A/N: So I hope you like this chapter! Thanks to FanofBellaandEdward for proof-reading for me! x

Warning: SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER!

~5th January 1890~

It had been a tense few days.

Harry was more than content to spend those days secluded away in his own chambers, staring up at the blackboards to will them to reveal an answer to him. There was only so much he could do on his own. Perhaps he could consult Snape on his return to London next week? The very thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was the only thing he could do to focus his attentions on. Otherwise, he would end up sketching over parchments and scraps of paper just on the off-chance that he was struck by a sudden, amazing thought. They never seemed to materialise.

Heaving a sigh, Harry got up from his armchair and stoked the dying fire in the grate. The cold air that circulated through the manor was enough to make his bones ache. It was almost like it froze the blood in his veins and made him more lethargic in his general behaviour. From the large, four-poster bed, Draco stirred amongst the sheets but didn't wake up. The previous evening the blonde man had knocked at Harry's door, no doubt noting the candlelight that flickered under the door, and hadn't said a word when the younger man had answered the door. He'd simply taken Harry's face in his hands and pressing their mouths together.

It had been strange, almost brand new yet distantly familiar. All Harry could think was that it had been such a long time. He'd been washed away on a tidal wave of passion and the desire to be touched again. They went to bed together, their bodies bathed in the firelight. Harry had started awake before dawn the following morning feeling shocked and frigid. As he moved to light the fires, his muscles were as stiff as stone and his brain was foggy. Crouched on the hearth, the cold stone freezing his toes, Harry struck numerous matches and waited until the tinder caught alight before moving back to the bed.

He didn't sleep though.

Instead he lie on his side, head propped up in his hand as he watched Draco sleep beside him. The blonde man was still classically handsome with his fine-cut cheekbones, silky hair and strong, lean muscles. However, the last two years had added a raw, harder edge to the man -and the evidence was latticed over his back thanks to numerous fights in his lycan form, as well as the needle-marks from numerous experiments and trials. Harry traced the marks on Draco's back, guilt burning deep in his belly at the puckered flesh. He wanted to press his lips to those wounds and suck the rage, poison and guilt out of the older man. It was often a wonder that the blonde was able to walk properly after a full-moon episode; his body was often flooded with drugs and new remedies that the human body simply wasn't conditioned for.
Harry often wondered if he was doing more damage than good.

He tried to reason with himself that it was the lycan-virus within Draco that was helping him survive the toxins pumped into his body every month -however it was of little comfort.

Now, however, with the feeble light poking in through the curtains, Harry was left exhausted as he gazed at the beautiful, broken man sprawled out before him. It was vulnerable moments like this that Harry felt as though he could steal away into the night, extract himself from Draco's life and wish him all the best for his coming days.
'I won't do that,' his conscience snapped distastefully. 'I will not abandon this man when he needs me the most.'

Draco stirred under the sheets.

Harry stilled, his breath freezing in his lungs.

"Harry?" Draco shifted again, turning onto his back so that he could peer up at Harry. His eyelids were barely open, his blonde hair tousled and his lips dehydrated. "Mmm what're you doing awake? It's still dark outside."

Harry bit down on his lip, his mind humming with the thoughts that he couldn't voice out-loud. "I ... Couldn't sleep."

On instinct, Draco reached out to touch the younger man and then froze in mid-air. The bed had never seemed as large as it did in that moment. Swallowing thickly, he fought to keep his eyes open. "Can I ... Will you let me hold you?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't meant to, it was just his body's response to most things Draco asked of him recently. These moments where they held each other, made love, and bore their souls were as rare as a blue moon and there was no telling when the next snatched moment would come about. It terrified Harry to be so vulnerable. He needed control. His romantic feelings for Draco did nothing but fill his head with chaotic nonsense that hampered his thinking towards a cure.

That was his excuse for it at least.

"Harry?"

"Yes," fell from his lips before he could think. "Y-yes I'll let you."

With a sleepy confidence, Draco took hold of Harry's wrist and gently pulled him to lie down on the mattress. Everything dipped under their combined weight as the blankets were shifted over to cover Harry's chilled legs. "Your feet are like ice," Draco murmured against the back of his neck as he enveloped the younger man into his arms.

Harry let it all happen, feeling as though he were a separate entity from the living man in the bed. He tried to regulate his breathing, willing his muscles to relax. He focused on the fine hairs and scars over Draco's arms, the weight of his body pressing against his back, the warm breath on the nape of his neck. He gingerly laced their fingers together, the action almost alien to him now, and let out a long, low sigh.

He could do this.

He could fall asleep.

He repeated that mantra in his head until the sun came up.

~0~

The attic was his laboratory.

It was a strange thought in itself, considering the sheer size of the manor they lived in. According to Draco it was still rather on the small side, however Harry had no frame of reference. The largest building he had been in to date, was St. Bartholomew's hospital in London where he'd studied. There were large beams that lined the ceiling. The atmosphere was generally dank and gloomy, except for the large window on the North and South walls. On a clear night, the moonlight would shine in and illuminate all the instruments and glass bottles that cluttered the shelves.

This was the second most likely place to find Harry.

Remus knocked on the door, startling Harry to whip around to face him. His green eyes were wild and a little sunken from lack of sleep. His hair was its usual mess of black waves but his skin had a sallow look to it. Remus pressed his lips together and slid the door closed behind him. Under the arched window there was the long, marble slab of a table that acted as Harry's gurney. Across the large desk and counters there were jars opened around notebooks that had Harry's untidy, erratic scrawl in them.

"We missed you at dinner last night," Remus stated, linking his hands behind his back and leaning forward on his heels.

Harry looked the man up and down before slowly returning to his glass-paned cabinet of various herbs. The rush of scent was thick and clung to the back of his throat. "I lost track of time," Harry intoned by way of apology.

"Draco was disappointed that you didn't turn up," Remus continued, idly walking around the large machines and desks. "Considering how well you two had been getting along recently, we had rather hoped you'd continue the trajectory."

"Sorry to disappoint," Harry stated, finally turning to face the older man. It always took him by surprise just how much being a lycan had aged Remus. The man was scarcely in his forties and his hair already had bold streaks of grey running through it, his skin was marred with scars and blemishes and he always looked worn, his skin drawn and his eyes red-rimmed from nightmares.

Draco's future.

A tightness clenched in Harry's gut. "I am at the very end of my list of herbs to try," he declared, almost arrogantly. His hands trembled as he leaned forward on the marble slab, his knuckles flashing white. "I feel like I'm missing something, yet I don't know what it is."

"Did you look into the precious metals I told you to try?" Remus asked, his amber eyes skimming over the notebooks on some of the shelves.
Inhuman eyes.

Harry glowered down at the intricate lines of the marble but didn't reply.

"I think you should give it a try," Remus went on as though Harry's silence was a mute agreement. "It couldn't hurt your research, surely?"

"Unlike my godfather or Draco, I don't have the luxury of pissing away silver and gold like it's barley."

"Although if they do prove to be a useful ingredient, then you'd have to admit that you wasted a lot more time than you needed to."

This time Harry shot the man a lethal look.

Remus gave a tight-lipped smile. "Just making an observation, Harry. This is taking it's toll on you, we can all see it."

Harry straightened up and narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles. "I'm aware of the pressure this must be putting on you," he said in a strained voice. "However, I shan't give this a rest until I exhaust my list. As soon as I make some progress on the development of this cure, then and only then will I relax."

Remus let out a soft sigh. "I can only hope you understand exactly what you're doing, Harry," he said in a tired tone. "There will be no other gain from this other than seeing Draco and I live long and better lives as humans."

A lump caught in the brunette's throat. "Isn't that enough of a reward, Remus?"

They stared at one another across the marble slab. There was a chill in the air. Harry was the first to look away. There was always something unholy and distinctly non-human in Remus' amber eyes. "Can we expect you for breakfast?" the older man asked wearily, already knowing that Harry would spend the entirety of the night cooped up in the attic, working until his fingers were clumsy and his brain was frazzled. Yet, no one would be able to persuade him to put some hours aside to sleep.

"I shouldn't say so."

"I'll let the other two know."

Harry didn't reply.

He didn't look up until he heard the door to the staircase close behind the older man. A part of Harry felt immeasurable guilt at being so dismissive of his friends; he knew they only wanted the best for him. That didn't mean he couldn't do everything in his physical power to try and help them, either. 'I can't think on that now,' he chastised himself, shaking his head and forcing renewed energy into his limbs. 'The sooner I start on preparing the next formula, the quicker everything will be when I come back from London.' Casting one last, longing glance at the closed door, Harry cleared his mind as Snape had taught him, and opened his current notebook, his eyes greedily skimming the untidy scrawl for the ingredients he'd need.

~0~

The piano music rose up throughout the chambers, trilling up the staircases and hanging in the air. The cold night air pressed against the window panes, whispering in through the gap in the windows, rustling the damask curtains against the flagstone floor. Seated at the piano a tall, blonde man let his fingers move with the elegant fluidity that only money could buy. The tune was both lively and melancholy -a bittersweet blend that only Draco seemed able to manage these days. Whenever he played it always spiralled into something tough to swallow. His emotions bled through -it had been such a long time since he'd felt genuine happiness. He pressed on the brass pedal automatically, no sheet music on the stand. He was so enraptured by the music he was producing that he barely noticed the pair of eyes watching him from the doorway.

When the piece was finished, Draco let his fingers slip from the keys and into his lap.

Applause made him jolt in his stool.

Sirius smiled in appreciation as he wondered over from the doorway, his cane clicking softly. "I had no idea you were so well-versed in being a pianist."

Draco swallowed and attempted a small smile, "Thank you. Mother insisted a man needed some refined skills about him as well as more masculine ones father enforced."
Sirius came to stand beside the piano, resting his hand on the glossy, well-worn wood. "My own mother used to force me to do such lessons. I never quite took to the piano myself. Violin was a better suit for me, much to her despair."

"I find the violin rather lovely."

"As do I," Sirius let out a weary sigh. "I haven't had much time to play in recent years. Taking care of Remus had become somewhat of a priority."

"Do you ever tire of it?" Draco asked, finding he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. His palms grew clammy in his lap. He sometimes wondered whether Harry would tire too easily and retreat back to London and not return.

"There are days where it is taxing," Sirius admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "However, I feel as though Remus is the one who grows to resent me."

Draco looked up at the curly-haired man in surprise. "Remus could never resent you. It just isn't in his nature. He's too ... forgiving for that."

"One day that forgiveness will wear thin and I have a feeling my time in that regard is running out."

Draco furrowed his brow. He had a very similar feeling in regards to Harry. The man was too dedicated to his quest to find a cure. In his darkest moments, Draco foresaw himself living with this condition for the rest of his life. However, there was also the horrifying knowledge that Harry would push himself to the bring of madness just to try and help Draco and, by extension, Remus. That did not bode well for any of them.

"Do you think Harry will have any success with the remaining ingredients?" Draco asked.

Sirius heaved a sigh, his shoulders sagging deeply. "I wish I could say 'yes'. I truly do. However, I also know he's been working at it for almost two years and has gotten no closer than when we first moved up here."

"He has gotten closer," Draco snapped, his temper flaring.

Sirius frowned.

"He has," he repeated. "Despite what you think, negative results are still results. It simply means that we are getting rid of what does not work and hopefully leaving what does, waiting to be found." He drew in a deep calming breath before shooting Sirius a look. "You should know that. After all, didn't you study in the medical profession with Severus?"

"You're right," Sirius inclined his head. He shifted his weight onto his foot and flexed his shoulders under his brocade jacket. "I'm retiring for the night. You should try and get some sleep too."

Draco nodded his head.

He kept his gaze toward the dying fire in the grate and strained his ears, mentally following Sirius' path throughout the manor's hallways until even his own heightened hearing couldn't aid him any longer. He sighed, his tense muscles unravelling. His eyes ran over the white and black keys, his fingers both itching to run over them but also too tired to even twitch. Maybe he should retire for the night as well? He often wondered how Remus managed to keep going, day after day, whilst Draco was still exhausted almost a week after a full moon? It meant at least two weeks every month, he was afflicted greatly, unable to perform the simplest tasks lest he become aggressive or lethargic just from raising a spoon.

'I think it's time to get some sleep,' his mind stated. That settled it.

Making his way up to his bedchamber, Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. There was a definite chill in the air that coiled his stomach like a snake. A tremor ran down his spine. Every now and then an urge rose through him like a hot bubble, and he had to fight to push it back down. It was as though the wolf inside him wanted to rear its head, to be let out and play. He hadn't ever allowed it, hadn't wanted to deal with the repercussions it could cause.

It was tempting, though.

A narrow, arched window cast sharp pale lines of light cutting through the gloom of the staircase. It caught Draco off-guard, being able to stand under the moonlight and not feel the burning prickle overwhelm and cripple him onto all-fours. That was all it took for the blonde man to tear his way up the rest of the stone steps to his own bedchamber.
Once inside, with the door shut firmly behind him, he scurried over to the large windows and threw the heavy drapes open.

Bright silver-white moonlight poured into the room, bathing the flagstone floor in its milky glow. A cold shiver ran through Draco's veins, tickling at the wolf inside him, but it didn't rear it's head. It was oddly comforting and exciting all at the same time. His skin flushed hot, itching under the fabric.

He quickly tore the clothes from his body.

With each layer that fell to the floor, he felt like he could breathe better. Untying the lacing of his undershirt, he ripped it over his head and stood on the cool floor in all his naked glory. The moonlight caressed him almost as well as any hands ever could. It licked at his ears and smoothed over his thighs. He felt desire burn in his belly. His jaw drooped open in a euphoric silent moan, his eyelids fluttering shut as he stepped further into the light. He must have moaned -it felt too good not to.

His member twitched between his legs.

Letting his hands roam of their own free will, Draco stroked his body wherever he could reach, over and over, relentlessly pleasuring the very skin on his bones until it coaxed orgasmic moans from his mouth. Over and over he touched, clawing his long fingers through his hair, giving gentle tugs and feeling the pleasure ripple and burn in his gut until -

"Ugggnh!"

His body convulsed as he spilled his seed of the floor, almost collapsing down on his window-seat before he caught himself. As the last of his orgasm strummed through him, Draco watched beads of sweat drip off his forehead. His erection softened and drooped back between his legs, a cool breeze rushing over his flustered skin and making him shiver.

When the feeling came back into his muscles, Draco pushed himself upright and padded over to the fire to build it up again. Crouched naked on the hearthrug, watching the tinder catch alight, Draco racked through his brain desperate to find the disgust and frustration that his primitive urges were being taken out of his control as it just had.

He found nothing.

Maybe having a wolf inside him wasn't an entirely terrible ordeal after-all. Maybe he'd have to show Harry just how amazing the moonlight could feel. Perhaps then he would understand the other side of it.

A/N: How did you guys like this chapter?