiting for a response, Hermione turned on her heel and stalked out.

~*~

Harry was once more left in peace, but after a few days he was unable to deal with the continued solitude, and returned to the territory. It felt good to be back, albeit terribly lonely. He saw to his duties, he hung around alternately with Tavish and Jade (and by extension her pups) but despite his best efforts, he still felt terribly hollow inside—even with half the subs (and even a few dominants) cheerfully offering to use Remus as a punch-bag the next time they saw him.

In the midst of his new, monotonous existence, Harry heard from Hermione much sooner than he had anticipated. Instead of seeing her at the next moon like he had anticipated, he received an owl from her barely a week after he'd returned to the territory.

Harry, (she wrote)

I feel just awful about our last argument, and I was hoping to make up to you with a dinner? Nothing fancy, just you, me, and Ron—he'll be cooking, I promise.

Let me know.

Love,
Hermione

“Are you gonna go?” Tavish asked the moment Harry had reached the bottom of the letter, and Harry found himself wholly unsurprised that his friend had been none-too-subtly reading over his shoulder.

“I suppose, no reason not to,” Harry replied with a small shrug as he tugged out a blank sheet of parchment and quickly drafted a response, agreeing to come. “But I can't help but feel like she might be...up to something.”

“Are you sure you're not reading too much into it?” Tavish asked as he arched a brow at him, and Harry laughed.

“When it's Hermione, it's best to tread cautiously,” Harry replied, “at least half the time she's got some ulterior motive planned.”

“You lot are the most paranoid bastards I've ever met, I swear,” Tavish replied with a laugh, and shook his head. “Whatever, I hope you enjoy your roasted Weasley or whatever.”

“Roasted Weasley?”

“Well, she did say that Ron's cooking...”

Harry stared, and Tavish grinned at him.

“You are never ever allowed to make fun of my bad jokes ever again.”

At this, Tavish threw his head back and laughed.

~*~

It was less than a week later that Harry found himself heading into Hogsmeade for the first time in what felt like years.

It was a Friday, and though it wasn't yet the week-end, the village's high street was still dotted with older students. Harry had Apparated to just outside Ron and Hermione's flat, and his nose was immediately assaulted by a familiar scent.

Hermione's still talking with Remus, Harry reminded himself, no way he'd be here, not after everything...

He shook his head, and tramped up to the door, where he knocked lightly.

“It's open!”

The muffled voice of his best mate filtered through the wood, and Harry let himself in. Like outside, he could smell the distinctive scent of his former partner around the space, but he tried to not let it get to him as he focused on the smell of Ron's cooking, which was almost as good as his mother's was. Harry could smell potatoes, fresh bread, and roasting meat, and immediately he felt his mouth begin to water.

“Hey, mate,” Ron greeted, but did not move from his place at the cooker while he basted the roast by hand, rather than use his wand for the task. “All right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry replied as he shrugged out of his cloak and hung it up, then kicked off his boots. “You?”

“Let's just say werewolf blood plus pregnancy hormones have made things...interesting around here.”

“I don't doubt it,” Harry said with a small snort, and sat down at the breakfast bar to watch Ron cook. “Where's Hermione, anyway?”

“Toilet,” Ron replied with a small grimace, “for the sixth time today. They call it morning sickness, but it seems more like all-the-time sickness, if you ask me.”

“Sounds like fun,” Harry observed, and Ron snorted.

“Can't remember when I've had more fun, mate, but it'll be worth it in the end, I think.”

“Unless my future godchild ends up hating you or something,” Harry said with a grin, and Ron groaned.

“Don't jinx it, Harry. I'm nervous enough about being a dad as it is...”

Distantly, Harry heard a toilet flush, and a moment later Hermione sauntered into the kitchen, her complexion slightly green, but otherwise she looked normal.

“Harry!” she chirped happily and hurried over to offer him a hug. “It's good to see you! Before we settle down, do you think you could help me with something?”

When she paused for his answer, she exchanged a significant look with Ron, and Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What d'you want help with?”

“Well, the thing is, our potions pantry door is jammed, and Ron and I can't get it open, and I was wondering if you'd give it a try? I'd normally use a charm, but some of the ingredients are a little delicate, and I'd rather not possibly ruin them, you see.”

She said all of this very fast, and the high lilt in her voice gave Harry the impression that she wasn't telling him the whole truth. At the same time, he doubted that something as innocuous as a jammed pantry door was anything dark or dangerous, and he saw no reason to decline the simple request.

“All right, sure,” he replied, and Hermione's entire demeanour brightened at once.

“Great, thanks, Harry,” she said brightly as she turned and motioned with her hand, “it's this way.”

Harry got up and followed her out of the kitchen, through the sitting room, and down the hall that led to the bedrooms. Squished between the toilet and the guest room was the pantry that Hermione had mentioned, and the odd angle in which the door sat crammed in its frame was certainly indicative of a jam.

Rotating his shoulders, Harry stepped for the door, and closed his hand over the handle. To his great surprise, it swung open without any resistance whatsoever, and he turned to Hermione, lips parted in question as he let go of the brass knob, only to yelp as a pair of hands shoved him hard, and he stumbled into the pantry, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Most strangely, when Harry stumbled into the small, enclosed space, he did not careen into a shelf of potions ingredients.

Instead, he hit something soft, something warm, and something by and large human-shaped.

Arms lifted to catch him in an instinctive move, and they both froze as they made contact with one another. The scent of the person—the man—was one that Harry knew very well, and he squinted up at the dark silhouette, uncertain whether or not he dared believe it.

“Remus?”

“Harry?”

“They got you too, eh?”

Remus chuckled at Harry's words, and his arms, still wrapped around him, tensed as though he wanted to let him go, but couldn't find the strength to do so.

The memory of their last encounter still burned in Harry however, and he stepped back. Remus immediately let him go. The pantry was just large enough for them to both stand in it with roughly a foot of space between them, and for the moment, Harry was taking all the space he could get.

“All right, Hermione,” Harry called out, turning his head a little, “We got the joke, now let us out.”

Silence.

“Hermione?”

No answer.

“Hermione,” Remus called, “this isn't funny. We'll talk if that's what you're hinting at, but this isn't the right way to go about it, especially considering what transpired the last time you had Harry here.”

Again, there was no response, and Harry rolled his shoulders nervously. He didn't like enclosed spaces at the best of times, but at least the presence of someone else made him feel marginally calmer, especially when it was someone who seemed to understand why Hermione's plan was so phenomenally stupid.

“I suppose she wants us to talk,” Harry said sourly, and he crossed his arms as he glared at Remus, though he wasn't certain that the man could see his expression in the dark.

“So it would seem,” Remus replied stiffly. “Harry, I'm sorry, when she had invited me, I had no idea she'd invited you as well or would do...well, this.”

“It seems like Hermione revels in locking me in confined spaces whenever I come round,” Harry remarked dryly, and Remus chuckled weakly.

“She always has your best interests at heart, even if her methods are a little...misguided.”

“That's very kind, Remus, but I believe the word you're looking for is mental.”

Remus chuckled again, and Harry watched his vague silhouette move, and suddenly the torch on the wall illuminated the small space.

He did not look happy. On the contrary, Remus looked close to petrified.

Something about the look broke something in Harry's mind, cleanly, like a piece of dry wood snapping in half, and he narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You rejected me, Remus,” Harry said, his voice cold and calm. Remus dropped his gaze.

“I know.”

“I laid myself bare, and you all but spat in my face.” Harry snarled the words, and Remus flinched as though Harry had hit him.

“I know that, Harry.”

“Do you, really?” Harry asked, his voice cracking a little, “I love you, you idiot. I love every single bloody part of you. I love your strength, I love your intelligence, I love your bravery...and I love the other parts, the broken parts; the parts you don't want me to see. I love everything that you are. I know that you love me, too, why would you do this to me—to us?”

“It's too risky, Harry,” Remus protested, his tone weak and pleading, “I don't want to hurt you—”

“—do you know what's hurting me, Remus?” Harry demanded as he interrupted him, “being apart from you. It's killing me not seeing you. I want you in my life, I don't care if you're the pinnacle of mental health or a total wreck—I'll take you any way I can have you. I love you.”

“Oh, Harry, I know,” Remus replied with a heavy sigh, his body sagging forward in defeat. “Things with you...they're wonderful, but they're also terrifying. I don't want to hurt you again. I've done more than enough damage to last a lifetime—two lifetimes.”

“I'm scared too, I hope you realize. The last thing I want is a repeat of all that's happened, but at the same time...” he trailed off, and rushed forward to close the distance between them. Remus tensed, but Harry ignored it as he linked his hands together at the small of Remus's back and buried his face in his chest. Harry inhaled, revelling in the scent of Remus, and how in that moment he felt well and truly where he ought to be.

“At the same time...?” Remus prompted weakly, his voice carrying the hint that he was almost afraid to know the answer. He seemed to be trembling slightly, but when his arms lifted and encircled Harry's waist in a mirror embrace to how Harry held onto Remus, Harry felt the dominant's entire body go still.

“Things never felt quite...right with Ulrich,” Harry replied, and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when he felt Remus relax. Once he was certain that his voice wouldn't escape him with a giggle, he continued. “I mean, he was never unkind to me, he was...he was perfect. He's what anyone could want, but...he wasn't you.”

“He wasn't...me?” Remus repeated. Harry did not miss the edge of surprise in his voice, and he once more needed to curb the temptation to laugh. And they call me thick.

“No, he wasn't,” Harry replied, though this time he was less successful in hiding his amusement, and the words escaped him more as a laugh than anything else. “I thought I was going mad, but...as pathetic as it might sound, I feel like despite our massive fuckups, I feel like...like...it's you. It's always been you. Even without the bond, I've never felt like this for anyone else, Remus. When I'm with you...half of me is on fire, going mad if I'm not touching you. The other half is so...still. Perfectly at peace, and knowing that this is where I need to be. You complete me, Remus.”

“Oh, Harry,” Remus breathed, and Harry shivered a little at the feeling of the older man's breath tickling his cheek, “I feel the same, but...I don't want to possibly hurt you, I'd rather kill myself than do that again.” His genuine fear rang through every word, and Harry's hold on him tightened.

Harry bit his lip, mildly overwhelmed at the sincerity he heard in Remus's voice. He knew that Remus meant it—he was doing all he could to not repeat history. However, Harry knew that some things were indeed different from last time—the absence of the bond that had messed them up so badly being the major one.

Taking a calculated risk, Harry pushed himself up on his toes, and his arms slid up the older man's back, stopping at his shoulders, and he felt Remus's breath catch. Harry did not pause, and did not allow himself to dwell on the bodily reaction. He'd waited so long—too long—to turn back now.

“The only thing that has ever hurt me is being apart from you,” Harry said sincerely, “please, please don't push me away again.”

His voice quivered, very close to a crack, and Remus's arms tensed around him. Harry blinked, and a tear dripped down his cheek. Remus lifted a hand to Harry's cheek, and immediately brushed it away.

“Please...” Harry whispered, his stoicism a complete lost cause as his voice trembled, and Remus lifted his other hand to cradle Harry's face gently.

“Oh, Harry...” Remus whispered, his voice just as weak as Harry's was, and he leant forward.

Their lips met, and Harry was overwhelmed with the sudden sense that at last, he had finally, truly, come home.
A/N: I was really on the fence about the pantry bit, and I got a lot of mixed responses from my test subjects. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it, rather than think it lame or something of a cop-out. ^.^;
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Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising