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

Warning: SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER!

~26th January 1890~

Harry sat on the examining table in Snape's office. The hospital still reeked of disinfectant and brought harrowing memories of that hellish night that almost saw the end of Draco's life. It made his skin crawl being in his undergarments. The room was frigid, his bones were stiff and aching. Snape was busy writing down some notes but had yet to say a word to him. The wound on Harry's shoulder prickled. It had been healing fairly well with Severus' medicated salve, however that didn't mean it made Harry feel any better about the circumstances of how the wound came to be.

Had he somehow inflicted the wound on himself whilst in the throes of his nightmare?

He wasn't sure how the mark came to be, all he did know what that it itched and irritated something dreadful and it was painful whenever he wanted to sleep.

Snape continued to scratch away at his notes.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He needed answers and he needed them now. The clarity that answers could give him, would calm his mind and let him focus on his work. The sooner he could get back to simplifying various ways to create this new recipe, the sooner he could get back to Scotland and hopefully have a ray of hope for Draco and Remus.

"Stop day-dreaming," Severus snapped. Harry jolted back to the moment, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell that clung to the room. "From what I can conclude, the wound was self-inflicted."

Harry frowned as he reached behind himself and started to drag his shirt up his arms. "I ... I don't understand, how is that even possible?" he asked. "It doesn't make any sense. No human could practically have caused those marks on my shoulder. Least of all, myself."

"From what I'm able to tell, you may have dug into your arm rather savagely with your own nails," Severus stated, pointing to a raw patch of skin on Harry's collarbone. "There are some faint half-crescents reminiscent of fingernail marks."

This explanation did nothing to absolve Harry's fears. He'd examined himself in the broad daylight of his room earlier that morning. It was true some of the smaller marks looked similar to fingernail gauges, however so did small teeth. He had been alone, he'd known that. The dream had felt -so real. He could still feel the sensation of the grizzly, matted fur through his fingers. A shiver ran through him.

"What can I do to stop this from happening again?" he asked in a low, hollow voice as he slowly laced his cravat again.

It took a moment before Snape's low voice washed over him. "I'm not sure that I can, Harry," he said slowly. "You just need to make sure to tell me the instance this happens again and we can evaluate what leads up to this point that a wound becomes apparent."

"That's all you can do?"

A pause. "All I'm prepared to do, yes."

"Why?"

"Despite what may have been done in the past, Harry, I'd never hurt you. Otherwise I'd have Draco come all the way back down here, consequences be damned."

Harry couldn't even force a smile. He took his time dressing in silence whilst Severus retreated to the low, creaking seat behind his desk and sat down. Once dressed, Harry draped his overcoat over his forearm. "Am I free to leave?"

"As you wish," Snape waved him off.

Harry bowed his head and then made his way to the door.

Walking out of the hospital into the frigid air was almost crippling. The pain from his wounded shoulder shot through him. His mouth ran dry, desperate for the sweetness of morphine. He forced himself to push one foot in front of the other across the pavements. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could take his dosage for the pain. Severus insisted that he needed only a small trickle of the drug per day. However, Harry knew where he kept a little extra, just in case he needed any erratic side-effects.

The streets were pale with the promise of a frosty fog that hovered low over the houses. It caused an ache in his bone and made them creak as he hurried on through the streets, head bowed, to get back to the town-house as soon as possible. Once there, he tossed his coat and hat on the hat-stand beside the door and hurried up the stairs towards Snape's office on the second floor. He didn't hear Anderson anywhere else in the house as he shut the door in its frame and crossed the room to the large, mahogany desk that stood proudly beside the latticed windows.

It's in the top drawer.

Rounding the desk, Harry felt around the drawers and found nothing until he encountered the long, narrow one in the centre of the desk. It was locked. He frowned and tapped the top of the desk in thought. It wouldn't be too hard to pick the lock. However, Severus was the sort of man who would keep a detailed log of how much morphine he had in stock. Grinding his teeth together, he kicked at the end of the desk and grimaced as pain shot up his leg. He began to pace, raking his quaking hands through his hair. What to do? What to do?

A creak came from outside.

Harry froze. "Anderson?" he called cautiously. "Is that you?"

The door clicked open and Anderson poked his head into the room. He had a sheepish look on his face as he clasped a letter to his chest. "Sorry to intrude on you, sir," he said. "There was a letter for you. It looked personal. I thought you might like to read it."

Harry could feel sweat on his brow. His gaze dropped down to the letter in Anderson's hands. It was made of thick cream parchment and the reddish brown ink was elaborate and spoke of a beautiful hand. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. He knew who it was from. He took the letter and ripped the pristine envelope open. The letter was written in the same hand ... Draco's hand.

'My dearest Harry,

I hope the London life is treating you well, and I can only assume it has been since I have not heard from you. Life up here is very droll and I'm afraid I have nothing to report, though I simply needed to write to you. I had wished to write sooner, naturally, however there has been some tension between Remus and Sirius and I did not wish to leave either of them alone, lest the swords came out.

I have been filling my time with reading your old journals and notes on this 'cure' you are trying to find. In my experience, our greatest weakness can also be our greatest asset. Use the moon as your tool, Harry. You may find that very specified ingredients need to be cured by the light of the moon, thus they can purge the wolf completely out of the system if only temporarily. At this point in time, you may not cure the disease, but you may dampen it's effects on the human body.

However, none of these will be achievable in any way unless you take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself, Harry, and listen to any advice that Severus gives you. I know his humour is that of an old boot, but he means well.

Eagerly awaiting your return,

Draco.'

His breath caught in his throat. His compulsion for morphine made his body flush with shame and the foul taste crept up the back of his throat. Despite the waver in his hand, he folded the letter and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. "Thank you, Anderson," he bowed his head. "I shall retire to my own office. Let Severus know where I am should he wish to find me upon his return."

"As you wish, Mister Potter."

The letter crinkled in his breast pocket as he marched along the hallway to his own office. The long windows looked down upon the courtyard out back. He missed the open moorland he had such easy access to back up at Scotland. Despite the miserable weather and how bitter everything became in any month that wasn't July, Harry had grown excited by the prospect of spending half his time up in the quiet, crisp tranquillity. It did help to calm his mind despite what anyone else thought.

Above the windows, a small worn leather pouch hung tucked away behind the curtains. Just looking at it, he could smell the bittersweet scent of aconite flowers drift on the still air.

It reminded him of Draco.

The ache in his chest grew to a crippling degree. He needed to sit down to stop his head from swimming. 'I need to work,' he thought through the fog in his head. 'I need to focus on my work.'

~0~

Severus returned home at midnight.

Anderson greeted him as usual, despite Severus having to keep reminding the man that he was allowed to go to sleep after a certain hour. There were times he hadn't returned from the hospital until the early hours of the morning. Anderson had been there to greet him, his face grey with fatigue. That had been the start of a very strained conversation. On this night, however, Anderson had written a small note and left it on his desk, informing him that his dinner was waiting in the pantry should he feel hungry.

'So he can learn,' Severus mused, crumpling the note into a ball and tossing it into the low fire. He stacked his journals from the day on his desk. Leaving the room he strode along the hallway and was about to descend the stairs when a sliver of light coming from Harry's office caught his eye. Pursing his lips, Severus crossed the moonlit walkway and pushed the door open.

The room beyond was ablaze with candlelight. They dotted every available, non-flammable surface. Severus had to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the onslaught of brightness. Papers were scattered over the chairs and small tables -discarded there perhaps? -however the mess grew denser as Severus looked over toward the large desk. Amid the chaos, Harry stood hunched over a small pewter cauldron, stirring a mixture near the window. The curtains were drawn back, exposing the boy and the potion to the glare of the quarter-moon hanging in the sky.

"Harry."

The boy jumped, nearly tipping the bubbling contents over the floor.

"Careful boy!"

Harry quickly righted himself, balancing the cauldron properly and hooking the ladle on the rim. He raked his hair out of his eyes and straightened a little, the tension immediately ebbing into his posture. "I didn't hear you come in," he stated, his arm protecting sliding in front of his current experiment.

Severus quirked a black eyebrow but didn't comment on the boy's stance. Walking into the room, he idly glimpsed over the notes, drinking in as much of the untidy scrawl as possible. He frowned; the writing was rather erratic to the point of incoherence. "Harry, did you do all this today?"

"In the last two hours or so," he answered dismissively. "I think I found something that should work, of course I'll need to brew it in the light of the full-moon for it to be effective."

"So why are you brewing it tonight?"

"To make sure there's no corrosive elements in this recipe."

Severus stared at him in disbelief.

"I just want to make sure that I don't poison anyone," he added in a harried after-thought.

Severus suppressed a sigh and the urge to roll his eyes. He had two options here; he could either go back to his own bedchamber and get some proper sleep himself or -or he could sacrifice one last night of sleep and offer some assistance. "Now, which one of these recipe's hasn't been produced yet and I'll make a start on it," Severus stated, tapping his index finger on one of the splayed journals.

Harry stared up at the man for a moment before pressing his lips into a grateful grimace. "The red leather one," he finally said. "Those two haven't been made yet."

Severus inclined his head and set to work.

~0~

~ 30th January 1890 ~

~0~

The sky darkened beyond the glass and Harry tried not to sigh as he readjusted his position in the train coach as they pulled out of Yorkshire station. He'd taken a small detour to see his parents and was grateful that everything seemed to be well with them, although they hadn't received the letter he'd sent them from London. They were pleased to see him however, and he was glad for some home-cooked food, tea and his mother's soft voice. However, it also meant he had delayed his journey back home by an extra seven hours. He'd already spent one night moving out of London in a cramped position, and now he was suffering through another.

The wood was stiff and cold against his aching muscles. His head was spinning a little as the train creaked and chugged alone the tracks, squeaking every so often as they eased through a bend. Digging his fingers into his waistcoat he pried his pocket-watch out and glanced at the shimmering face. He'd be arriving in Scotland within the next three hours. He'd needed to pay for another trunk to be loaded and handled carefully. It was filled with the formulas he and Snape had prepared. His stomach twisted.

So much was hanging on these last few recipes that it made his skin prickle.

'Don't think on it,' his mind pleaded as he forced his aching eyes closed. The train rocked, jostling his head against the chilled glass. 'Try and relax a little and don't think on the implications.'

It was hard to follow his advice.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Harry let himself tumble into a fretful sleep.

Starting awake, Harry frowned as his thoughts caught up with him. The train car was dark, empty and flowed with an icy air that even his thicket coat was unable to shield him from. He had even dragged a blanket out of one of his trunks and wrapped it tightly around his lower body as he huddled into a dark corner of his car. Very few people wanted to journey this far North, least of all in the middle of winter. Harry, for his part, hadn't wanted to delay returning to Scotland any longer than possible. There was to be another full-moon within a matter of days and the thought alone made his blood run cold.

The thought of Draco growing irate in that manor without any company was -harrowing.

Then again, there was always the possibility that Sirius allowed the blonde man to go about town and do as he pleased. There was only so much control one man could have over one werewolf let alone two. Thank God that Harry was to return to their manor soon. He was almost excitable for the next full-moon as long as it meant narrowing down which of the potions would work. He had no idea what results he expected, only that something must be a marked improvement from the carnivorous monster that was unleashed each month.

He checked his watch again.

One hour to go.

By the time the train pulled into Perth station, it was past one in the morning and every part of Harry's body felt stiff, scratchy and irritable. The window pane had almost become opaque as the thick tendrils of frost had crept over the glass and turned it a milky white. If Harry squinted behind his glasses, he could almost distinguish a pale layer of snow dusting the tops of the buildings and chilling the streets. It made his shoes slip as he gathered his luggage from the baggage-car and staggered towards the ticket inspector and got let through to the outside of the station. He was too tired to feel surprised when he saw the familiar top hat of his godfather waiting just outside the station gates. A plume of cigarette smoke drifted into the air overheard, giving a sharp stink of tobacco adding to the unpleasantness.

"Sirius?" Harry called out hoarsely.

The older man turned and smiled, his moustache twitching up at the corners as his eyes landed on his godson. "I was thinking you were going to be delayed yet again," he remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

"As you can see, I didn't want to cause any more unnecessary delays."

"I see you've also brought half of London back with you," Sirius mused, reaching for Harry's trunks. "What on earth have you been doing down there these last two weeks?"

Harry was too tense with the cold to glare up at his godfather's jovial attitude. He just needed to feel his blood rushing around again. Then, perhaps, he could feel more human. Together, they strapped the trunks to the roof of the carriage awaiting them, before climbing up inside.

"Severus and I were able to create two new formulas. We need to see which one has a better effect, which will determine the recipe itself, and then brewing a new batch at the light of a full-moon should provide some positive results."

Sirius frowned as the carriage jolted forward, the horse-hooves clacking on the crisp cobblestones. "Have you considered that there may not be any improvements to work from?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry bit out tightly. "However, let us cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?"

Sirius frowned down at his godson. "We're worried about you Harry," he finally allowed the words to hang in the frigid air between them. "Remus is helping Draco come to terms with what has happened to him. We want this to be a success of course we do. I shall fund every penny of my inheritance to see to that end, if that's what it takes. However," he paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. "You need to come to terms with it too. Some things just cannot be cured. At least, not yet."

"I want to give them hope."

Sirius reached out clasped the younger man's arm. "Harry, every time you help them recover from a full-moon episode -you give them hope."

"It's not enough."

"I know," Sirius sighed, the weight of his words taking Harry by surprise. All too suddenly, his godfather's profile looked aged in the pale light filtering in through the drawn curtains as they manoeuvred beyond the outskirts of town and towards their manor. "However, sometimes we must make our peace and accept certain limitations before we destroy ourselves hunting for something that does not wish to be found."

Harry turned to look out of the window, his chest feeling heavy.

The moorlands are stark black, faintly touched by the silvery light from above, just enough to distinguish the night sky from the hard, frost-covered ground below. There were only a handful of twinkling lights indicating a small cottage or hut in the far distance, but the main townsfolk had been left behind some miles ago. The carriage creaked along over the uneven road, making their bones rattle. It was only when the road started to level-out that Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

They were nearly home.

Unloading the luggage from the top of the carriage, Harry and Sirius tipped the driver handsomely -the only way to have ensured his help for such a long distance in the bitter weather -and hauled the trunks carefully up the stone steps and set them down inside the front door. Closing the large oak doors to the shrieking winds, Harry's body violently shivered as the sudden heat washed over him. He made short work of taking off his outer layers, including his over-coat and tailored coat. Sirius did the same thing, his cheeks flushing bright red as he tugged the cravat from his throat and drew in deep, calming breaths.

"Are you hungry?" Sirius asked.

Harry, panting, could barely nod.

Sirius piled Harry's belongings in a small alcove off to the side of the entrance hall and beckoned for his godson to follow him down to the kitchens. They made their way down the spiral stone staircase in silence, the only sound coming from their footsteps as they descended. The cavernous kitchen was illuminated by a fire in the large fireplace, and the lanterns flickering from the ceiling. They were the only ones in there. Harry frowned.

"Where's Draco?" he asked.

Sirius crossed the kitchen and started reheating something that had been sitting on the stove. No doubt Remus had cooked something prior to his arrival. "Remus is no doubt pacing his bedchamber and Draco is probably reading despite claiming he was going to bed early."

Harry decided not to comment on that. Due to his sporadic napping on the train journey, time had escaped him. It was just gone two in the morning; it was no wonder the others were mentally retiring for the night, even if their physical bodies refused to. He couldn't help but wonder if he would see Draco before dawn broke. Maybe ...

"When is the next full moon then?" Sirius asked, breaking the silence.

Harry frowned down as a bowl of dumpling broth was placed before him. The hot scent of wet meat turned his stomach, but he was ever so hungry. The wine helped. "The end of next week," Harry stated as he took another gulp of wine.

"So should I assume that you'll be up in the attic and conducting these new experiments in order to complete them under the first full moon?"

"Yes," Harry hedged.

"Would you like help?"

Harry looked up sharply, his eyes widening. "Are you -sure, Sirius? I know how much you distaste these methods."

Sirius gave a tight smile, the lines around his eyes deepening for a moment. "The more help you have, the less of the guilt will be solely upon you, should things go wrong."

"That's hardly comforting, Sirius."

"It wasn't meant to be, Harry."

~0~

The cold, dark moorland echoed with the calls of various wild animals that roamed the tall grasses. Harry was used to these noises, yet it was still so quiet compared to the oppressive air of London. He had very little time to appreciate it though, as he holed himself away in the attic. Sirius would come in for hours at a time and read through Harry's journals to make sure that they made sense, making small notes here and there which Harry was grateful for. He needed an outside opinion to present any issues to him so that he could correct them. Sirius also made himself useful by preparing the ingredients and offering Harry an extra, physical pair of hands to aid in the brewing.

Outside of the preparations, Harry didn't see much of Remus. Sirius insisted that it was because the man struggled with the few days before a full moon, having mood-swings that could make him rather aggressive -something that Harry still struggled to envision despite having lived with everyone part-time for the better part of a year and a half. He kept himself to himself in one of the bedchambers the furthest away from the attic space Harry used.

Draco on the other hand, made an appearance the very next evening.

Harry was just measuring some ingredients over an open flame, dark safety goggles snapped on over his head, when the door opened, making him jump and nearly sending a flurry of moonseeds into the fire. "Jesus! Could you knock first?!" he snarled, straightened up and lowering the gas-fire. It took him a few moments to gather himself together and realise it was Draco who had interrupted him this time. "Oh ... I'm sorry -I didn't know it was you."

"Clearly," the blonde remarked.

Harry ducked his head, feeling uncomfortably warm.

"So, what are you working on this time?"

Harry frowned up at the blonde as though he'd grown a second head. "Are we really that starved for conversation?"

"I'm the one trying to start one, so you tell me."

They stared at each other over the large, beaten desk. Harry was the first to look away. He couldn't help it. There was a metallic gleam to Draco's eyes now that unnerved him. "I -I'm working on the last to recipes I have to try. With any luck one of them will be more effective than the other."

"Will that help you narrow down the proper method to create the cure?" the blonde asked.

"I hope so, yes."

"How many of these are you brewing?" Draco asked, only just noticing the five standing cauldrons on the window sill, their tops covered with a flat, steel lid. Every now and then a soft wisp of silvery smoke puffed from under the lid.

"I'm hoping to manage at least eight," Harry admitted, raking his tangled hair out of his eyes.

"Full moon's don't tend to last that long."

Harry averted his gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from the tall blonde man before him. "You and Remus would have to try a different one each."

The silence hung between them like a heavy curtain.

"I don't understand."

"Well from what we were able to establish is that you and Remus are in two completely different stages of life, mentally and physically. However, we have managed to establish that the potions effect you both in the exact same way." He paused to catch his breath, hunching his shoulders up and bracing himself against a sharp wind that whistled through the attic. "That means that we'd be able to test a few more trial-potions before settling on one. Then I can focus on perfecting the brewing."

He turned to see the blonde's reaction -and found himself being pushed back against his storage cabinet, a hot, wet set of teeth grazing down his neck. The nightmarish memory of bloody jaws and the harrowing arousal he'd felt when rutting against matted fur surged through him and made him tense and shy away from Draco's mouth.

Draco stopped.

He could feel Harry's tension underneath him and recoiled. He leaned down so that his mouth barely grazed the brunette's ear, "Do you want me to go?"

Harry wanted to say 'no' but suddenly his head was nodding up and down.

"I see."

Those were the last words he heard Draco utter before the blonde turned and stalked from the room. It was only when the door slammed shut, did Harry feel like he could breathe -not that it quelled the disappointment and upset that rang through him. 'Focus!' his brain snapped. 'You can deal with Draco later. You're so close to finalising these few trial potions. Get it all ready, otherwise you'll panic when the full moon comes.'

Feeling determined if not energised, Harry turned back to the large table where his latest experiment was simmering over the fire. His muscles were tense and sore with knots the size of his fist, but there was nothing to be done about that. He needed to focus. He could only hope that some sleep after the full moon would ease his body into relaxing a little. As the potion simmered, bubbled and popped in the cauldron, Harry hunched over his journals, marking off parts of the procedure that he'd already completed.

Every now and then his mind would shift to query what Draco was doing right now, whether or not he was still angry at him and how he was going to make things more amicable between them. He wished he had the heart to speak with Remus and try to understand how he had managed to cope for so long with his own erratic mood-swings. He also wished Sirius could relate to him how he dealt with Remus so close to a full-moon, however whenever he had tried the older man had gotten distracted.

Within forty-eight hours, specifically counted as needed to be done, Harry had all eight cauldrons positioned on the large desk he and Sirius had pushed towards the large windows. As the moon grew fatter in the sky, he would uncover each cauldron and let it simmer in the moonlight. He only had another day before the full moon.

His stomach squirmed whenever he thought about it.

He needed this to work.

He only hoped God would forgive him for any unforeseen circumstances that may befall them. He touched at the bullet on the chain around his neck and let out a quaking breath. "God, please, keep them safe," he pleaded into the darkness as his eyelids finally grew heavy. "Please, please keep them safe."

A/N: What do we think? x