Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: In this chapter there will be mention of an OC named Ciara, but I mean the Irish pronunciation of it, which is Kira(keer-ah). I won't be posting again until two days after I turn 28 years old. Which, lucky for you guys, is in like 2 weeks—May 5^th. :P I promise I'm doing my best to get enough done to go up to weekly updates, but alas real life stuff sometimes gets in the way of me writing as much as I want (like finals. Nyeeeh.) It's roughly about halfway done, and as I have said before, once the first draft is fully complete I'll start posting weekly.
Chapter Three – This Too Shall Pass

The days passed, and slowly Harry began to acclimate to his new life with the pack.

Most unfortunately, in the whirlwind of newness, Harry had quite forgotten one important thing—werewolves did not feel the same way about nudity that wizards did. As a result, his first few mornings and evenings in the Sub House he was subject to a houseful of half-naked women prancing about as they changed.

This was something of a minor problem; Harry wasn't completely gay, after all, and it took a great amount of self control to keep his eyes to himself—and to covertly take care of the problems that this caused in the bath, though he was certain that he hadn't managed to hide his 'problem' from the others very well—if Tavish's lewd grins at him were anything to go by.

With the dominant wolves, Harry didn't have any problems keeping his eyes to himself. They all reminded him of Remus in one way or another, and his heartbreak far eclipsed any desire that he may have felt at gazing upon their sweat-slicked bare chests as they returned from a hunt, with deer or boar carcasses draped over their shoulders as though they weighed nothing; or when they were tending to firewood, or any other such tasks that were deemed too physically taxing for a 'delicate' sub like himself.

The other major change that Harry had struggled to get used to was the dire warnings that he shouldn't wander off alone, and he quickly discovered that that could extend to being a mere few feet from the other submissives. Harry had learnt this the hard way when on his third night a brazen dominant that he knew by face but not by name sauntered up to him and pulled Harry flush against his chest without a word.

Harry yelped in surprise as the of the dominant's arms clamped around his waist, while the large man buried his nose in the crook of Harry's neck to inhale deeply, and his long dirty blond hair fell forward to tickle Harry's cheek unpleasantly.

“Hmm, you smell divine, little one,” he purred, “why don't you warm my bed tonight?”

“I don't even know you,” Harry protested as he squirmed in the hold, but the man didn't release him, “let go.”

“Oh, come now, don't play hard to get,” he said as he laughed in a good-natured sort of way, and nipped at Harry's throat, while his free hand moved to rest over his left buttock, and gave it a sharp squeeze, “I know you'll enjoy yourself.”

“I'm not playing hard to get,” Harry ground out, “I'm not interested. Let me go!” Harry jerked his leg forward, aiming for the man's groin, but he caught Harry's knee between his thighs without much effort. The situation caused Harry mental state to shift quickly towards genuine panic, just when a large hand closed over his upper arm, and Harry was suddenly wrenched out of the dominant's hold.

Ulrich stepped between Harry and the other dominant, and he heard a low growl rent the air, though he couldn't tell if it came from Ulrich or the other werewolf.

“Bryce, how many times?” Ulrich demanded, “this pack does not treat their subs like toys. If Harry says no, then I expect you to walk away, not manhandle him further.”

“Letting sub males run around unchecked, practically begging to be claimed is no way to run a pack,” Bryce countered as he drew himself up to his full height and threw out his chest, though he was still an inch or two shorter than Ulrich. “If I were in charge—”

“—well, you're not,” Ulrich snapped, “we do not treat subs like they are beneath us. I don't want to see you bothering Harry again, is that clear?”

“It's this kind of namby-pamby, wishy-washy attitude that lost you Corrine in the first place,” Bryce snarled, and in an instant the werewolf was on the ground with Ulrich's hand at his throat.

Harry jumped back in alarm at the sudden attack—he hadn't even seen the beta move, and his speed was more than a little frightening. Harry heard Ulrich snarl something at Bryce, though from his place he couldn't hear what it was. After a moment, Ulrich released him and the other dominant took off, grumbling under his breath as he went.

Ulrich immediately turned to Harry and rested his hands gently on his shoulders, clear concern in his dark gaze.

“Are you all right?” he asked, “did he hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” Harry replied at once, now painfully aware that everyone nearby had been watching the exchange unabashedly. Ulrich regarded him oddly, and Harry forced a faint smile, “really, I am.”

“All right,” Ulrich said, though it was quite clear that he didn't believe him, “well, if he comes back just let me know, yeah?” Ulrich gave Harry's shoulders a small squeeze, then let him go. He turned and made a beeline for Greyback, who had begun to approach them, presumably to find out what had happened.

Harry turned from the two leaders and quickly rejoined the other subs; he found himself caught between relief that Ulrich had stepped in, and frustration at himself for his complete inability of taking care of it on his own. He had thought that once he was free of Remus and the bond, he would feel more like himself again, and not like some weakling that was in constant need of rescuing.

“Hey, you okay?” Tavish bumped Harry's hip with his own in a friendly gesture, and Harry nodded weakly.

“I hate feeling like this—like such a...victim,” Harry said with a grimace, “what did I do to make that bastard grab at me like that?”

“You didn't do anything,” Tavish hissed at once, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise at how angry his new friend sounded. “Some of these dominants don't or refuse to understand the concept of boundaries. Bryce is one of the worst for that, though. You said no, he didn't listen, but maybe now he will—now that Ulrich has knocked some sense into him, and it looked like Alpha is about to remind him of that, too.”

Harry didn't respond. In spite of the reassurance, it didn't make him feel any better, nor did watching Greyback storm across the territory to where Bryce was standing. The alpha then proceeded to beat the holy hell out of him in full view of the rest of the pack, the expression upon his face reminding Harry more of a superior or professor giving their employees or students a reprimand, and not a violent beating.

What shocked Harry more than the violence itself however, was the complete lack of reaction from anyone who was watching. Even people not ten feet away acted like they couldn't see what was happening right in front of them, or regarded it with a look of boredom or disinterest. Harry forced his gaze away, and he and Tavish slipped over to the bonfire, where they sat a little ways away from the others that also occupied the space.

“Who's Corrine?” Harry asked once they'd gotten settled, “I heard Bryce mention her about three seconds before Ulrich went berserk.”

At first, it seemed as though Tavish might not answer. He pressed his lips together into a thin line and he gazed into the fire. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft that Harry had to lean in very close to hear him clearly.

“Corrine was Ulrich's mate—years ago,” Tavish explained, “Ulrich practically worshipped her, and she adored him. I don't think I've ever seen two people so much in love.” Tavish paused, and a small, sad smile spread across his face. Harry felt his stomach clench—he had a feeling that this story wasn't going to have a happy ending.

“Back then,” he continued, “it was fairly common in most werewolf packs for the subs to serve the dominants. We had to obey them at the drop of a hat...it was awful.” Tavish's voice broke, and he fell silent again, his gaze fixed firmly on the crackling fire.

“Dominants ran everything,” Tavish continued, “if one of them wanted us in their bed, we had to do it, or risk a beating, at the very least. A lot of male subs died for being too wilful. The female subs had it worse, because any dom who wanted children could just take one of the females, and they would be forced to carry as many or as few children as their dominant wanted of them.” Tavish paused again and shivered, and a haunted look formed in his eyes that Harry didn't like seeing on someone who was normally so cheerful. “But then Greyback became Alpha, and Ulrich got the Beta position. He changed everything and made it better.

“Even though female subs are known for being super fertile and stuff, Corrine wasn't. She and Ulrich tried for years and years for pups, and it just wouldn't happen. Around when Alpha started changing how the subs were treated, Corrine finally got pregnant, and another sub, Ciara—she'd always been jealous of Corrine, and back then, despite the power dynamics, it wasn't uncommon for subs to fight over dominants, and she poisoned her with quicksilver. Ulrich lost Corrine and the pups she was carrying, and he literally tore Ciara limb from limb.”

Tavish looked down at his hands as he finished the tale, with a small frown on his face. Harry felt a pull at his heart, and he lifted his gaze over to Ulrich, who was still watching Bryce with narrowed eyes. It was hard to believe that Ulrich could even smile after enduring something like that.

“Anyone who dares mention Corrine is asking for a beating, at the very least,” Tavish said, pulling Harry from his thoughts, “he never showed romantic interest in anyone ever again, not until—” Tavish broke off and cleared his throat, “—he mourned her for a long time. I think, in a way, he'll probably never get over her. Corrine was...special.”

As Tavish finished, Harry found himself uncertain what to say. He wasn't stupid—he knew that Tavish had been about to say that Ulrich was interested in him—but he wasn't certain how he felt about that. He didn't know whether or not he was ready to move on so soon, and at the same time, if he chose to try, how could he even possibly compare to someone like this Corrine, who seemed to have been so special to him?

“Harry? You okay?” Tavish asked, and his sad tone of voice shifted to one of concern. Harry blinked and looked up, and forced himself to nod a little.

“Fine,” Harry replied at once, so quickly that Tavish regarded him dubiously. “Really, I am. I just...everything out here is the exact opposite of what I was told.”

“Wizards love to demonize us,” Tavish replied with a bitter smirk, and Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been thrown back in time by ten years, and he heard Snape's sneering voice in his head, turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four. All Snape had focused on was how to kill werewolves. The truth behind Tavish's words sent a shiver through Harry.

“You're not wrong,” Harry agreed, “I just mean, everything R-Remus told me,” Harry winced as he voiced his name, and he felt his stomach turn over again, “it's...Greyback is more like some kind of Saviour than the monster that I saw...back then.” His gaze shifted over to Ulrich again, who had joined one of the subs in keeping the children occupied. He was laughing and swinging a little blonde girl around by her armpits, and she was laughing and squealing with delight. Once more, Harry was amazed by his strength in being able to move on after going through something as horrible as that.

“We all had to do things that we didn't want to during the Wizarding War,” Tavish replied, drawing Harry's attention back to him, and he was smiling sadly. Harry was fairly certain that they had been on opposite sides during the war, and he wasn't keen to discuss those days. They were behind him, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was think about it.

“Yeah, we did,” Harry agreed at last, and stared into the crackling flames of the bonfire as the pair fell into comfortable, thoughtful silence.

~*~

It was a few days later that Greyback sought Harry out.

He was by the bonfire again, a deck of muggle playing cards out, and he was teaching muggle poker to Tavish and a few curious dominants, who thankfully kept their hands to themselves. This, Harry suspected, was because Ulrich was watching them all like a hawk. He wasn't certain just how polite and respectful they would have been had the beta not been present.

“Potter,” Greyback grunted, and Harry's gaze snapped up at once.

“Yeah?” he asked while he eyed the alpha nervously.

“Come with me,” Greyback ordered, and Harry jumped up at once. Obeying Greyback so readily was a bit of a strange concept for Harry, but he had a feeling that Greyback would have no qualms about beating him down if he tried to disobey. He had no desire to be deliberately defiant, but the confusing mixture of old and new impressions of the alpha wolf made it more than a little confusing.

Without a word, Greyback led him over to the supply cave, and Harry tried to shake the edging nervousness that had settled in the pit of his stomach at being alone not just with a dominant, but a powerful dominant. After what had happened with Bryce, Harry wasn't exactly keen to repeat the experience.

“I have been trying to decide on what duties to assign you that will cause me the least amount of bitching from you, and the lowest likelihood that you'll fuck it up,” Greyback growled, and Harry frowned as he felt his face burn. “From what I know of your history, you attract trouble like rotting meat attracts flies.”

“I don't ask for it,” Harry replied rigidly, “it just sort of...happens.”

Greyback grunted, and eyed Harry for a long moment, and there seemed to be some sort of war going on there, as though he was reluctant to actually say whatever it was that he had decided on.

“Some of the younger pack members have expressed interest in learning...wizard magic,” Greyback said, and let out a low growl as he wrinkled his nose with disgust, “I have heard that you were not completely inept at such things. Would be interested in teaching them?”

For a moment, Harry didn't say anything at all. His shock at the offer had completely struck him dumb, and he floundered as he tried to find his voice again. Of all the jobs he'd expected to be assigned, teaching a bunch of kids hadn't even made the list.

“I...but...don't you hate wizard magic?” Harry asked, and Greyback growled again.

“I do,” he snapped, “I detest it. It has been a constant threat to my pack for years.” his tone of voice raised in a rapid crescendo to something just short of a shout, and he was breathing hard like an angry bull as he forced himself to calm down. When he next spoke, his voice was much more even, but still shook with anger. “However, the last time I outright refused to allow the pups to learn it, a handful of them took off, apparently intent on going to that infernal wizard school of yours, and were killed by werewolf hunters. I'd rather that not happen again, so I'm willing to bend my own rules to keep any more of them from trying something so stupid. Do you accept?”

“I—well, yes, of course, but I'll need supplies...books, wands for the kids, most of my old textbooks are gone,” Harry explained, and Greyback inclined his head once.

“Make a list of what you need, and I'll have someone escort you to Diagon Alley,” Greyback replied with a grunt, and already he looked as though he was regretting the decision.

“I will, and, er...thank you, Greyback...Alpha,” Harry said, and his jumbled words of gratitude seemed to stop Greyback short. He turned to look at him, and Harry quickly explained, “I was expecting something...well, something else. Not this.”

“You are pack,” Greyback replied simply, “I am not in the business of making my packmates miserable.”

Without another word, the alpha stalked off and left Harry standing alone in the cave.

Two days later, Harry found himself more than a little overwhelmed.

At the time, teaching a bunch of werewolf pups wizard magic didn't seem so complicated. That is, until Harry realized that well over thirty kids raging from ten to nineteen wanted to learn from Harry, and he was caught between feeling humbled that they regarded him so highly, and deeply embarrassed. Like many wizards, their reasons for wanting to learn from Harry weren't completely pure—they wanted to be close to the man who had taken down Red Moon. Many times, Harry wanted to remind them that it hadn't been him alone, but mentioning Remus was still difficult, and had thus resorted to simple, humble responses to their praise.

Ulrich continued to check in on him often. By the way the dominant's eyes would always linger on him in these moments, Harry had a feeling that he wasn't just checking up on him simply to make sure that he was all right, as he had kept insisting, but Harry had yet to try and call him out on it.

“That looks like fun,” a voice above Harry mused late one afternoon, and he glanced up to see Tavish standing over him and grinning widely. Harry looked back down to the list he'd been working on of supplies and possible subjects to teach, then back up to his friend and mirrored his grin.

“Yeah, loads,” Harry replied sarcastically, “who knew teaching a bunch of teenagers was so much bloody work.” Tavish plopped down next to him, and leant over to study the list he'd made.

“Transfiguration...Charms...Defence Against the Dark Arts...that's it?”

“Well, I figured that living out here they don't really need to learn the intricacies of History of Magic, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination, or Muggle Studies, and I'm nowhere good enough at Potions to feel confident teaching it,” Harry explained distractedly as he moved his self-inking quill over to the list of books he'd made, and scratched off The Monster Book of Monsters. He paused and pressed the quill into the parchment while looked up to the other werewolf. “To be honest, I'm surprised that Greyback even allowed this at all,” Harry said as his voice dropped to a whisper, “I mean, he hates humans, doesn't he?”

Tavish didn't answer straightaway, and instead his gaze dropped to his lap. He looked troubled, but thoughtful as he picked at a loose thread on his jeans. Harry waited for nearly a full minute before Tavish finally lifted his gaze and refocused his attention on Harry.

“Alpha has more reason than most to hate humans—wizards, especially,” he explained softly, “it's not really my place to tell the story, but he was turned when wizards still hunted werewolves for sport. He has seen a lot of horrible things in his time, and he will do anything—and I mean anything to keep his pack safe.”

As Tavish spoke, a look of genuine adoration crossed his face, and he did not miss the brief flick of Tavish's gaze over to the alpha, who had been in deep conversation with Adina. Tavish did not explain it, but offered Harry a small smile, clapped him on the shoulder, and left him alone with his thoughts and work.

~*~

A week later, Harry found himself making ready to head back into the world he'd left behind.

He wasn't exactly keen to go back, and he was certain that it would have gotten out by now that he'd been turned. As a result, Harry was currently sitting in front of the lavatory mirror in the Sub House, his wand pointed at his face as he muttered under his breath, minutely adjusting his facial features, at least enough to not make him recognizable.

“Hey, Harry,” Tavish said as he let himself in, “are you ready to—wha?” the fellow sub stared at Harry, who now sported a full beard trimmed close to his skin, his eyes were dark blue, and his scar was missing.

“Call it insurance,” Harry explained with a snort, “I'd rather not get recognized, if I can help it.” Harry's faint grin fell when Tavish's expression darkened, and he frowned. “What?”

“Are you ashamed to be seen by wizards as a werewolf?” Tavish asked icily, “'cause walking around with Ulrich, they'll definitely be able to tell what you are, no matter wh—”

“—no!” Harry interrupted, eyes wide with horror as he realized how Tavish had perceived his actions. “God, no, it's not like that. It's just that in the wizarding world, I'm still The Boy Who Lived, or the Chosen One, or whatever the hell they're calling me now,” Harry explained, wrinkling his nose, “I get singled out all the fucking time. I just...I want to be able to go to Diagon Alley without being accosted.” And not be harassed for now being The Werewolf Who Lived, either, Harry thought sourly.

“Oh,” Tavish said with a small frown, and for a moment seemed to be at a loss for words in his embarrassment at his assumption. “Well, er, whenever you're ready, Ulrich is outside.”

Harry nodded his thanks, then the man made a quick getaway. He paid it no mind as turned back to the mirror, and spelled his hair more or less flat (though it didn't work nearly as well as Harry had hoped), then made his way outside.

As Tavish had said, Ulrich was waiting outside the Sub House, arms crossed across his chest as he leant against its wooden siding. He stared in confusion when Harry stepped outside, and quickly repeated his explanation to the older werewolf as he had with Tavish before he could jump to the wrong conclusion.

“You really get that much attention in public?” Ulrich asked, disbelief in his tone as he turned and led Harry through the houses and towards the territory's Apparition point.

“Unfortunately,” Harry replied with a grimace, “I can't walk into a bloody bookshop without making the front page of the Daily Prophet. It's not something I really enjoy.” Harry bowed his head as they walked, and glared at his shoes.

“I think I could have worked that much out for myself,” Ulrich replied with a soft chuckle, and Harry's gaze whipped up to him, blinking in confusion. “You always look really uncomfortable when you're the centre of attention—it's kind of hard to miss.”

Harry had no idea what to say to that, and merely offered the dominant a weak smile.

The Apparition trip to Diagon Alley was uneventful, and Harry was counting his blessings for his disguise—as they crossed The Leaky Cauldron's threshold into the Alley, Harry caught sight of a discarded newspaper. The front page displayed a photograph of him and Remus from more than a year earlier, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, both of them laughing and chatting over enormous sundaes. The look he regarded Remus with in the photograph was one of love, and complete adoration. He could see Remus mirroring it back at him, and Harry felt almost as though he might be sick with anguish at the loss.

Happier days... Harry thought as his throat grew tight. He hardly gave the headline, HARRY POTTER'S WEREWOLF LIFE more than a passing glance—his attention was fixed solely on the photograph, and his memories.

“Come on, Harry,” Ulrich said softly, drawing Harry out of his thoughts, and back to the present, “let's get this done.”

The edge of unease in Ulrich's voice made clear how he felt about being surrounded by so many wizards, and Harry nodded a little. He forced himself to walk past the rubbish bin where the paper lay, and resisted the sudden urge he had to snatch it up to preserve the photograph. Despite his best efforts over the last weeks, it was harder than he had expected to completely let go of what he had lost.

“Are you all right?” Ulrich asked as they walked, and Harry almost laughed at the ridiculous question.

“No, I'm not,” Harry replied, his voice thick with emotion, “but it'll pass.”
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising