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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Special thanks to my braintwin KuriQuinn for helping me fix some of the plot points in this one. If you're into T-rated Naruto het, def check her out. Also apologies in advance for any grammatical errors, in between Festivus and New Year's my brain is jello. I'm recovering from FOUR effing family parties and didn't have as much time as usual to edit. Anyway, please enjoy, and I'll see you all next week :) Happy New Year!
Chapter 8 – Hermione's Tale

Remus froze. It was as though Ron had told him to walk barefoot across hot coals.

Or silver medallions, in this case, Ron thought, his eyes still narrowed with fury. He hated that Remus was the only thing that could help Harry—because as far as he was concerned Remus did not deserve Harry, and because he really, really, really wanted to hit him again.

“Didn't you hear me?” Ron snapped, drawing the older man's attention back to him. “Help. Him. Harry is not four feet from you, he's dying, and without you, he will die. Are you just going to just stand there all day?”

“Remus?”

The weak, reedy voice was so soft that Ron almost didn't catch it. It pulled at his heart and made him feel sick to his stomach, and once more he was filled with fury. Remus had done this to Harry, he thought, and his hands clenched into fists. Ron grit his teeth as he struggled to resist the urge to take another swing at the older man.

The soft voice seemed to act as some sort of catalyst, jump-starting Remus's protective instincts for his mate, and was at Harry's side in an instant.

“I'm here, Harry,” Remus said softly as he reached for Harry, and Harry let out a soft cry of recognition as Remus gathered the much smaller form into his arms. Ron snorted derisively to Remus's words, and Hermione elbowed him sharply in the side to shut him up—hard enough that he winced a little.

“Come on,” she said softly, “let's leave them to it.”

Ron cast one last look into the master bedroom. The small figure on the bed folded into the arms of the larger form of Remus Lupin, the low thrum of one deep voice and one weaker, whispery tone reaching his ears, though he couldn't make out the words. Hermione tugged him again, and he went with her reluctantly. He really did not like the idea of leaving Remus alone with Harry—not after what he'd done. Between Remus's focus on Harry and Hermione's insistence that they leave them be Ron saw no alternative however, and followed his fiancée's lead with a frown.

They headed back downstairs; Ron took his turn to lead and steered Hermione to the sofa, then forced her to sit down.

At once, a platter with tea and scones appeared on the table in front of them, and Hermione let out a small, nervous laugh. Ron looked at her, this time really looked, and he was shocked at what he saw.

Dark circles ringed her eyes, and he skin was almost unnaturally pale, as though he hadn't slept in a while. Her hair was tangled and greasy, and there was a long, thin scratch running horizontally across her cheek. Time seemed to freeze, and Ron reached up to brush his thumb across the scabbed line. The touch seemed to make her snap, and with a small sob she threw herself into his arms.

Hermione cried for a long time. Ron had no idea what to make of the strong response the light touch had caused, and he just rubbed her back awkwardly as she wept into his shoulder, while she held onto him so tightly that it was almost painful.

It took a little time, but ever so slowly, Hermione came back to herself.

Hiccoughing weakly, her face streaked with tears, Hermione pulled back and Ron let her go while she extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. Without a word, Ron pressed a cup of tea into her hands, and she responded with a choked sob of thanks, and took a fortifying sip.

“Oh Ron, I'm s-sorry,” she said tearfully, and put down the cup, her hands trembling too badly to hold it properly. “It's been a long few days a-and I was so s-scared we wouldn't make it back in time a-and—” her stuttered, tearful explanations were cut off as Ron drew her into another tight embrace.

“It's okay Hermione,” he murmured against her hair while she clung to him again, just as tightly as before, and another anguished sob escaped her. “You made it back, and Harry's gonna be okay,” Ron paused, but continued to stroke her hair while she seemed to be caught between complete exhaustion and anguish. “You wanna talk about what happened?” he asked, “I was really worried, you were gone a long time.”

Hermione pulled back from him, with another tearful gasp as she tried to compose herself. She mopped her eyes with the handkerchief she still held she nodded a little. She took several slow breaths before she finally began to speak.

“It was...” Hermione broke off again and stared into the fire grate. “I don't know, Ron, I know a lot about werewolves, and I've read about them and we of course know Remus but...I guess I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was.”

“You don't mean—they didn't hurt you did they?” Ron felt panic swell in his chest, his eyes roving over her, looking for marks. He saw nothing—save the scratch. She just looked exhausted.

“Nothing life threatening,” she replied with a wave of her hand, but the way her voice caught told Ron that she was likely more shaken by whatever had happened than she was letting on. He'd had enough of waiting and wondering, and grabbed her hands in his. She paused and turned to look at him while he squeezed her hands gently.

“Okay Hermione,” Ron prompted, “start from the beginning. What happened?”

Silence fell between them. Hermione looked away from Ron and into the fire, her eyes were still red and puffy from crying, but Ron recognized the pensive, thoughtful look in her gaze all too well. After a long stretch of quiet, she began to speak.

“Well I left here and went straight for the Black Forest,” she began, her voice soft and shaky. “At first I thought I'd gotten it wrong, because I wound up on the outskirts of some little village.”

“Hermione Granger getting a spell wrong...so miracles do happen,” Ron joked, and Hermione cracked a faint smile.

“Shut up,” she said without any venom, “anyway, I got my bearings and found that I was in the right area, but I figured that some sort of ward was keeping me out, so I got some provisions from the town and started hiking.”

Hermione reached for the cup of tea she'd abandoned, and took a small sip as she pressed on. “I hiked for three days, and I was debating going back...I had been using a variation of the Four Point Spell to try and find the pack—the same one I taught Harry, but I couldn't find anything and then...” Hermione broke off with a shiver. The fingers around her teacup tensed, and she stared wide-eyed into the fire.

“Hermione?” Ron asked tentatively, but for a long moment she didn't say anything, and the haunted look that appeared in her eyes made him feel sick to his stomach.

“The werewolf guards for their territory...sentries...I don't know how, but they found me.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, and she seemed to lose the nerve to speak for a long moment before she resumed the telling of her story, though her voice continued to tremble.

“They were rough with me, nothing life-threatening,” she added to the horrified look in Ron's eyes, “I think they just wanted to scare me. They made all sorts of-of crude remarks and...” her voice died in her throat again, and she looked down at the teacup in her hands. Ron felt as though he'd swallowed a block of ice as he stared at her. He reached out, fingers brushing her shoulder gently, and her gaze snapped up.

“Hermione...they didn't...I mean, they didn't...hurt you, did they?” The word rape died on his tongue, but Ron simply couldn't say it. Much to his relief, Hermione smiled minutely and shook her head.

“No. They threatened me with it, and a few of them tried but...They said that they needed to take me to their Alpha first.”

“Greyback,” Ron said at once, and she nodded to his guess.

“They weren't exactly gentle, and they half-dragged me into their territory,” Hermione said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, as though she was discussing nothing more thrilling than the weather, though her eyes told the truth of her current mental state. She paused to sip her tea, and the haunted look that Ron saw in her gaze made him wonder if that was all those brutes had done. He did not get a chance to ask her however as she pressed on with her story.

“One of them went off to get Greyback,” she said, clearing her throat in an effort to maintain her calm tone, though it did little to help. “The others dragged me into this hut—I think it was Greyback's, because it was the biggest one there, but I don't know.

“Greyback got there in about thirty seconds,” Hermione continued, “and I explained what was happening to Harry and our guesses that Remus was blocking the bond. He didn't believe me at first—I almost think part of him didn't want to believe it for some reason. It took a little convincing before he'd believe that I wasn't a...Ministry grunt, as he put it, even with Harry's ring. I know he could probably sense or smell or something that it was Harry's, but he still didn't trust me, and it took some time for him to even begin to believe that I was genuinely there on Harry's behalf.”

“What did you do?” Ron was surprised at how soft his voice sounded, enraptured by Hermione's telling. “To convince Greyback, I mean.”

“It wasn't what you'd call fun,” Hermione said as she eased back into the sofa's cushions with a soft sigh. “He questioned me on all sorts of things...like details about Remus that only people close to him would know, everything from his birthday to the nature of his bond with Harry...everything. I lost my patience with him a lot, because I was just so scared of running out of time and coming back to find Harry dead, and he and I sniped at each other like a pair of cats. I think his werewolves were as scared of me as they were of him by the end of it all.” Hermione paused, a faint smile of amusement gracing her features, and Ron chuckled softly. He knew how vehement Hermione could get, and he did not doubt her claim for a second. “Once he'd accepted that I wasn't just a Ministry official I told him what was happening with Harry and...” She trailed off again, and Ron was shocked by the expression he saw on her face. She was actually smiling.

“And...?” Ron prompted, torn between wanting to know what had happened, and really not wanting to know. What could have happened right in the middle of such a tense scene that would prompt Hermione to smile so happily?

“Greyback almost ripped Remus limb from limb on Harry's behalf. He was livid.”

“And that's good?” Ron asked as he stared, utterly lost on why Hermione looked so pleased about that.

“Well he didn't literally rip off the bits that stick out Ronald,” she said while she rolled her eyes, and Ron laughed a little. “But after I explained what was happening he got really, really angry and took off, and even with the door shut I could hear him practically roaring Remus's name.” She shivered a little at the memory, and took another sip of her tea, which seemed to steady her nerves as she continued.

“I heard them arguing—screaming bloody murder at each other by the sound of it, then something happened—I don't know what, but I heard all this wolfish snarling, and Greyback came in with Remus, and Greyback still looked really angry, but Remus...beyond just looking beat up, he looked miserable.”

“He sort of had it coming, after what he put Harry through...but Fenrir mustn't've hit him very hard...there was hardly a scratch on him,” Ron grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Werewolf, remember, Ron? Accelerated healing powers. Believe me, what Greyback did to him...It probably would have taken one of us a few weeks in hospital to recover from...that,” Hermione said, and she shivered a little at the memory.

“All right then,” he replied, though he wasn't sure he believed her, for the moment he wasn't keen to argue about it, “what happened next?”

“Well, Remus wasn't exactly happy to see me. Even after the tussle he had with Greyback...” Hermione trailed off for a moment, her thoughtful expression making Ron wonder if she was remembering something else that had happened while she was there, but she shook her head and continued, “anyway, Greyback brought Remus into his hut so he and I could talk, but he refused to leave us alone, I suppose after what Remus had done to Harry while he was in the pack's territory he didn't really trust Remus anymore. Anyway, I told Remus what was happening to Harry, but he really didn't want to believe me when I said that he was as far gone as we all said that he was.”

“Why is he being so pigheaded about it?” Ron asked with frustration. It made absolutely no sense to him—literally everyone had told the man that what he was doing was hurting Harry. “He's not stupid, and it's not like we'd lie about something like this. He should have known that doing something like that would hurt Harry, wouldn't he?”

“Because...well, you know how Remus is about his Lycanthropy,” Hermione said, “he's never been able to accept himself, I mean...not completely.”

“What does Remus's self-esteem issues have to do with Harry?” Ron asked, and Hermione gave him a significant look, but he blinked, no idea what she was getting at.

“Well, the way Remus explained it, and Greyback confirmed it for me...Harry's been partially turned.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, like a physical weight had descended upon the pair of them. Ron turned a little, his eyes falling on the staircase. He looked up, and couldn't figure out what he was feeling. His first instinct was still anger—at Remus. It was just another way that the older man had utterly fucked up his best friend's life. What had Harry done to deserve all this misery? It just wasn't fair.

“I don't think it was completely Remus's fault,” Hermione said quietly, and Ron whipped around to face her again.

“How is it not his fault? Obviously Moony must've bitten him or scratched—”

“—He didn't though,” she interrupted, “Remus swore that he'd never forgotten to take the wolfsbane potion around Harry. Werewolf magic is really complex and so it's a little difficult to explain...” Hermione trailed off, frowning as she thought. “Remus said that because of their personalities or something, the magic in their bond sort of forced Harry to partially turn...before all this started, Harry had told me about these dreams he's been having...” Hermione cut herself off again, and reached for a biscuit on the platter that Kreacher had sent them. She fiddled with the Jammie Dodger that she'd grabbed, but she didn't eat it.

“Dreams?” Ron asked, and felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. Memories of the snake attack on his father in his fifth year flooded into his mind, and he suddenly felt rather sick. Apparently sensing his distress, one of Hermione's hands shot out and grabbed tightly onto his.

“No, nothing like his visions of Voldemort,” she said hastily, and Ron refocused his attention on her. She was smiling weakly, and though he could see the flicker of fear in her eyes, he was reassured by her words. “Basically, it was his subconscious trying to tell him to want to be turned, or something. But Remus is terrified of doing it to Harry, you know how he is about all his werewolf stuff.” Ron nodded; he knew. Hermione often told him about how unobservant he was, but he wasn't blind. It had always been pretty clear how much Remus hated the werewolf part of himself.

“Did Harry tell you anything about this, Ron?” Hermione asked, and Ron shook his head mutely. She sighed heavily, apparently unsurprised.

“It had been going on for quite a while before Remus left,” she began, “dreams, and er...” Hermione paused and went very pink, “Remus has been um, marking him when they...” Ron felt his ears go as red as Hermione's cheeks, and they both looked away from one another. He didn't care who Harry was with, he really didn't—but he really didn't need that visual of Harry in his head.

“It just translates to Harry's subconscious reacting to the partial turning, and Remus's subconscious answering it by wanting to fully turn him when he's ready,” Hermione explained, peeling apart the biscuit in her hands as she began to slowly eat it. Ron wasn't certain he completely understood this partial turning thing—Hermione was acting so matter-of-fact about everything, it was almost unnerving.

“But what if he doesn't want to be turned?” Ron asked, “I mean, that's a pretty big...thing.” He frowned as he looked away from Hermione and to the glowing embers of the dying fire. It didn't matter to Ron if Harry was a human, or a werewolf, or a bloody garden gnome; he'd still be his friend, no matter what, but he seriously doubted that the rest of the world would be as accepting. A lot of people were still highly suspicious of werewolves after their part in the war.

“At the end of the day, I'm not so sure he'll have much of a choice,” Hermione said, her tone dropping from the neutral one she'd adopted to anguished as she spoke, “no matter how much Remus wants him to make the decision for himself, Greyback seemed pretty adamant about having Harry turned whether he likes it or not.”

“And what's Greyback's interest in Harry?” Ron asked hesitantly, uncertain whether or not he really wanted to know the answer.

“The way Remus explained it to me was Harry would be a very strong wolf, but...he'd be a submissive one. From what I gathered, turning him would dissolve their current bond, and he'd be sort of at the mercy of any werewolf that would want to claim him.” Hermione stared into the fire, her gaze troubled. Ron's insides twisted uncomfortably at her words. Claim? Hadn't they seen how that played out already?

“That doesn't sound good,” Ron muttered at last, trying to keep his tone as neutral as Hermione's was, but failed rather miserably. “So...like an Omega thing?”

“No, nothing like that,” Hermione said. Her tone of voice had bordered on the exasperated tone she had often adopted when she had parroted facts from Hogwarts, A History to them at school, but her anxiety over everything that was happening had muted it somewhat. “Alpha, Beta, Omega...those are ranks. The werewolves earn those titles based on strength in the pack and stuff. Submissive or Dominant is sort of an inherited trait, and doesn't have much to do with it. Dominants are the protectors, the source of strength to their mates and the pack, Submissives are the caregivers—”

“—caregivers?!” Ron sputtered, cutting off Hermione in a moment of panic, “you mean like having babies?” At this, Hermione snorted.

“Harry's still a man, Ronald. He hasn't got a womb. Where's the fœtus going to gestate, is he going to keep it in a box?” Hermione snapped, and Ron felt a flush creep up his neck and to his ears. Before he could interject, she pressed on. “Not necessarily have babies, though female Submissives often do, but they are considered the ones expected to care for the children and things...Like a Nanny, I think. Mating bonds with werewolves are different from actual wolves, it's not just based on breeding. It can be a power-claim thing, it can be based on mutual attraction like a normal marriage, lots of reasons. It seems like Greyback wants him turned to 'help' him, but I have a hard time believing that...He wasn't exactly clear on how being turned would help Harry.” Hermione pressed her thumb and forefinger to either side of her chin as she thought, and Ron turned back to her story, deciding to leave the Pack Dynamics discussion for later—it seemed like that would take longer to work out.

“So how did you eventually talk Remus into coming back? And how did Greyback have no idea what Remus had done?” Ron asked, and his two questions were met with a soft frown from Hermione.

“I...I don't know. I mean, I don't know all of it,” Hermione said while she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, “from what I heard when Greyback was beating him up, Remus had fed him some cock-and-bull story about Harry being called off by the Auror Office to chase down some imaginary Dark Wizard. Apparently Remus claimed he was having trouble catching up with Harry, when in actual fact—”

“—he was doing nothing at all, save practically killing him,” Ron finished, and Hermione nodded a little.

“Our guesses were more or less correct,” Hermione continued after a moment of silence, “Remus didn't think he'd blocked the bond, he though he'd managed to break it, since he couldn't feel his connection to Harry at all anymore. He didn't want to believe that he'd made things worse, when he was just trying to make things better.”

“And he couldn't let Harry decide for himself what was best for him?” Ron muttered angrily, and Hermione frowned, mirroring his disapproval.

“It must be a Dominant werewolf thing,” Hermione said, her tone softened slightly, “like he figures that he knows better than Harry or something.”

“Sounds like how muggle women are treated by the men, if your stories are anything to go by...” Ron muttered darkly, and Hermione did not try to defend Remus—what was there to say, really? Remus had utterly destroyed everything that Harry was. Would his best friend even be the same after this was all over?

“Hermione...” Ron began, something suddenly occurring to him, and she looked over to him, concern in her eyes at his tone. “When all this is...done...Harry will be a werewolf, won't he?”

Hermione did not look at him, but cradled her teacup in her hands and stared into the crackling flames. Her expression that had been so haunted, so terrified by what she had seen since arriving back at Grimmauld Place deepened, and there was a terror there now that Ron felt as acutely as Hermione did, if her expression was anything to go by. She did not speak for a long time, and when she did at last, her words were not unexpected, but still the last ones Ron wanted to hear.
“Unless we can figure out a way to reverse this partial turning thing, yes, he will be.”
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck