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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 5775 -:- 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
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A/N: Because I have to be a grownup on Tuesday, you guys get an early chapter. Enjoy and I'll see you guys next Tuesday! :)
Chapter 3 – Giving Up, Giving In

Hermione had promised to look into the problem for Harry, but with the next full moon closing in, Harry began to feel his panic threatening to engulf him again. Though he had assured her that he'd talk to Remus about everything, Harry's Gryffindor courage failed him rather spectacularly, and no matter how he tried, he just didn't have the nerve to bring it up. Harry thrust himself into a false everything is fine persona, and only allowed his pleasant smile to fall after Remus had fallen asleep.

Harry still could not articulate why he was so convinced that Remus was going to leave him. Hermione had theorized that it likely had something to do with his general track record with people he grew close to leaving in one way or another after a short period of time.

“I mean think about it Harry,” she said over lunch one day while they waited for their respective partners to show up, “your parents, Sirius, Ginny...at a certain point it just makes sense that you would develop some sort of an abandonment complex.”

“That's not as comforting as you think it is Hermione,” Harry muttered, and her face fell a little. Harry wasn't sure to make of her theory, or whether he should have been insulted by it or not. Belatedly, he wondered if she only said it to distract him from the pattern of bruises on his upper back that had yet to fade.

This was not for lack of trying, however. Harry and Remus had both tried spelling them off, using a variety of salves and poultices, and out of desperation Harry even tried to curse them off, but nothing helped. They didn't hurt badly or impede his mobility, but they did give Harry an unpleasant twinge if he put too much pressure on them.

With his fears becoming more and more pronounced with each passing day, Harry decided to refer to Hermione's novel of notes when Remus was elsewhere to see if it said anything about the werewolf leaving its human behind. What he found was less than reassuring.

There are very few documented cases of abandonment or separation within human-werewolf bonds. The nature of the bond is absolute, and there are precious few ways to break it. It is designed to enable the werewolf to protect its human at any cost, and while the werewolf depends upon the human reciprocating its advances to maintain mental and emotional stability, the human partner depends upon the werewolf completely whether they are aware of it or not.

If a werewolf chooses to leave their human partner, the human will often fall into a depressive state, and may show little interest in doing much of anything at all, save the bare minimum to stay alive. Such a reaction is not a conscious one, as the soul bound to its mate is pining, and in a literal sense cannot function properly if the human feels abandoned. This is very different from a Blocked bond, however.

Harry turned the page, and winced at the graphic image of a deeply emaciated human that more closely resembled a living skeleton than anything else. Below it, the text continued.

Why a werewolf would choose to block a bond to someone they purport to love is unclear. The results of such an action are akin to slicing a person in half, and leaving the rest of their body just out of reach, but impossible to get to. The human soul will feel the loss acutely, and will not function on its own without their mate. Humans who are subject to a blocked bond shut down entirely, refuse to eat, will not accept liquids, and will fall into something close to a catatonic state. Unless the werewolf returns to them, they will die of starvation and dehydration within a matter of weeks.

Harry shut the tome of notes, and brushed his hand over the worn cover. More than ever, he felt that confiding in Remus might just push him over the edge. Harry no longer cared if he was being selfish; he couldn't lose Remus, he just couldn't.

The morning of the full moon, Remus was practically radiating sexual energy, and Harry knew that that likely meant that he'd be distinctly bow-legged come sundown. Harry had been leaning against the frame of the back door, enjoying the crisp morning air when the older man gathered Harry into his arms and kissed him deeply. His hands moved at once to cup Harry's buttocks, and he couldn't help but laugh around the kiss. Harry had always found it rather funny how much Remus's sex drive around the full moon mirrored that of a seventeen-year-old boy.

“Is something amusing?” Remus purred, giving Harry's bum a gentle squeeze, the pair entirely ignorant to Kreacher not two feet away, preparing an overlarge breakfast for the pair of them.

“Just you,” Harry replied with a grin, and reached up to hold onto the older man while he pushed his torrent of negative thoughts to the back of his mind. This close to the full moon, Remus would easily be able to sense any anxieties he may have had, and Harry didn't want to unnecessarily distress him. “You're insatiable at this time of the month, it's funny. Like I'm involved with a teenager.” Remus leant in as Harry talked, trailing gentle, whiskery kisses along his jaw and down the side of his throat which was making it a little difficult for Harry to focus on his words.

“Hmm, well I've never heard you complain before,” he mused. One of Remus's hands slipped up from Harry's arse and snuck under the hem of his jumper, the callused fingertips tickling the skin of his lower back.

“Not complaining,” Harry murmured, pressing his forehead against his partner's shoulder, “just observing.” His breath hitched in a gasp, and he felt his feet begin to lift off the floor. Catching it in time, he wiggled out of the embrace before Remus could get too far. “Oh no you don't,” Harry glared a little, though he was still smiling, “I told you, quit picking me up.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Remus smirked most uncharacteristically, and Harry slowly began to inch towards the door to the dining room, as the glint in Remus's eye told him he wasn't getting out of it so easily.

“I told you Remus,” Harry did not fail to notice that Remus was inching along with him, clearly looking for an opening to grab him. The full moon always made him more than a little weird—especially of late—but in particular the additional dominance he exuded during this time was both funny and a little unnerving, depending on the situation. At the moment, Harry felt as though it might be a little of both.

“I don't like being picked up. Are you really going to do something that you know freaks me out?” Harry took another step back, but Remus's had expression was still carrying that playful, Marauder look in his eye, and Harry knew at once that he was in trouble. “Remus, don't you d—urk!” In one swift move that would not look out of place on a muggle Rugby field, Remus ran forward, crouched and hefted Harry onto his shoulder easily.

“Remus!” Harry cried out, wiggling feebly in the werewolf's strong grip. “I mean it! Put me down!” His attempts to get down on his own were met only with laughter, while he reached up and swatted Harry's arse once, eliciting another yelp from his partner. Ignoring Harry's protests completely, he carried him back up to the bedroom they'd left not fifteen minutes earlier.

Harry landed with a huff onto the made bed, and crossed his arms while he glared up at the smiling werewolf. “Are you ever going to listen to me when I say, 'don't pick me up'?”

“Probably not,” Remus replied smoothly as he crawled up to join Harry, straddling him and perching lightly on his groin. He leant in and caught Harry's lips in a feather-light kiss, and despite his irritation with his partner, he happily returned it. Remus reached up to cradle Harry's cheek in his warm hand, and his thumb brushed lightly over his cheekbone. Harry arched up slightly to deepen the kiss, shivering a little when he felt Remus's clothed erection pressing into his groin.

“You know this doesn't mean you're off the hook,” Harry murmured as his kisses began to migrate from his mouth to the line of his throat once more. “One of these days I will figure out a way to make you actually listen to me...” Harry's breath hitched, his body going rigid when he felt the familiar sting of teeth at his throat, and dug his nails into the duvet. “Remus...” Harry was surprised when his voice escaped him more like a whine, but the vocalization seemed only to spur the werewolf forward instead of give him pause, and Harry gasped as the pain increased.

Stopping just short of breaking the skin, Remus's tongue laved over the new bruise, then his mouth returned to Harry's for one last kiss before he was quickly relieved of his obstructive clothes.

Afterwards, Remus held him close, his fingers brushing over the newest teeth-shaped crescent bruises that marred Harry's skin. Harry winced, the injuries still stung and even with trying to not react, the minute cringe was enough to catch the older man's notice, and he looked away from Harry shamefully.

“I'm sorry Harry,” he murmured in a whisper so low Harry almost didn't catch it. “I—I don't know what's wrong with me...why I keep hurting you...”

At once, Harry rolled over in order to face Remus. His heart broke at the sight of him, his eyes riddled with guilt, horrified that he had lost himself and injured the one person whom he longed to protect.

“Remus,” Harry said softly, but the call of his name seemed to do little more than further increase his guilt. “Remus, would you look at me, please?”

Slowly, the werewolf looked up, and amber met emerald. Harry reached out and carefully cradled the older man's cheek in his hand, studying him carefully while he pushed back all his own insecurities. He leant in and kissed him gently, but did not go any further than a light kiss. Harry pulled back, and allowed Remus to pull him in close, pressing his cheek against the older man's chest.

“You would never do anything to hurt me intentionally,” Harry began, the fingertips of his right hand lightly ghosting over the faint tracery of scars upon the older man's chest. “I know you, Remus. Whatever this is...it's not your fault. It's a werewolf instinct thing we're not familiar with, and we'll figure it out.”

Remus held more tightly onto Harry, but he didn't answer.

~*~

At sundown, Harry found himself sitting perched on the end of their bed dressed in just a pair of jeans and little else. It appeared that Remus's sex drive this moon was higher than usual, and they hadn't left the bedroom for long, save for food and bathroom breaks, as well as pausing long enough for Remus to take his monthly dose of wolfsbane potion. Harry could hardly complain, but Remus found the fact that Harry would be walking funny for the next few days to be a significant ego-booster, much to Harry's annoyance.

Remus dropped out of the pyjama bottoms he'd been wearing, and strode naked to the window to watch the progression of the moon rising into the sky. Harry could see his back muscles tense as he braced himself for the change, and Harry stood quickly to join him, rubbing at the taut muscles in an effort to calm him, though Remus did not seem to notice Harry's presence. It was hardly a rejection in the strictest sense of the word, as Remus seemed too lost to the pull of the moon, but it still felt painfully like he'd been brushed aside. Harry struggled to ignore the pang of worry in his chest at this reaction and focused his attention upon his partner.

The change came as it always did; Remus's body went rigid, his jaws locked open and his eyes bulged as he stared sightlessly ahead of him. A pained moan escaped him as his legs buckled and Harry caught him so that he wouldn't fall. Harry watched helplessly as Remus's bones snapped and reformed, his jaw lengthened, and thick fur sprouted from every follicle.

Harry took a step back and sat down on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest and his back pressed into the side of their bed. The enormous werewolf did not move for a moment, and Harry watched Remus in silence while the creature's mind caught up with its physical transformation.

After a moment, the werewolf turned to face him, its head cocked to the side, and Harry felt himself tense. Something was off, though at first Harry couldn't tell exactly what it was. It was something in the way the creature was looking at him, almost like Moony didn't recognize him.

Moony stepped forward, and a low growl escaped him, his lips curled back in a snarl. Harry's eyes bulged and he froze his movements completely, not even daring to breathe.

Still growling, Moony approached him, and in a panic he remembered distantly Hermione's claim that a werewolf would never hurt their human partner—even in wolf form. If that was true, then what was happening?

Moony stopped directly in front of him. Trembling slightly, Harry clenched his eyes shut and tilted his head to the side to expose his throat to the large creature, and he felt the werewolf's cold nose bump against his hot skin. Instantly, Moony's growl shifted to a whine, and when Harry opened his eyes he saw the creature sitting before him, ears flat against his head, and its gaze downcast, as though he was trying to apologize to Harry.

Harry reached out nervously, and when Moony did not react negatively to the small movement he combed his fingers through the thick fur, and bumped his cheek to the side of the werewolf's muzzle in an affectionate gesture. The werewolf's ears perked up, and he moved away from Harry's touch to nudge his shoulder gently. At first, Harry was uncertain what he wanted, but Moony nudged his shoulder more insistently, and Harry realized that he was trying to get him to turn around. Puzzled, he complied. The moment he moved, Moony let out a soft whine as he prodded at the marks along the back of Harry's shoulders and neck with the tip of his nose, making Harry wince at the dull ache such an action caused. Moony continued to whimper as he inspected every inch of his upper back, and it seemed to Harry as though Moony was distressed over the presence of the marks.

A rough wet tongue laved over the back of his shoulder. Harry started a little in surprise, but when he went to move away, a low, warning growl met the reaction. Harry froze and eased back into position, resigning himself to receiving what he assumed a puppy's first bath might feel like. The rough tongue lapped at the marks dotted across the back of his neck and shoulders in thick clusters. Each swipe of the great tongue stung and made his muscles twitch, but after a few minutes of enduring the supposed puppy-bath, Harry realized that the pain was beginning to fade.

Harry didn't know for certain, but it distinctly felt like whatever Moony was doing to him was healing his marks. Harry had never heard of a werewolf's saliva having restorative powers, but he vaguely recalled that it was supposed to be good to let a dog lick an open wound. He wondered if perhaps it was similar with a werewolf...assuming they didn't rip your intestines out first. Harry closed his eyes and felt himself relaxing under the strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation, knowing that even if he hadn't wanted Moony to do it, he'd have little say on the matter in the werewolf's current form.

He did not know how much time had passed; it could have been minutes or hours, Harry wasn't certain, but abruptly he felt the tongue cease, and heard the soft click of Moony's nails against the hardwood. Harry opened his eyes to see the enormous wolf, his mouth open in a wolfish smile, his tail high and wagging vaguely and in that moment looking so much like an overgrown puppy that Harry almost laughed. He nudged Harry's cheek affectionately, and Harry responded by reaching up to pat the side of Moony's maw.

Harry stood up and padded to the bathroom, though despite his suspicions being validated, it was still a shock to see himself reflected in the mirror, and see that every love-bite (or whatever they were) had been healed. Harry rotated his shoulders, and he felt no residual muscle pain either, and he looked down to the werewolf, who was sitting just outside the open bathroom door, waiting for him.

He stepped back over to Moony, and threaded his fingers through the thick fur while he said, “Thanks Moony.” Moony lifted his head and bumped his nose and muzzle against Harry's forearm.

The entire experience had left Harry feeling exhausted, and he made quick work of his nighttime rituals—with his enormous, wolf-shaped shadow at his heels—and stripped before burrowing under the covers. His mind was filled with confusion over what had just happened; after everything that had been going on with Remus in his human form, Harry felt like it would have been more likely that Moony would bite and turn him, instead of healing the marks. He made a mental note to ask Hermione as Moony climbed up with him, turned on the spot and curled up at Harry's side with a contented huff, his head perched lightly against Harry's blanket-clad hip as they both relaxed and fell asleep.

—Moony growled his approval, nudging his submissive gently, and Harry willingly tumbled onto his back and exposed his throat to the dominant wolf. Moony's jaws closed briefly over it; his bite not even hard enough to bruise before he released the smaller wolf, and urged him to his feet before he nudged Harry towards the depths of the forest.

Mouth open in a wolfish grin, Harry caught the hint at once and took off, disappearing into the gloom. Thick trunks appeared out of the dark, its canopies blotting out the moon, and Harry wove though the trees at breakneck speed, his heightened senses aiding him in keeping from running into any. Harry could hear the crash in the underbrush of Moony hot on his tail—

Harry jerked awake and sat up with a sharp gasp. It took him a moment to realize that he was shaking, and when he swiped a trembling hand across his forehead, he also found that he was drenched in cold sweat. As he slowly calmed down, he tried to work out the connection between his bodily reaction and the dream itself.

Harry couldn't quite work out why his waking was the same as if he'd had a horrific nightmare. The dream itself could definitely qualify as a good dream—or at the very least a pleasant dream. He wasn't entirely certain how he felt about his subconscious portraying him as a werewolf beneath Remus in some sort of strange social standing however. Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember bits of the dream, but like with all the dreams of this nature that he'd experienced, the details slipped away like water through his cupped fingers.

Harry's gaze shifted to the being he shared his bed with. It couldn't have been more than a few hours, given that Remus had not yet changed back, and the sight of the werewolf, paired with his dream made him feel even more anxious than usual. It didn't take a genius to work out what his subconscious was alluding to, but was it just by association, being with a werewolf, therefore dreaming of werewolves, or was there something that Harry was missing? He shook his head violently to clear it, but he was still stuck on the image of himself as something other than human.

Harry genuinely had no idea how he felt about becoming a werewolf. Given his partner, and knowing that accidents do happen, he knew that it was a very real risk. He knew it wasn't a death sentence, but Harry wasn't ignorant to the prejudice Remus had been privy to for most of his life—something he now shared, to an extent. The idea of that level of rejection potentially from friends as well as complete strangers scared Harry more than he'd like to admit.

Hermione and Ron already look at me so differently since this bond with Remus happened, Harry thought miserably as he settled back down and burrowed into the warm fur of his sleeping partner. I don't know if I could handle them treating me differently if I suddenly wasn't human, or if they hurt or blamed Remus for it. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his head against Moony's flank, and allowed the steady rhythm of his breathing to lull him back to sleep.

~*~

“I haven't found anything yet,” Hermione said grumpily, and Harry stared at her blankly as they both headed across the Atrium and towards the lift.

“I was gonna say good morning,” Harry said with a frown, and Hermione went a little pink.

“Sorry,” she said, “just with the wedding and Molly pelting me with a flock of owls every morning...it's a bit chaotic.”

“I guess there are upsides to Molly Weasley disapproving of one's relationship after all,” Harry tried to joke, but it came out rather flat, and he winced as he shot her an apologetic look.

“Erm, have there been any developments over...the thing you told me about?” Hermione asked, casting a quick glance to the two older Ministry employees that stood in the lift with them.

“Yeah, actually,” Harry said, and upon catching her worried look, he barrelled forward quickly. “Remember the...thing I showed you at the café?” He asked, lifting a hand to rest at the back of his neck in what could be perceived as a casual gesture, but Hermione caught his meaning and nodded for him to continue. “Well, two nights ago,” Harry emphasized, hinting that the full moon had, in fact, been two nights ago, “they were healed by...um...him.”

At the same moment, the two Ministry workers exited the lift, and both Harry and Hermione relaxed.

“Oh thank God,” she said with a relieved sigh, and turned back to him. “Your code makes no sense,” she said at once, “Explain properly.”

“Erm, well, after Remus transformed, there was a moment where it seemed like he didn't recognize who I was, but after he smelt that it was me he calmed down, and then he kind of coaxed me to turn and sort of tended to the bruises,” Harry explained, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as he spoke, “and when he stopped tending to them I went to check in the mirror, and they were all gone.”

“Hm,” Hermione cradled her chin in her hand, “very strange. Remus not recognizing you in his other form, even on wolfsbane—he is taking wolfsbane, right?” She asked quickly, and Harry nodded. “Well, a reaction like that, my best guess is that your bond with him is weakening, but I don't see why it would...” She paused again, her expression pensive. While Harry felt his stomach roil at the implication. “Have you at least talked to him about your dreams?”

Harry swallowed nervously, and his hesitation in speaking seemed to be answer enough, and she glared at him.

“Harry, I know you really don't want to, but Remus will probably have more answers than I do. You really should talk to him,” Hermione said, clearly frustrated, but sympathetic too, which he appreciated. “I'll look into what I can—when I can, but, Harry, like I said before, it's not healthy to let things fester.”

“I'll try,” Harry said with a defeated huff, “once he's recovered from this moon, I promise I'll try and think of something to say, all right?”

“That's a good start Harry,” she said with an encouraging smile, “thing will work out, you'll see.”

Smiling weakly at her to mask the fact that he seriously doubted that, while he lifted his hand in a half-wave as they reached his level and he stepped off.

~*~

“You smell like fear,” the sudden pronouncement startled Harry, and he turned to Remus, who had been sitting next to him on the sofa. Harry had been burrowed into his side, cradling a cup of tea in his hands, with his eyes lost in the crackling fire.

It had been nearly a full week since his conversation in the lift with Hermione, and he had yet to figure out how to talk to Remus about his nightly dreams. Harry had been awash with worry over what the dreams could possibly mean, in particular as they progressed in intensity, and every single time Harry awoke soaked with sweat and panting hard as though he'd been running. He did not like how physically taxing they felt, and despite his promise to Hermione, he hadn't said a word to Remus, in a vain hope that he'd hear something from her before he had to bring it up.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Harry asked, while a hand moved to toy with the flyaway hairs at the back of his neck, and Harry's eyes slid shut at the gentle, familiar touches.

“Don't play dumb,” Remus said, his tone a familiar, even calm, neither suspicious nor accusing. “You've been in a right state since the full moon, and even before that you smelt...afraid. Have I done something to frighten you? I mean, besides...” he trailed off, and his hand moved to hover over Harry's left shoulder blade, where they both knew fresh marks were hidden beneath his T-shirt.

“No,” Harry said as he opened his eyes and looked back into the fire, while he sent his cup to the coffee table with a lazy flick of his wand, and burrowed more deeply into Remus's embrace. “It's not you, not even...that. I've just been, I dunno, feeling kind of weird.” Harry swallowed nervously and hoped that the near-blinding fear that now consumed him was a huge overreaction on his part.

“Weird how?” Remus asked while he shifted to part his legs and wrapped both arms around Harry's waist, pulling him in so that his back pressed into the werewolf's front, and his thighs rested on either side of Harry's hips. His pointed chin rested gently against Harry's shoulder, and he felt deeply comforted by his presence—but anxious at the same time.

“I've been...having these dreams,” Harry paused, his hands resting over Remus's, the frequently present fear of abandonment reared to the surface of his mind as he spoke. “They feel like the prophetic dreams I used to have about Voldemort, but they're not...bad, I guess you could say. I don't really know what to make of them, because the dreams themselves aren't scary, or traumatic or anything, but when I wake up I'm always in a right state.” Remus moved one hand to Harry's upper arm and rubbed it consolingly as he spoke, and Harry could feel that Remus felt almost as tense as he was.

“What are these dreams about?”

“You and me,” Harry paused when Remus's hand froze on his bicep, and Harry tensed slightly. “It's always the same, it's...we're in a forest and it's the full moon...and you're in your wolf form, and...” Harry paused again, trying to gauge the reaction Remus might have, but the older man did nothing but wait for Harry to continue. “And...and so am I,” his courage failed him and the words came out in a voice barely above a whisper, but the instantaneous reaction was so sudden and so violent, it was almost as though Harry had screamed them.

Remus threw Harry away from him as though his flesh had burned him, and he jumped up and staggered back from Harry with his eyes widen in shock and fear. The sharp movement had thrown Harry face-first into the other end of the sofa with a startled yelp. He sat up quickly and turned to look at Remus, hurt by the reaction and afraid what he might do next. Remus stumbled back into the coffee table and knocked it out of place, causing the teapot and cups to tumble to the floor and shatter, their contents spilling everywhere. Remus only stopped moving when his back met the side of the fireplace, and he stared at Harry like he'd suddenly transformed into a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“No...oh, no Harry,” he breathed, his tone almost mournful.

“What's wrong?” Harry stood up slowly, but resisted the urge to go to his partner. In that moment, Remus looked less like a werewolf and more like a frightened deer facing a hunter. “Remus, please, talk to me. What is it?”

“You don't want this, Harry,” he whispered in the same terrified tone, “you can't want this.”

“What are you talking about? Remus, it was only a dream, I never said I wanted to be—” Harry had begun to step forward tentatively forward, but Remus lurched back as though Harry was about to strike him.

“This is wrong,” Remus said in a panic, his breath shifting to rapid hyperventilation, “I—I can't do this to you. I can't be here.” Before Harry could say two words, Remus broke away from the wall he'd pinned himself to and tore towards the door.

“Remus, wait!” Harry chased after him, but his preternatural strength and speed, in addition to his slightly longer limbs enabled Remus to get there first. He threw the door open, and with a sharp crack of Disapparition, he was gone.
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck