Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18455 -:- 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: Annnnnd first draft complete. I'm up to posting twice a week: Mondays & Thursdays, and I've already started work on book 2. I'm having a ton of fun with this fic, and I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am!

Chapter 4 – Wreckoning

Harry woke the next morning feeling a great deal calmer than he had the night before. Ginny's naked form was curled in his arms, her head perched lightly against his chest. Her cheeks were still tinted a faint shade of pink over her freckles, and she looked completely at peace. Seeing her now, Harry felt his heart break a little for her. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like, being more or less forced into giving their partner to someone else. Harry sighed softly and held her close, the inevitability of having to let her go left him feeling painfully hollow. He wished he had more time to come to terms with this, to work through the agonizing mess of his panic-stricken mind, and he wished he had the strength to let Ginny go, so that she wouldn't have to be the one to do it.

Harry spent an hour watching Ginny sleep before she began to stir. By then, he had worked himself into a fresh state panic at the choice facing him—leave Ginny, or risk the safety of his friends. The choice he had to make was obvious, but that fact made it no easier to accept. He shivered again, but swallowed his fear as her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him sleepily. “Morning,” she stretched her arms high over her head and grinned at him, still basking in the afterglow of their night together. Harry moved in to kiss her, but she lifted a hand and pressed it to his mouth, stopping him short. “Your morning breath would wake the dead, brush your teeth first.”

“Yes ma'am,” he rolled his eyes with a grin, and reluctantly untangled himself from her. He stepped down the hall and into the bathroom, his mouth still twitched into a small, amused smile.

Figuring he may as well do the thing properly, he showered and brushed his teeth, and Ginny took her turn in the loo while he returned to the bedroom to select some clothing for the day. Given that he was still under house arrest, he pulled out a pair of tatty jeans and a light blue T-shirt with a white graphic of a snitch across the front. Despite the chaos of his life, his stomach grumbled loudly in protest to how little he'd eaten the day before, and as a result he headed down to the main level to find Kreacher.

“Good Morning Master Harry!” Kreacher called, snapping his fingers repeatedly as dish after dish of breakfast food appeared on the table. The enormous portions reminded Harry of Hogwarts breakfasts, and he smiled slightly at the memory. “Kreacher has your post, nasty werewolf is scaring away the owls, and they come to Kreacher by the kitchen doors.” Harry swallowed his distaste for Kreacher's epithet as the elf pressed a wad of letters, a thick parcel, and a copy of the Prophet into his hands.

“Um, thanks Kreacher,” the elf bowed low, his nose almost pressing into the floor, then disappeared with a sharp crack.

Ignoring the temptation to check if Remus was still loitering outside, Harry plopped himself down and loaded his plate with sausage, bacon, eggs, and toast while he sifted through the mail.

Most of it was garbage: invitations to various high-society galas and Ministry events that had absolutely nothing to do with him, and requests for donations to a number of non-profit organizations that had cropped up following Voldemort's downfall. Most of these he tossed aside, along with the morning's Prophet. It hadn't taken Rita Skeeter long to sensationalize his disappearance, and the headline HARRY POTTER THROWN TO THE WOLVES was followed by a sickening article that was mostly composed of blatant werewolf prejudice or “interviews” with anti-werewolf individuals. Entirely ignoring the newspaper, he turned to the thick parcel and tore away the brown paper. Inside he found to his surprise a thick folder of paperwork from Auror Caldwell, along with a short, terse letter:

Potter,

I understand that your situation severely limits your ability to come into the office. However, we have been swamped with cases following your unfortunate circumstance, and we need all hands on deck. If you could finish these reports A.S.A.P. and send them back to me by end of day, I'll have the office pay you for the day. If you are interested in doing at-home work until you are able to return to field work, please let me know.

Auror M. Caldwell

Harry felt his stomach twist with guilt, but the promise of work at least gave him a distraction from everything that had been going on. Smiling a little, he set aside the thick file and focused on his breakfast, while outside the dark sky rumbled ominously.

Ginny wandered downstairs fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and hair still a little damp, but dressed in her pyjamas and a dressing gown. Like him, it seemed as though she saw little point in dressing properly when they still couldn't leave the house safely. She held a slightly crushed letter in her left hand, which she put aside while she loaded her plate. Harry cocked a brow at the letter, waiting for her to explain. She stared him down, hesitating for a moment before she finally spoke.

“The Holyhead Harpies want to give me a tryout,” Ginny had clearly tried to go for nonchalant, but her voice quivered with barely controlled excitement. Harry dropped his fork.

“Ginny, that's fantastic!” She smiled weakly, casting a brief glance back to the letter. “When's the tryout?”

“This afternoon. Did Kreacher tell you about the thing with the post?” Both their faces fell a little, as the conversation had inadvertently shifted back to Harry's predicament.

“Yeah, he said they're coming by the kitchen doors or something.” She nodded, and Harry glanced to the letter with a small frown. “Make sure you apparate off the top step, so that...so that you're not seen.” Ginny blinked at him, then understanding flooded her features as her eyes widened.

“You're not seriously suggesting I go to the tryout?”

“Ginny, I can't let you throw away your future over a stupid mistake I made,” another thunderclap sounded overhead, and large raindrops began to dot the windows. “I just hate that I won't be there to cheer you on.”

“I dunno Harry...” she worried the side of her lip and cast a brief glance towards the window. “What if...something happens?” She didn't need to elaborate further, they both knew what something she was referring to.

“Stick close to the group, don't wander off, and don't linger.” Harry tried to mirror her attempt at casual conversation, but he, too, failed miserably. “Ginny, it's the Holyhead Harpies. You can't not go.”

~*~

It took an inordinate amount of pestering, but at last Harry managed to convince Ginny to go to the tryout. By early afternoon, the thunderstorm seemed to have blown itself out, leaving the square a muddy mess, though the sky was still almost black. Ginny stood in the front hall with her broom, dressed in her Quidditch robes and her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, eyeing the front door as though it had teeth.

“Be careful, all right?” She turned back to Harry, and her mouth quirked into an assuring smile at his words. Harry pulled her in for a tight hug, silently praying that he wasn't making a huge mistake by encouraging her to go. Her arms reached up and she squeezed him just as tightly in return.

“You too.” She moved to pull away, but Harry pulled her back for a chaste kiss.

“Oh, and good luck,” she grinned, and Harry reluctantly let her go and watched her slip outside. He had wanted to watch her go, but he decided better of it and listened behind the closed door to the muffled crack of her disapparating.

After Ginny had gone, Harry felt at a loss for what to do with himself. The storm seemed to have rekindled itself following his girlfriend's departure, and the windows rattled in their panes and thunder rolled overhead in a prognostic symphony. Lightning flashed in dangerous forks, and Harry watched as the windows of the muggle houses in the square went black as they lost their electricity.

Most unnervingly, Harry could not help but notice a hunched figure sitting on the kerb, shivering violently under a sodden cloak. Harry felt a multitude of emotions jump through his mind in quick succession: panic, then guilt, and finally sympathy. His first instinct was still to invite Remus in and out of the cold and wet, despite the fact that he knew how stupid it would be to do so. Harry shook his head and forced his gaze away from the window. Knowing what he knew now, lowering his guard where Remus was concerned would be an extremely bad idea.

Harry moved to the second floor in an attempt to resist the temptation to check on Remus periodically, and threw himself onto his bed. He picked up his worn copy of Flying with the Cannons and tried to read, even though he could practically recite the book verbatim. The image of Remus sitting on the kerb, and the fact that it was Harry's stupid impulsiveness that put him there kept crossing his mind. He threw down the book with a huff of frustration, and pressed his hands to his face with a groan.

Remembering vaguely that his supervisor had given him work to do, he trudged back downstairs and ignored the strong temptation to look out the window. Harry grabbed the thick folder and relocated himself to the library with a self inking quill, sat down at one of the tables, and got to work.

The work was as tedious as it had been the last time he'd been in the office, and Harry wondered vaguely how stay-at-home Ministry workers did it. Everything around him was oddly distracting, especially following Kreacher bringing him a towering stack of sandwiches and a bottle of butterbeer an hour into trying to work. His gaze flitted to the towering bookshelves, wondering if maybe, just maybe there was something they may have missed in their search—something Hermione would have found in two seconds flat. Harry shook his head and tried to focus on the case file in front of him.

Thunder continued to rumble above him, but without the benefit of a nearby window, it was difficult to say if the storm was anywhere near passing. By six o'clock, Harry closed the folder with a triumphant smile, pleased that he'd finished just under the wire.

Harry stood, wrapped the file in thin brown paper and cast a water-repelling charm on the lot. He headed to the kitchen where Kreacher was preparing dinner, and called down Strax, who fluttered down and landed lightly on his forearm.

Strax took the parcel from him and flew out into the gale without hesitation while Harry stood by the door to watch him disappear into the gloom. He reluctantly shut and locked the door, then turned away while casting a quick glance to the elf, who hadn't looked up from his task. “Supper will be ready shortly Master Harry, will Mistress Ginny be joining you again?” At the words, Harry felt his gut clench, realizing that perhaps sooner, rather than later, Ginny wouldn't be sharing meals with him at all. Swallowing his misery, he forced a nod.

“Er—yeah. She'll be here.” His voice sounded hoarse in his ears, and Harry quickly slipped out of the kitchen, his panic over the claim returning in full measure. How could he have let this happen? He sat down heavily in one of the overstuffed armchairs near the fire and raked his hands through his hair. A fork of lightning briefly illuminated the dim sitting room. He watched the trees bowing against the wind, the almost black sky, and it felt as though the weather was mirroring his inner turmoil. Harry realized with a wave of relief that the kerb was deserted. The sight of the empty square brought his mind rushing back to thoughts of the claim, and what would soon be expected of him. Harry couldn't fathom accepting Remus—at least, not in the way he had to—but knowing that he had no choice in the matter made it infinitely worse. Harry folded his legs beneath him and watched the storm rage.

Harry was uncertain how much time had passed, with the sky so black it was difficult to tell. Kreacher had rekindled the fire and brought him a cup of tea before bustling back to the kitchen. He was grateful for the elf's presence, fairly certain that had he been left alone he probably would have forgotten to eat in his haze of panic. Even so, he could hear Kreacher muttering darkly under his breath, and Harry assumed that it was much later than he thought. A tendril of worry latched on to the panic, and he hoped that Ginny was okay.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when he heard a strange muffled whump from the front hall. He jumped up and hurried out to see who it was, hoping that it was Ginny. He stopped short however when he heard something of a scuffle from the opposite side of the closed door. “Remus please, let me go!” Ginny's high, panicked voice made his stomach turn over.

“Ginny, I need him, please, don't make me—” Remus's voice was desperate and pleading. Harry felt his stomach lurch when the older man's words were cut off by a high yelp of pain.

“Stop it, you're hurting me!”

“Give me Harry!” The words became more fierce, almost dangerous. The sound of Ginny crying out made Harry feel sick with guilt. The door suddenly crashed open, and Ginny fell backward with Remus on top of her, the pair of them sopping wet. Ginny's broom lay forgotten on the top step, and Remus had Ginny pinned to the ground. A hand was at her throat, while she squirmed and struggled, gasping for breath while her fingers clawed feebly at the offending limb, her eyes wide with fear.

“Remus, don't!” Harry took several rushed steps forward before he could think through what he was doing, and the wild, almost feral eyes of the werewolf found him. Realizing too late what he had done, Harry skidded to a halt and stared at the older man. The look he was being given had turned his fear for Ginny to mind-numbing panic for himself. Time seemed to freeze as Harry and Remus stared at each other, the surprise in both men rendering them into a state of momentary shock. Harry took several hurried steps backward; his sudden movement seemed to break the spell and Remus released Ginny. He rose slowly, and rushed at Harry.

Harry scrambled backward, startled by the intense, near-mad look in the other man's eyes. Before he could go a handful of steps, Remus reached him and drew him in close. Harry yelped in surprise, the older man's damp clothes squishing uncomfortably against his dry ones, and he buried his face in Harry's shoulder, inhaling deeply. Harry felt himself being dragged down to the ground, while Remus whispered, “Harry...mine, mine...” over and over against his skin in a ragged, broken tone of voice. Harry shivered at the sensation of the man's harsh puffs of breath ghosting over his damp skin, but he was afraid to move. What if he did the wrong thing, and he made the whole situation worse? Harry's gaze shifted to Ginny, her wide-eyed fear mirroring his own.

Harry clenched his hands into fists, struggling to control his panicked trembling. Remus clung to him as though his life depended on it, and continued to inhale his scent—at least, that what it seemed like he was doing—while his soft murmurs dissolved into nonsensical, whispered rambling. Harry had absolutely no idea what to do. He stared past the hulking mass of Remus's form clinging to him to Ginny. She seemed frozen in place as well, while she watched the scene before her with wide, frightened eyes. Harry tried experimentally to move, but Remus only held on more tightly, pinning Harry's arms uselessly to his sides while a low, threatening growl escaped him. The lupine vocalization made Harry freeze in place, his breath hitching in fear.

Harry took a slow, trembling breath, and after several minutes of tense silence, he tried speaking. “Remus...” The older man didn't answer, and continued to hold on to Harry, shivering a little. Harry wasn't sure if the reaction was from cold or something else. “Remus,” he tried again, using the most delicate tone of voice he could muster, given his fear, “you can let me go, I—I'm not going anywhere.” Of course, that wasn't entirely true. If he had been certain that Ginny wouldn't be hurt because of it, he would have been tearing cheek away from the man faster than he could blink.

“You're afraid,” it had taken Remus several minutes to respond, and his hold on Harry had eased a little, though nowhere near enough to enable Harry to move.

“I—I am. You're scaring me, Remus,” Harry cursed inwardly at the tremor in his voice. “You attacked my—you attacked Ginny. Why would you do that?” He kept his voice as neutral as he could, though he found it much more difficult than he had expected.

“She smelled of you...” another low, lupine growl escaped him, and Harry tensed. “All of you,” Remus's grip tightened slightly, and Harry gasped a little as his breath was forced from his lungs. Remus seemed to sense his discomfort and relaxed his hold, though barely. Harry had no idea how to respond to his words. The Remus Lupin he had known would never attack someone with so little provocation. It was beyond unsettling, and Harry felt a wave of panic-induced nausea wash over him. It hadn't occurred to Harry that their activities from the previous night would be so obvious to Remus's advanced sense of smell.

“You're mine, Harry,” Remus whispered hoarsely, the tone of voice very close to anger. His hot breath tickled the exposed flesh of Harry's throat and made him shiver. “I need you, I can't let her have you.” Harry didn't know what to do. He felt out of his depth, and the way Remus held onto him was making him extremely uncomfortable, on top of his fear that the werewolf might do something rash in his half-mad state. They needed answers, they needed the only person who might be able to make sense of the whole situation. Over Remus's shoulder, his eyes locked with Ginny's, and he mouthed two words.

Get Hermione
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon