Under the Cursed Moon

Being a Lycan had changed Harry and Hermione in more ways than either of them could have imagined. It wasn’t just the physical transformations—though those were striking enough—it was the way the world saw them now.

Harry, who had always been fit and strong, had grown even more muscular and taller. His new form carried a presence that made people pause and take notice. The once-messy-haired boy was now a man who exuded power. His green eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that could make even the bravest wizards look away. He was still Harry, still kind, still the boy who fought for the underdog, but there was something else now—a quiet strength that people couldn't ignore.

Hermione, too, had changed. The transformation had enhanced her already sharp features, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly beauty. She had grown taller, her once slender form now muscular and athletic, but still graceful with a refined hourglass figure. Her face had taken on a glow, her brown eyes warm yet commanding. Everywhere she went, people couldn’t help but stare—both in admiration and intimidation. Her beauty and her status in the Ministry drew more attention than she liked, but there was no escaping it now.

At the Ministry, Hermione’s power and influence were undeniable. She had worked tirelessly to reform policies regarding magical creatures, and her efforts were finally bearing fruit. Yet, with success came attention. Many witches and wizards, especially those of influence, saw Hermione as the perfect partner—not just because of her beauty, but for her intelligence and rising status.

It wasn’t uncommon for men to try and court her, foolishly thinking they could sway her away from Harry. They tried to rekindle old flames, flirted with her during meetings, or sent extravagant gifts to her office. The attention was flattering, perhaps, but mostly infuriating. Hermione only had eyes for Harry, and it annoyed her to no end that people thought otherwise.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day at the Ministry, Hermione sighed as she sat down with Harry in their home.

“They won’t stop, you know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The attention. I thought after everything, they’d realize that I’m not interested, but they’re persistent.”

Harry looked up from the stack of letters he was sorting through, a grin tugging at his lips. “They’ve always underestimated us, haven’t they?”

Hermione crossed her arms, frowning. “I just don’t get it. You’d think after the war, they’d have better things to focus on.”

“Power attracts people. And you’ve got plenty of it now,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair. “They don’t see the real you—they see what they want to see. But they’re wrong.”

“They are,” Hermione agreed, her voice firm. “And if they think for a second they can come between us, they’re delusional.”

On the other hand, Harry’s time spent in the Muggle world had its own complications. Exploring the world outside of wizardry was something he had always wanted to do. After all, he had grown up as a Muggle and had missed out on a lot of experiences while being isolated from both worlds.

He spent his days exploring cities, visiting museums, cafes, parks, and even traveling to different countries. But no matter where he went, he couldn’t escape the attention. His transformation had made him even more striking, and Muggle women often tried to strike up conversations with him. Harry, ever the awkward one in these situations, had no idea how to handle it.

One time, while at a small café in Paris, a woman had approached him with a flirty smile. Harry, caught off guard, simply smiled awkwardly, muttered something polite, and made a quick exit. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention and wasn’t interested in it either. The only person he cared about was Hermione, and he was always careful to let people down gently.

Hermione would often tease him about it, but she knew Harry’s heart belonged only to her. “You’re too nice,” she would say with a smirk. “You could just tell them straight up that you’re not interested.”

“I know, but… it feels wrong to hurt their feelings,” Harry would reply with an embarrassed chuckle.

Despite everything, the best part of Harry’s new life was spending time with his godson, Teddy. The Ministry, citing outdated rules about werewolves, wouldn’t allow Harry to have custody of Teddy. But Hermione, being Teddy’s godmother, had no such restrictions placed on her. She took official custody, but it was Harry who spent the most time with him.

Teddy, being a metamorphmagus, adored Harry. He often mimicked Harry’s appearance, copying his unruly hair, green eyes, and even his casual sense of style. Harry found it both amusing and heartwarming. It was as if Teddy looked up to him as more than just a godfather, but as a role model.

“You know,” Harry said one day as he adjusted the small magic-dampening chain around Teddy’s neck, “you don’t have to look exactly like me.”

“But I want to!” Teddy replied with a grin.

Harry smiled, ruffling Teddy’s hair. “Well, just be careful. The chain will stop your accidental magic, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide who you are.”

Teddy nodded, though he seemed more excited about looking like his godfather than anything else. The chain around his neck kept his metamorph abilities in check, ensuring that he wouldn’t shift unexpectedly or cause any accidental magic. It also helped Harry keep him grounded, allowing them to spend time together without worry.

The two of them spent hours exploring the Muggle world together. Teddy’s curiosity knew no bounds, and Harry loved teaching him about things outside of the magical realm—things like Muggle transportation, technology, and even simple things like playing football in the park. The boy was fascinated by it all.

Though Harry couldn’t officially have custody of Teddy, the bond they shared was undeniable. Andromeda, Teddy’s grandmother, was no longer in any condition to care for him, so Harry took on the role with all his heart. Even though Hermione had the official title of guardian, it was clear that Teddy saw Harry as his father figure.

Life had changed for both Harry and Hermione in ways they never could have predicted. Their transformation into Lycans had given them power, influence, and strength, but it had also brought challenges they hadn’t expected. The wizarding world might have judged Harry harshly, but he had found peace in the Muggle world, exploring it with Teddy by his side.

And Hermione, despite the unwanted attention, was thriving in her role at the Ministry, making real change for magical creatures. Together, they were building a new kind of life—one where they could find happiness and purpose, even in the face of prejudice and misunderstanding.

But beneath the surface, they knew the world wasn’t done testing them yet. There would always be challenges ahead, and they would face them as they always had—together.

When Teddy turned four, life as Harry and Hermione knew it took a sudden and dramatic turn. The night it happened, Harry had been sitting by the fireplace in their cottage, going over some notes for their next trip into the Muggle world. It was an unusually calm evening, the full moon shining brightly outside the window, casting long shadows on the walls. Teddy had been tucked into bed hours ago, and everything seemed normal.

Until the screams shattered the silence.

Harry shot up from his chair, his heart thudding in his chest. The sound was unmistakably Teddy's—a terrified, pain-filled cry. He bolted down the hall, reaching Teddy’s room within seconds. He flung the door open, only to find a sight that froze him in place.

There, in the corner of the room, was not the boy he had just tucked in earlier that night, but a small, trembling werewolf cub. Teddy’s transformation had begun, and Harry could feel the raw fear and pain radiating from the child as his body contorted into the form of a young wolf.

“Teddy!” Harry whispered, though he knew the boy wouldn’t understand him in this state. The little werewolf growled and bared its fangs, eyes filled with fear and rage. Harry knew this wasn’t really Teddy—it was the curse taking hold, turning his godson into a creature of instinct and fury. But it didn’t matter. He had to act fast.

Without hesitation, Harry stepped forward, reaching out to the boy-turned-cub. The moment he made contact, Teddy’s instincts kicked in. He lashed out with his claws, scratching Harry’s arm. The wounds stung, but they healed almost instantly, the transformation Harry himself had undergone protecting him from harm. Teddy snapped his jaws, trying to bite, but Harry held him firm.

“I’ve got you, Teddy. It’s going to be okay,” Harry murmured, though the cub couldn’t understand him through the haze of the transformation. Teddy's claws raked across Harry’s chest, but again, the wounds closed just as fast as they opened.

Realizing that trying to comfort Teddy in his human form wasn’t working, Harry did the only thing he could think of. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the transformation take hold of him. His body elongated, muscles shifting, bones cracking and reforming until he stood on all fours, no longer a man, but a direwolf.

The wolf that Harry had become was much larger than the young cub Teddy had turned into, but in this form, Harry could communicate with him on an instinctual level. Slowly, Harry approached, his massive paws making soft thuds on the floor. Teddy growled, the sound low and scared, but Harry lowered his head, making himself as non-threatening as possible.

He nudged Teddy gently, and for a moment, the cub’s eyes softened. It was as if some part of Teddy recognized him, even through the madness of the transformation. Harry let out a soft, rumbling noise, a wolf’s way of saying, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Teddy’s growling quieted, and his posture relaxed ever so slightly. Harry took that as a good sign. He began to nudge Teddy again, this time playfully, trying to distract the cub from the pain and fear that the transformation brought. It worked. Slowly, tentatively, Teddy started to respond. He pounced at Harry’s paw, trying to play. Harry let out a soft, amused huff and joined in the game, leading the cub around the room in a playful chase.

For hours, Harry stayed with Teddy, helping him through the transformation by keeping him calm and distracted. By the time the sun rose, the transformation had passed, and Teddy was once again a small, exhausted boy curled up in Harry’s arms, still whimpering softly in his sleep.

When Hermione found out what had happened, she was devastated. She had always known there was a possibility that Teddy could inherit his father’s curse, but they had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t. Seeing the small cuts on Harry’s arms—long since healed—had shaken her deeply, but it was the sight of Teddy, pale and trembling in his sleep, that broke her heart.

“We have to do something,” Hermione said firmly as she sat by Teddy’s bedside, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “There has to be a way to make this easier for him.”

Harry nodded. “We will. Whatever it takes.”

Hermione threw herself into research, scouring every book, every ancient text she could get her hands on. The answer came to her after weeks of sleepless nights and endless experiments. The Wolfsbane Potion had long been the only known solution for controlling a werewolf’s mind during the full moon, but it was far from perfect. It was designed for adults, after all, and the pain of the transformation still remained. Children, especially, couldn’t handle its side effects.

So, Hermione did what she did best—she innovated. Using her brilliant mind and unwavering determination, she modified the potion, making it safer for children. Not only that, but she managed to add a pain-relief element to it, something that had never been done before. And, for Teddy’s sake, she made sure it tasted like chocolate.

The first time they gave it to Teddy, Harry had been nervous. What if it didn’t work? What if the transformation was still too painful? But Hermione, ever the optimist when it came to her work, reassured him.

“It’ll work,” she said, pressing the vial into Teddy’s small hands. “I promise.”

Teddy wrinkled his nose at the potion at first, eyeing it suspiciously. But the promise of chocolate was too tempting, and he took a sip. His eyes lit up, and he downed the rest of the potion in one go.

When the full moon came that night, Harry and Hermione waited anxiously. But this time, there were no screams. No uncontrollable rage. Teddy transformed, but he remained calm, his mind still his own. He even shifted back into his human form a few hours later with a sleepy yawn, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“It worked,” Harry whispered in awe, pulling Teddy into his arms.

Hermione smiled, relief washing over her. “I told you.”

But even though the potion worked, it wasn’t enough. Harry knew that staying in England wasn’t an option anymore. The prejudice against werewolves was still rampant, and Harry couldn’t bear the thought of Teddy growing up in a world that would treat him like a monster, just because of something he had no control over.

“We have to leave,” Harry said one night as he and Hermione sat by the fire. “I don’t want Teddy to grow up hiding who he is.”

Hermione looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding. She had always known that Harry wasn’t just talking about Teddy. He was talking about both of them. They were Lycans now, and no matter what they did, there would always be people who saw them as dangerous, as less than human.

“Where will we go?” Hermione asked.

Harry pulled out a list of properties, ancient deeds that had been passed down to him through the House of Black. The Blacks, one of the oldest and wealthiest pure-blood families in the wizarding world, had owned properties all over the world. Some of them had been forgotten for centuries, left to gather dust and fade into history. But now, they offered Harry and Teddy a chance at a new life.

“There are twelve properties in America,” Harry said, laying out a map. “I’ve been looking into them. America’s magical community is different. There’s less prejudice there, especially in the more rural areas. Teddy could grow up without having to hide.”

Hermione studied the map, her brow furrowing in thought. “And the Blacks owned all of these?”

Harry nodded. “Every time a family from the Black line died out, their property was absorbed into the main house. They’ve got estates, cottages, even some land near the coast.”

“We could really do this,” Hermione said, her voice soft with wonder. “We could leave England behind and start over.”

Harry smiled. “We can. And we will.”