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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Now that I've recovered somewhat from my insane Smutmas project, I'm able to post twice a week on this fic :) Starting today, my posting schedule will be shifted (again) to Saturdays and Tuesdays. Here is this week's instalment, I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 9 – Brand New Day

In the late evening, Ron and Hermione were alerted to Remus's presence nearby by a soft creak upon the stairs. It rent the air like a thunderclap in the dead silence, and both of them swivelled their heads owl-like to the front hall.

Remus looked awful, and Ron found himself rather pleased by that fact.

Good, he thought, after all he's put Harry through, he deserves to suffer.

Remus was white as a sheet, his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed to be trembling slightly. As Ron looked on, he didn't have it in him to feel anywhere near sorry for his ex-professor. He had done this to Harry.

“He's sleeping,” Remus said softly, not meeting Ron or Hermione's accusatory gazes as he stepped into the sitting room and fell heavily into one of the available armchairs. He immediately buried his face in his hands, and it was several long minutes before he finally straightened up and began to speak.

“I—” he cut himself off, and rubbed at his jaw with his hand, his eyes taking on a haunted look. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know that this would happen—any of this.”

“That's no excuse,” Ron replied at once, his voice trembling a little in an effort to keep his anger in check. “Remus, he trusted you. How could you do this to him?” He curled his hand into a fist, but Hermione touched Ron's arm lightly, and he did his best to swallow his fury at the older man. It was a shame, really—he would have loved to hit Remus again.

“Before all this,” Hermione said, cutting through the tense atmosphere Ron had created, “Harry was convinced that something like this would happen—that you would leave him.” Remus blanched at her words; Hermione ignored the look he was giving her and continued.

“Remus, Harry has lost so much in his life—his parents, his godfather,—Ginny.” She glared at Remus, but did not give him an opportunity to speak as she quickly pressed on, “he was happy with you Remus, happier than I've ever seen him. He loved you. You must understand how much more traumatic it was for Harry, believing that you would leave, then have it actually happen. He was shattered, beyond shattered.” Hermione's voice broke and Ron reached out to take her hand as a tiny sob escaped her. She squeezed his hand feebly, and she looked back up to Remus with glassy eyes.

“Remus, I know I haven't always been the greatest—er, cheerleader for your and Harry's relationship, especially in those first few months, but what you did to him...how could you?” A tear streaked her cheek as she spoke, and Ron watched for Remus's reaction. His free hand closing into a fist while he watched Remus's blank expression remain unchanged in response to Hermione's words and Ron fought the urge to hit him again. Not that Remus didn't deserve it, but Hermione was upset enough without him making it worse.

Remus was quiet for a long time. He turned from Ron and Hermione gazed at the glowing embers in the fire grate.

“I did not expect this to happen,” Remus said at last, voice barely above a whisper, “I thought that because I could not feel him through the bond any more that that meant that I had somehow managed to break it. I had no idea that I had blocked it.

“You both know, I assume, about Harry's dreams and my wolf's—er, reactions,” Remus continued, and both Ron and Hermione went rather red at that. The older man continued as though he hadn't noticed.

“I did not want this for Harry—I still don't. I do not want him cursed as I am.” Remus raked a hand through his hair, and still did not turn to face the pair. “I fled out of fear to Greyback's pack, and I was accepted there, though I made no mention of what brought me to that decision. I know that Greyback would grasp at any chance to have someone like Harry Potter under his thumb.”

“So all this...it was to save Harry?” Ron sneered a little as he spoke, and ignored Hermione's hiss of warning as Remus finally turned to refocus his gaze on Ron. His eyes were blazing with warning, hurt, and the faintest inkling of shock at Ron's tone. Ron ignored all of this as he pressed on. “Bollocks. You must have known what happens to the human half of these...partnerships when the bond is being blocked by the werewolf. It's a wonder Harry isn't dead already, and you're treating this like you're the one making some sort of noble sacrifice? From where I'm sitting, it looks like fear that if Harry is turned, you're afraid he won't choose you again, when this bond dissolves.”

Remus looked as though he'd been slapped, while Hermione was staring at Ron as though he'd grown a third eye. Slowly, Remus stood as his shock shifted to frustration, and Ron mirrored him, jumping to his feet and he took a few steps forward while he ignored Hermione's soft hiss of, “Ron, don't!”

“I told you,” Remus said evenly, “I had no idea that I was merely blocking the bond, I thought I had managed to break it. If—when Harry wakes, it will be his decision whether he wants me in his life or not, but I will not allow him to be turned if I have the power to stop it.”

“And literally everyone has told you that he's already partially turned,” Ron replied, meeting Remus's eyes with a glare, and Remus let out a low growl. Ron knew enough about werewolves that this was a sign of challenge, and while he didn't know whether he actually stood a chance of beating Remus in a fight or a duel, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. “As far as we know, Harry's turning now is pretty inevitable. What're you gonna do when he becomes like you? Slink away and leave him to deal with it all alone? Hermione and me want to help, but you are the one who will know what he'll be going through and still you're running of like a scared little—”

Ron did not manage to finish his taunt as Remus's control snapped and he lurched forward with a very lupine growl. His hand closed over Ron's throat, and Ron gritted his teeth as he felt his airway momentarily constrict as he was forced back into the nearby wall. The force of the shove would definitely bruise, but he refused to show this man how much his little move had hurt him. Distantly, he heard Hermione let out a little scream, but he kept his eyes fixed on the werewolf—his gaze now filled with anger and hurt.

“I want to help Harry,” Remus said, his tone softer than Ron had expected it to be, though he was reluctant to feel sorry for Remus, given that the werewolf's hand was still at his throat. “I do, really I do. But neither do I want to condemn him.”

Remus squeezed Ron's throat one more time in warning, pushed off of him hard enough that his head knocked back against the stone wall, and he stalked off.

“Some Gryffindor,” Ron muttered, and moved to chase after the cowardly wolf, but Hermione's voice stopped him short.

“Leave him, Ron,” she said, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, “he has enough on his mind without you antagonizing him.”

Ron frowned and walked stiffly over to the sofa where Hermione sat. He pulled her into a tight embrace, which she returned at once, and again he felt another flare of anger on Harry's behalf. He couldn't even imagine putting Hermione through what Remus had done to Harry. Silently, he hoped against hope that they'd find a way to reverse all this so that Harry could go back to having something of a normal life again. At the same time however, he seriously doubted it.

~*~

In the days to come, Remus hardly left Harry's side. Ron and Hermione kept a very close watch on the couple; recent event gave them no reason to trust the werewolf. Hermione used every excuse in the book to check on the pair, as did Ron, and each trip to the master bedroom was met with a low, protective growl from Remus. When he was in Harry's presence, Remus was almost feral, like a wolf in a human body. He would curl around Harry and draw his apparently unconscious, skeletal body close, and would not allow either of them to approach. Ron found it highly unsettling, but if Hermione shared his feelings on the older man's strange behaviour, she didn't show it.

Harry slept so frequently it was almost as though he was back in the same comatose state as before. Remus lay with him, whispering to him and stroking his hair, while Harry clung to him like the older man was some sort of strange, living teddy bear.

At first, the sight of them together like that made Ron more than a little uncomfortable. It had little to do with sexuality or gender, and more to do with the fact that Ron felt as though he was intruding on a very private moment between them. Though he was still of the mind that breaking the bond would be best for both Remus and Harry, he could not help but harbour a spark of hope at the sight of Remus tending to Harry so diligently. Maybe Remus really had learned his lesson, and they'd be able to patch things up—though Ron doubted it.

For the first week, Harry seemed too exhausted to stay awake long enough to eat, and in his waking hours he seemed stressed and confused. He regarded Remus like he was a stranger, but at the same time he held onto him so tightly it was as though he was petrified that Remus might suddenly disappear.

“What's going on?” Ron hissed to Hermione one evening after he had brought up some supper for the pair. He'd returned to the main level and he was sitting on the sofa next to Hermione, who was poring over a thick and dusty tome that she'd dug out of the Black Library. Ron had no idea how she could even read the thing—beyond the fact that it was so old that the pages were practically crumbling under her light touch, it didn't appear to be in any sort of language that he recognized. “I thought when Remus came back Harry would get better, not worse.”

“I don't know,” Hermione replied with a heavy sigh, and raked a hand through her hair as she flicked to the next page. “I think...I mean, I'm not sure, but...I have a feeling that Remus might still be blocking the bond. There's this passage in here about how if the werewolf maintains a block while in the presence of their mate it makes things very confusing for the human...and something about a sense of abandonment, I don't know...this is in some kind of wonky Latin, so I'm not sure of all the details...” she sighed heavily, sat up, and cast a brief glance towards the staircase. Ron took her hand, and Hermione's gaze dropped to their intertwined fingers. She let out a soft sob, and immediately brought her free hand to her mouth.

“I hate this Ron,” she said with a sniffle, “we're supposed to be doing boring life things like picking out colour schemes and hors d'oeuvres for our wedding, not keeping our best friend from dying because his partner is bring an enormous prat.” She untangled her hand from Ron's and wiped her eyes, “I thought after everything with Red Moon things would finally go back to normal. I didn't think this...mess would happen.”

“Let's face it,” Ron said with a weak smile, “our lives defied all things average the moment we became friends with Harry Potter.”

Hermione laughed weakly, and folded herself into Ron's arms as she dissolved into tears. He patted her hair gently and let her cry. Harry had to get better—he just had to.

~*~

Both Ron and Hermione cashed in their saved up holiday time off (which they had been planning on using for their honeymoon) in order to stay at Grimmauld Place and keep an eye on Remus and Harry. In particular, to ensure that Remus didn't take off in the dead of night. Ron wasn't certain that he'd actually take off at this point, but he didn't want to take the chance of Remus bolting again, and as a result, they'd taken up residence in Harry's guest room.

Ron's free time was spent keeping a close eye on Remus, as he considered the man to be something of a flight risk, if his recent behaviour was any indication. Hermione was still reading the old book she'd found, and had spent the last several days wrestling with the archaic text.

Harry's recent behaviour had led both of them to believe that Remus was still blocking the bond. How he was doing it was still something of a mystery to them, so too was how to get him to stop doing it. They had no other explanations for why Harry still seemed incapable of recognizing any of them—even Remus.

“I wish we knew how to knock some sense into his thick skull,” Hermione hissed as she returned from her turn of checking on the couple Saturday evening. She looked how Ron felt—frustrated and miserable all at once. “Can't he see that blocking the bond it hurting Harry, not helping him?” Hermione sat down heavily upon the sofa next to Ron. “He'll will be dead in a fortnight if Remus keeps this up.”

“I can hit him again if you like,” Ron replied, and grinned a little when she swatted his shoulder.

“Not funny, Ronald,” she said, though the corner of her mouth had twitched into the shadow of a smile. “A concussion isn't going to help us. Besides, I think the blocked bond might be getting to Remus too, now.”

“How d'you mean?” Ron asked, sitting up a little straighter at Hermione's words.

“Well, when I went to check on them just now, Remus seemed almost...feral.”

Feral.

Something of the word made something click in his brain. He turned and glanced outside to see the progression of moonrise—the full moon. When he spoke, his voice shook, and he prayed that he was just seeing things, and the moon wasn't as full as it seemed to be.

“H-Hermione...what phase of the moon is it tonight?” When he turned to her, he saw that she had gone very white.

“Oh...Oh, God,” she whispered, horror-struck.

“You...” Ron began, his voice still shaking, “you didn't happen to notice a goblet in Harry's room...one that might've contained a recent dose of wolfsbane potion or something?” he asked weakly, and the answer to his question came to them at once.

Somewhere above them, a garbled, part-human, part-lupine howl rent the air. Hermione's skin had gone beyond white and now seemed rather grey, almost tinged with green. The sound made the hairs on Ron's arms stand up on end, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

“We have to get out of here,” Ron said as he jumped to his feet, but Hermione hadn't moved. She appeared to be frozen in a state of shock. “Now,” he dragged Hermione to her feet, and she let out a whine of protest.

“Oh, but...but...what about Harry?” She asked, though Ron was already rushing her to the front door.

“He'll be fine, hang on...speculari!” Ron flicked his wand and a tiny jet of blue light shot from his wand, up the staircase and around the corner just as the huge, hulking mass of Remus's werewolf form appeared at the top of the stairs. The sight of it was bigger than Ron remembered, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as his fear gave way to blind terror.

“Out, Hermione! Out, out, out, out!” He pushed her forward, and they both made it outside just as the snarling, enraged beast tore down the stairs towards them. They slammed the door, and Hermione let out a squeak of fright as Moony's muzzle caught between the door and its frame, and it took both of them putting their full weight on the door to keep the werewolf from bursting through.

Hermione flicked her wand at Moony's exposed nose, using what Ron guessed was a Stinging Hex, as Moony yelped and pulled back just enough for the pair to slam the door shut. Hermione quickly put a number of locking and protective wards in place, which was lucky as her Stinging Hex stopped Moony for merely a fraction of a second, and the door rattled in its hinges as the werewolf slammed into it. They could hear him growling and snarling, but after a moment he seemed to give up on chasing after them, and the sound of Moony's heavy footfalls faded away.

“Oh Ron that was close,” Hermione breathed, her hand clutching at her heart, “what did you do? That spell...I don't think I've ever heard of it before.”

“That's got to be a first,” Ron said with a small laugh, and she scowled at him. Sensing the oncoming lecture for joking at a time like this, he quickly pressed on. “I learned it from my supervisor. It's sort of a surveillance spell. Watch. Speculari Ostentare!” At the incantation, another jet of electric blue light shot from the end of his wand and hovered in midair for a moment, then expanded into a large circle. He heard Hermione gasp softly, as they suddenly had a perfect view of Harry's bedroom.

“It's like a...a floating television or something,” she whispered, awe-struck. “Why didn't you do this before? Surely it would've been easier than going up to check on them every hour.”

“Technically, it's illegal to perform it in private homes,” Ron explained, panting a little as his heart rate slowly returned to normal, “invasion of privacy and stuff. But this is a special case so I don't think it'll be an issue.”

They sat down on the front steps and watched as the werewolf returned to the bedroom. Ron felt his stomach lurch as the huge form of Moony approached the tiny, unmoving figure on the bed, his ears flattened against his head.

Ron flicked his wand once to add sound to the image, and the moment he did so they heard the werewolf let out a distressed whine. It was such a far cry from the vicious monster it had been not a full minute before that it gave Ron a strange sense of whiplash. He watched as Moony nudged Harry's cheek with his nose, then licked it gently. The sheer power of the creature showed in the small action, as Harry's head lurched upward from the small action, then fell limply against the duvet again. Ron reached out for Hermione and she met him halfway, their hands clutching onto one another as they watched the scene in tense silence.

“It's so weird,” Hermione whispered, unable to take her eyes off of the image of the huge werewolf. It nudged Harry gently a few more times, but he did not respond beyond a soft, almost inaudible moan of pain. Moony carefully climbed onto the bed and curled up around Harry like a furry, protective shield. “Seeing a werewolf being so...gentle, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Ron murmured, “I mean, Harry told us about it, but it's still kind of hard to believe.”

The pair watched in silence as Moony continued to shift and adjust his position around Harry, and was so gentle with him—like he was a precious, fragile artifact. Ron frowned a little, too bad Remus's human half wasn't so good to him—if he was, maybe none of this would have happened, he thought, and a sudden gust of wind tousled their hair and made their robes flutter. Despite the season, it was cold, and Hermione shifted closer to Ron. He immediately shrugged off his outer robe and draped it over her shoulders without a word.

“I'm...” Hermione trailed off, her voice rather croaky as she stood, but continued to watch the image of Harry and Moony with a conflicted look in her eyes.

“Hermione?” Ron prompted when she didn't continue, and she shook her head a little, then turned to smile apologetically at him.

“I'm going to head back to our flat,” she said, though she sounded uncertain as she spoke. “For blankets and food. We should be close by...just in case.”

Ron reached for her hand, and tugged her gently towards him. He cradled her cheek in his hand, and kissed her once.

“I'll keep an eye on them, don't worry, all right?” He said, and tears immediately sprung to her eyes. Hermione threw herself at Ron, and he lurched back a little from the force of the embrace, but before he could ask, she pulled him in for another kiss, and he could feel her tears wet his cheeks.

Without a word she stood and disapparated, and was back in under five minutes. Her arms were leaden with the thick duvet from their bed, a muggle thermos of tea(a miraculous invention that had made his own father sing praises to the ingenuity of muggles for close to a fortnight after), and half a dozen bacon sandwiches each.

With the blanket draped over their shoulders, the couple curled up close together while they passed the thermos back and forth and ate their way through the sandwiches. They alternated between dozing and keeping an eye on the pair, though as it transpired, there was really no need. The werewolf stayed curled around Harry and whined almost continuously, while it seemed as though he was attempting to groom Harry's unkempt hair. Unfortunately, the werewolf saliva did little more than make it stick up more than usual.

As evening passed into night, Ron found that no matter how long he watched Moony with Harry, he could not shake his shock at how gentle the werewolf was with him. A werewolf not on the wolfsbane potion, he kept reminding himself, which added to the distinct strangeness of the scene. A werewolf in its natural state...and Harry was still in one piece.

The thing that surprised Ron the most however, was Harry himself.

It was as though Harry had come back to life. He was squirming on the bed, whining as he attempted to burrow into the thick wolf fur, as though no matter what he did, he couldn't get close enough to Moony to be comfortable. With each movement, Moony would tend to him by nudging him with his muzzle, or lick his cheek, or shift to cover Harry and protect him from any potential threat that might come their way. Ron could see the shine of tear tracks on Harry's cheeks, but this time he knew that they were not tears of anguish, but ones of relief—of joy. Ron couldn't say how exactly he knew, especially when Hermione routinely reminded him that he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but despite that, he just knew.

Ron turned his gaze from the image briefly to look at Hermione, who was dozing with her head on his shoulder. He tightened his hold on her a little, and ghosted a kiss against her temple, lightly enough that it did not rouse her. Relief swelled in him, and he turned back to the image and continued his watch.

“There's one thing I don't understand,” Ron mumbled sleepily as he gently roused Hermione so that he could take his turn sleeping.

“What might that be?” Hermione asked as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Why is Moony unblocking the bond now? I mean, they were apart for more than one full moon, why didn't the wolf part of Remus's brain unblock it then?”

“Not a lot's known about werewolf magic,” Hermione replied while she stifled a yawn. “Maybe Moony needs to be with Harry in order to unblock it or something?”

“Maybe...” Ron trailed off while he studied the pair, and yawned again. “I'm sorry, maybe we can talk about it later.”

“S'okay,” she replied with another yawn of her own, and with his head propped against Hermione'ss, he slowly nodded off.

At roughly half-six the following morning Ron ended the spell. The sun had begun to rise, and he saw Remus convulse as he began to change back. He had no desire to see Remus's full monty, and he quickly flicked his wand to dissolve the image.

“Hermione,” Ron murmured, but she didn't move. She was still fast asleep with her cheek against his shoulder, and he gave her a soft shake. “Hermione, wake up, it's morning.”

“Hmm?” She sat up and blinked her eyes a few times, then stifled a cavernous yawn. “Oh, is it safe to go back in?”

“Yeah, he just changed back. C'mon,” he said as he stood and pulled Hermione up. With their feet dragging, they slipped inside as quietly as they could, shuffled to the sofa, and collapsed onto it in a tangle of exhausted limbs. Both were far too tired to drag themselves up to the second floor.

“Kreacher?” Ron called out groggily, uncertain whether or not the elf would answer him. Thankfully, he wandered into the sitting room and eyed the couple curiously.

“Mister Weasley called?” The elf croaked, his eyes flitting from Ron to Hermione and back again.

“Hermione and I are dead on our feet,” Ron explained as they rearranged themselves into something almost comfortable as he continued to speak to the ancient elf. “D'you think you could bring some food up to Remus and Harry, and keep an eye on them for us? I mean if Harry starts looking...worse, could you wake us up? We just need to sleep for a couple of hours.” Ron's voice was croaky and he longed to just lie down and sleep, but he staved off his exhaustion as best he could while he spoke to the elf. Kreacher bowed low to each of them in turn by way of response, deeply enough that Regulus's locket scraped gently against the stone floor.

“Kreacher will watch,” he replied reassuringly. “Does Mister Weasley and Miss Granger require nightclothes, or perhaps some breakfast before they sleep?” He asked. Hermione was already too exhausted to protest Ron doing anything that might resemble an order to the elf, and had already nodded off against Ron's shoulder. Ron shook his head and smiled weakly while he pulled the duvet more securely over himself and Hermione.

“Just keep Harry safe for us,” he said, and Kreacher bowed deeply. With a sharp crack the elf disappeared, and Ron was asleep before his head hit the cushions.

Above them, tangled in the embrace of his partner, Harry let out a low moan and began to stir.
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Lunaticus Book Two: Moonstruck