Warnings: Violence, Bloody Scenes, sort of Pre-Slash (HPDM), Cursing

Chapter 2: From the Brink of Death to Back Again


Judging by the hesitant warmth of the rising sun on his face, it must have been just a couple hours until Draco was startled awake again. There was a buzz inside his head, loud and unrelenting, and Draco frowned, disoriented by the broken sleep. In irritation, he tried batting at the sides of his head, snuggling closer to the pillows of his armchair.

Armchair?

Draco's eyes flew completely open as a scream of pain cut the air and he nearly fell off onto the floor, hastily making his way to his feet.

Potter was twisting madly on the bed, all sweaty and grimacing, violent spasms jerking his legs and arms. His back arched as he let out another hoarse scream, a sound that was full of something raw and choked. Blood was seeping through the carefully placed bandages, and Draco cursed.

"Don't you go bleeding even more onto my sheets, Potter!"

He grabbed Potter's jerking shoulders, trying to get him to stay still for him to perform a diagnosis spell to see what was wrong. Potter's heart was thumping wildly and he was gasping for breath, tears falling from beneath his shut eyelids. "Potter, will you stop that for a moment -"

A third scream, even more anguished and brutal this time, revealed Potter's alarmingly lengthening and sharpening teeth that snapped at the air like wolf's jaws. Draco jerked away as if he had been stung, horrified.

Oh sweet Merlin. His system is so screwed up he's showing the symptoms of lycanthrope even after the full moon.

Even as Draco stared, Potter's nails became elongated, shredding at the stained sheets under him and his mane of a hair grew shaggy, more coarse.

This is not good.

He turned on the spot, dashing out of the room of pained screams and whimpers and growls, and straight up into his laboratory again. He fumbled through the shelves hurriedly, several vials smashing to the floor as he searched – there! Snatching up the vial of experimental Wolfsbane Potion, Draco ran back to the bedroom where Potter was convulsing on the bed, his head tilted so far back it was a wonder his neck hadn't been snapped yet. It was obvious Potter's weakened body was not ready to turn into that of a wolf's and it was struggling against the birth of a new werewolf – a losing battle, Draco was certain of that.

Shooting out spells to strap Potter's flailing limbs down, Draco seized Potter's chin and forced the potion down as quickly as he could, massaging Potter's throat again to help it go down. "Swallow it, you stupid git, swallow it."

Almost immediately, Potter's trashing subdued and he lay there, shivering. His sharp teeth retreated, as did his nails, and he was left looking like the mangled man he had been. Draco let out a shaky breath of relief, curling his trembling hands into fists. "Potter? Can you hear me?"

There was no answer, Potter had fallen unconscious again.

Great.

Rubbing at his eyes with a jaded sigh, Draco set on re-bandaging Potter's wounds. He was satisfied with the way his potion had worked; he had been researching the Wolfsbane just out of curiosity for a few months now, and thought he had managed to better the formula a little. It was supposed to make the transformation even less painful than it was with the common Wolfsbane and the wolf more controllable, but at least with Potter, it had managed to force out the wolf completely.

Probably just because Potter's frail condition, though.

After patching Potter up again, Draco stretched and worked out the knots in his crammed muscles. His feet were aching from the desperate run from last night and his neck was sending jolts of pain every time he moved his head. Sending a disdainful glance at the armchair that was comfy to sit but not sleep on, Draco walked to the window.

Let's see what's the traffic outside.

Sure enough, after a moment of concentrated watching, Draco could make out at least four stealthily moving figures in the bushes. No doubt the others were close by, ready to swarm the house the second they saw their chance.

Draco snorted. I'd like to see them try, those mongrels.

Casting a look at the resident mongrel on his bed, he placed the monitor spell on Potter again and left the room. It was no use to try and sleep again; he might as well start the day already.

As he made himself light breakfast, he was glad he had just restocked his supplies. There would be enough food for two people for a few weeks if they ate sensibly. And Draco seriously wished they would find a solution of some sort to the problem of being surrounded by bloodthirsty werewolves before that. He had no real yearning to spend numerous weeks stuffed inside a small house alone with Potter the werewolf.

The day went by slowly. Draco kept himself busy going through his books in search of spells or anything to help them get rid of the werewolves. Occasionally, he checked Potter's condition and doused him up with various healing potions and salves, and as the clock struck five in the afternoon, he noticed that Potter was finally starting to arouse.

Draco leaned closer, putting away the thick book he had been reading for the past hour. "Potter?"

Potter's eyelids were twitching and his head turned from one side to the another, and back again. He frowned, then grimaced as the burrowing of his forehead must have painfully stretched the slashes across his face.

Draco waited patiently for a moment, then huffed in annoyance and poked at Potter. "Wake up, you great sod. I can't wait to hear you thank me for saving your sorry life."

To Draco's immense pleasure, Potter awoke with a startled gasp, his eyes snapping wide open. He looked disoriented and lost as he blinked rapidly, and his breath came in so fearful pants Draco felt a pang of pity.

"Hey," he said, trying to make his voice soothing and non-threatening. "It's okay, Potter, you're safe. Well, at least for now, but - " Draco promptly shut up as Potter turned to stare at him, his eyes eerily light and bright. He must have a fever. "Are you in pain?"

Potter blinked. "Malfoy?" he bemusedly croaked, straining to get up. Draco quickly put his hand over Potter's chest and gently pressed him back down. Potter flopped on the bed without resistance, his eyes big as he kept on staring Draco.

"Yes, it is I." Draco cast the diagnosis spell, nodding to himself. "I have started the healing process, but I cannot guarantee that -"

"You saved me."

Draco halted, then peered down on Potter. "Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?"

"I – no." Potter appeared honestly confused. "But why? I saw you – before. When I ran into you." He shuddered. "And you walked away then."

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Draco sneered. "A man can change his mind, can he not? Besides, maybe I saved you just because I wanted to have an Order of Merlin, First Class, for saving the Hero's miserable arse."

But to be honest, Draco had no idea why he had decided to save Potter. He could have just stayed in his cottage and let the wolves do what they desired – he had never cared for Potter, the world would have kept on spinning just fine without him in his life. But the look on Potter's face when Draco had pushed him into Greyback's arms, it had felt as if it had shattered something in him.

He had never seen Potter so vulnerable, so unguarded; Draco knew that look would have stayed within him for the rest of his life, haunting him until the day he died, as a memory of the greatest mistake he had made. Draco was a lot of things you couldn't say with a smile on your face, but a heartless monster he was not.

In any case, Potter had testified on his behalf in the Death Eater Trials after the war. He felt as if he had to pay him back some way.

Oh yes. That's a good one. Draco latched on to it immediately.

"Now we're even," he said flippantly. "You helped me in the Trials," he added as Potter looked even more baffled. "And now that I've saved your life, we're even. I owe you nothing from now on."

"Right. Okay." Potter stared at him for a brief moment before struggling to get into a sitting position again. "Well, I think I should be going then -"

"Potter."

"- my friends must be worried to death by now and -"

"Potter."

"- I have to file a report on those werewolves -"

Draco slammed Potter back flat on his back, a snarl on his lips. "Potter!"

Potter blinked at him owlishly, wincing as Draco's hands brushed against his wounds. "What, Malfoy?"

"There's something you should know. Do you remember how I got to you?"

As Potter gave a hesitant shake of his head, Draco sighed and proceeded to give him the tale of the daring rescue and how they were currently under siege. "There is no way of contacting anyone since both Floo and Apparating are out of the question, as is using the owls," he summed up. "And no, we can't fight our way out of here," he snapped as Potter opened his mouth, and Potter's face fell.

"I'm sure I could -"

"No, Potter, you can't. You have no wand, am I correct? Exactly. And you're weak as a kitten at the moment, given your condition."

Potter looked ready to protest, but at Draco's fierce glare, he fell meekly back against the pillows, cringing as he did. Draco frowned and got up. "I'll go get you some Pain Reliever Potion."

When he returned, he found Potter staring down at himself. His fingers ghosted over the bloodied bandages, a blank expression on his face. He momentarily glanced up at Draco as the blonde set down a collection of vials on the bedside table. "I'm a werewolf now, aren't I?" he quietly asked. His voice was just as blank as his face, hollow and empty, tinted with just the hint of sadness. "They bit me during full moon."

Draco said nothing. Really, what could he say? "Oh yes, Potter, you are, indeed, a werewolf. Bound to change into a hairy monster once a month. Oh, and did I mention those nice little cuts you have across your face? Well then, have a jolly rest of your life!"

"How do you feel?" he found himself asking. "You're pretty badly torn there."

Potter ducked his head. "I'm all right." He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you have a... a mirror or something?"

"I don't think you should -"

"Please, Malfoy?"

Draco paused. Well, what the hell. He conjured a small mirror and handed it over to Potter who took it gingerly with his healthier hand. From the corner of his eye, Draco watched as Potter gazed at himself from the mirror, his expression never changing.

"They'll scar, of course, but they won't stay that way, you know," Draco murmured. "And there are glamours and spells to hide them."

"Yeah," Potter said softly, lifting his other hand to touch his face. "I'd like to be alone for a moment, if that's okay."

Draco inclined his head. "Of course. Just take those potions on the table and for Merlin's sake, don't get up."

Potter merely nodded, and Draco retreated from the room, feeling oddly concerned. It came to him that Potter must be hungry, for not having eaten anything for a long time – Draco doubted Greyback had served much food.

He really should eat, or he'll grow even more weaker. I can't keep stuffing him with nutritional potions.

He frowned at himself as he opened the refrigerator door.

I don't care, I just don't want him to die on me before I get that shiny Order of Merlin.

He took his time making some eggs, bacon and toast, placed them onto a tray with a glass of juice and walked back into the bedroom. He didn't bother to knock, it was his bedroom, after all.

Potter was in the same position he had left him, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. The mirror was on the floor, as if Potter had thrown in there. Impassive eyes turned to Draco as he entered, then swivelled back to the ceiling.

"I brought you some food," Draco said and banished the now empty potion vials on the bedside table, setting down the tray of light dinner. "You need to keep your strengths up -"

"I'm not hungry."

Draco gave a frown. "You aren't going to heal -"

"Stop that, Malfoy," Potter said suddenly, his voice hoarse.

Draco blinked. "Stop what?"

Potter looked at him again. "Stop acting like you care." As Draco started to sputter - the nerve! - , Potter sighed wearily. "Look, I'll get out of your hair as soon as possible and then we don't have to see each other again. You can drop the act of playing the concerned Healer, I won't be here for long."

Draco sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, you're going to wobble out and crawl your way through the mass of your werewolf-pals?" Potter winced, but Draco paid no heed. "Like it or not, Potter, you need me. You're not well, not even close, and right now, I'm the only one who can help you. So would you please stop waffling in that pit of self-pity?"

Potter's eyes flashed with something dark. "You don't know anything -"

"Oh boo-hoo, Potter, yes, I don't know how much you're suffering in the inside," Draco snapped, his patience wearing dangerously thin. "But this not the place for brooding. You can mope all you want once we get out, but try to keep yourself together for now. Hell, I risked my own life, my safety, my way of life, to save you and this is how you thank me? Once we're out, I don't think I can even return to this house, my home, ever again." Draco felt his nostrils flare at the thought of losing the cottage. "Well fuck you, Potter. Try to grow up."

Not paying attention to Potter's stunned look, Draco spun around and stalked away, slamming the door shut behind him.

Merlin, he's such a moron. A blasted idiot with mush inside his head.

Still fuming, Draco flopped down on a chair and glared at the closed door.

Ungrateful brat of a child. He gritted his teeth, vividly reminded why, exactly, he had so greatly disliked the git when they were at school. Arrogant sod who doesn't think of anyone else than himself. I ought to throw him out to end both his and my sufferings.

Then, as if the wolves had heard his thoughts, there was a loud rattle against the door. Draco stiffened, his grip of his wand tightening.

"Malfoy!" came a shout from outside, muffled but still clear in Draco's ears.

Greyback.

"Malfoy, we can make a deal."

Draco sneered.

"You give us Potter, and we will leave and never bother you again."

Like I could trust you.

Still... He began to fear himself as Greyback's offer sounded suddenly tempting.

I could do it. I could give them Potter and go back to my life.

Draco's hands clenched into fists.

"Malfoy, did you hear me? It's an easy exchange – Potter for your freedom."

No-one would ever know.

No-one but him.

I would always know, always hate myself.

"This is your last chance, Malfoy! All you have to do is open the door."

"Shut up!" Draco shouted, even though he knew the wards prevented any sounds escaping from inside the cottage. "Just shut up!"

He whirled his wand in furious circles, forming a soundproof bubble around the house, and Greyback's voice droned out. Draco took a deep breath, his head bowed and tried to relax his tensed up muscles.

"Thanks," a quiet voice said all the sudden, and Draco's head snapped up. Potter was standing at the doorway to the bedroom, heavily leaning against the door frames with whitened knuckles and a subdued expression on his gaunt face. "For that. And for... for saving my life. Thank you."

Draco stared at him, unmoving for awhile. Then he cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Potter shrugged, the slight movement nearly causing him to stagger. "Yeah, I guess so. But I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for how I acted and that I really appreciate what you did for me."

"Fine." Draco sighed. He felt suddenly so weary, so tired. "Let's get you back lying down before you keel over."

He helped Potter back to the bed and checked his injuries again. Potter never said a thing when Draco applied a new layer of salve over his wounds, and neither did he. It felt as if something akin to understanding had fallen between them. Draco kind of liked it, somehow. He was too tired to argue constantly – fighting would get them nowhere.

Potter murmured his thanks again when Draco collected his jars and vials away. Draco glanced at him. "You don't have to go on thanking me all the time now, you know."

"Yeah." Potter fidgeted, squirming under the sheets that covered him from the waist down. Draco reminded himself that he should give Potter some better underwear than the conjured pair. "It just felt appropriate."

"Sure." Draco ran a critical eye over Potter's body. Some of the marks were already looking better, but Potter was still a far cry from a healthy person. "I'll get you some Pain Reliever Potion and something to help you sleep for the night."

"Can I – I have to, uh, use the bathroom." Potter seemed abashed. "Like, right now."

Draco pursed his lips. "I hope you'll manage the visit by yourself?"

"Of course!" Potter huffed, already struggling to get up with a fierce grimace on his face. Draco watched him mildly, then sighed and took Potter by the elbow, directing him to the bathroom.

"I'll go get the potions, yell if you need help, all right?"

Potter waved him off impatiently, almost slamming the door close to Draco's face in his haste.

Prick.

Shaking his head, Draco went to collect the needed potions. When he returned, Potter was already sitting back on the bed, gingerly lowering himself into a lying position.

Draco handed him the first potion. All he needed to say was "this is for the pain", and Potter gulped it down with gusto. Draco quirked an eyebrow at Potter's relieved sigh, but didn't comment – if Potter was in pain and too childish to ask for a potion, it wasn't his problem.

"And this will help you sleep," he said, offering Potter the second vial. "It won't knock you out right away like the normal formula, but lets you calm down and fall asleep naturally."

Potter studied the potion with a curious expression. "Did you invent this yourself?"

"It's what I do these days, Potter," Draco drawled. "Potions."

"Right. Of course." Potter drank the potion without hesitation. Oh how easy it would be to poison him. How gullible can one get? "Thanks."

Draco took the empty vials and slipped them into his pocket. "The potion will take effect soon, relaxing you so that you can go to sleep in fifteen minutes or less." He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob. "I'll be in the lab if you need me, just shout out or something."

"Malfoy?"

Draco glanced over his shoulder at Potter's hesitant voice. "Yes?"

"Could you... " Potter grimaced, twisting the blanket in his uninjured hand. "Could you stay? Until I fall asleep."

Draco noticed him sneaking furtive glances towards the window, and he understood. Potter knew the werewolves were still out there, circling the cottage – some of them could be right outside that covered window, trying to peer in. Despite the fact that Draco nor Potter could hear or see them, they knew they were not alone. "All right. I can stay for a bit."

Potter looked a little embarrassed but relieved nevertheless, and he sank further into the pillows. Draco sat down on the armchair, crossing his legs as he picked up the book he had been reading when waiting for Potter to wake up.

It was quiet for a moment, so peaceful that Draco was nearly startled when Potter suddenly broke the silence. "Have you lived here ever since the Trials?" Potter was gazing at him steadfastly. "I mean, I never saw you again after they declared you innocent."

Draco glanced up from his book. "Yes. This cottage is an old refuge house that has been in Malfoy possession for centuries. Due to its humble nature, though, it has been rarely used."

"Why would you want to live here?" Potter frowned. "It's pretty quiet here, isn't it?"

Sighing, Draco put the book down. "That's exactly why I chose to settle down here, Potter. No-one comes here, no-one bothers me."

"Sounds pretty lonely to me," Potter remarked quietly. Draco gave a small sneer.

"I work well alone. Besides, there is none I wish to see and spend time with in the wizarding world, Potter. It's a dead world to me now. This cottage provides me everything I need – protection, solitary, a roof over my head."

Potter raised an eyebrow, even though it seemed to be quite painful. "And companionship?"

"I told you," Draco snapped, "I don't need companionship. Can't you comprehend the meaning of the word solitary? Besides, I don't need to explain myself to you, Potter."

"Okay, fine – sorry I asked."

Potter quietened, his features relaxing as the potion began to work. His breathing became calm and soothing. Draco watched as Potter's eyelids drooped and he finally fell into deep, peaceful slumber that chased away any nightmares he might have.

Took its sweet time.

Draco rose to his feet, the book pressed to his chest, and Potter immediately twitched, as if he had heard Draco's movements through his sleep. Draco frowned, then glanced at the window. He could almost sense the yellow eyes on the other side of the glass, watching, waiting, biding their time.

It was odd. Draco felt that Potter shouldn't be left alone – he felt... protective.

He shook his head, irritated. Must be the fatigue.

With a few flicks of his wand, Draco had transfigured the armchair into a small sofa with plush pillows and a warm woolly blanket.

I'll just rest my eyes for a bit, that's all. Just in case Potter decides to have some complications.

He settled down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa and drew the blanket over himself. It felt good to be lying down, and Draco hummed in satisfaction, snuggling the mountain of pillows.

Just a moment and then I'll leave. Just a … moment.


It had become a habit, apparently, to be woken up by the loud buzz in his ears at the crack of dawn.

A very annoying habit indeed.

Draco stumbled up, mumbling to himself as he staggered to where Potter lay, trashing again. "Potter, wake up, you great sod."

Potter writhed under his touch, clearly in pain, and his heart was beating like mad. And then, just like that, it stopped thumping altogether, and Potter stilled completely.

Draco froze with him. What in the Merlin's name?

Frantically, he began to analyse the contents of the potions Potter had consumed lately – regular Pain Reliever Potions, Sleep Reliever -

Sleep Reliever with Wolfsbane.

Oh sweet Merlin. Draco almost smacked his face with his palm. How could have he been so stupid?

The Sleep Reliever of his own making contained witch hazel and the Wolfsbane moonstone to help gain emotional balance. Both very effective and powerful ingredients, but they reacted badly when combined.

Cursing, Draco whipped out his wand. "Accio Detoxing Potion!"

Normally, he wouldn't use the summoning charm to get his potions since the glass vials were so easy to break, but this was an emergency. Within seconds, the correct potion was in Draco's hands and he hurriedly poured it down Potter's unresisting throat.

"Come on, Potter, come on... "

Draco kept his unblinking gaze on Potter, breathing hard. Had he been to late? Had the two potions mingled in Potter's body for too long? Had -

Potter jolted violently, his body all but falling off the bed, and he drew in a long, rattled breath as his heart began beating again. Draco closed his eyes in relief for a brief moment.

"You have to stop trying to die on me, Potter."

Potter gave a shaky laugh, panting as if he had ran a marathon. "S-sorry. I guess I have a habit of that."

Draco allowed a wry smirk. "Indeed. This is the second morning I've woken up at an ungodly hour to save your arse. Let's not do that tomorrow, yes?"

"I'll try my best," Potter wheezed. "What happened this time?"

"A complication with two potions that should not be mixed." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "My mistake, actually. I used potions I have tweaked myself and forgot some finer points about how moonstone and witch hazed should not be merged."

"Oh." Potter gave a shrug, his eyes fluttering close. "What did you use moonstone for?"

"Wolfsbane."

Potter's eyes snapped open and he stared at Draco for a moment. Then he slowly relaxed again. "Of course. Almost forgot that I'm a werewolf." His lips were pinched in distaste, but his gaze was curious. "Did I... change? The first night I was here?"

"You were trying to, but your body was fighting against it because you were so weak. I made you drank the potion and you stopped before anything drastic could happen."

Potter frowned. "Wolfsbane can do that? Halt the transformation?"

"The common Wolfsbane can't, but apparently, my version can." Draco wanted to open the curtains on the window, he wanted to see the rising sun, but he didn't dare – the forest around the cottage was swarming with hostile werewolves, after all. He didn't want them to get a look inside in any case.

He glanced at Potter, certain that he was about to sputter some nonsense about being a poor guinea big for Draco's potions, but instead, the look on Potter's face was of wonder. "You can do that? Malfoy, why have you been hiding that kind of potion? So many people could benefit from it, you know."

"Yes, well." Draco licked his lips. "Do you think people would take a potion invented by a Malfoy?" He shook his head. "No. Besides, I haven't really tested that potion yet on anybody else than you. For all we know, it only works that one time."

"I wouldn't mind being a guinea pig, you know," Potter said, shrugging.

Draco raised an eyebrow, snorting. "You really trust me that much?"

"No, not really." Potter cocked his head. "But you've already saved my life, what, three times now? I reckon you wouldn't kill me just for the fun of it after all that trouble."

"Don't count on it, Potter," Draco drawled with another quirk of his eyebrow. He swished his wand to clear away the messed up, sweaty sheets and replaced them with a set of new ones. "Are you up for breakfast?"

"Sure." Potter started to sit up, and Draco gave a pained sigh, pushing the stubborn man back down.

"You stay here, Potter. You aren't fit for walking around yet. I don't want you collapsing all over the place and breaking your bones."

Potter scowled in annoyance, looking like a puppy that had been denied a delicious treat, and Draco almost smiled. "Fine," Potter huffed out, then looked down on himself. "Do you think I could have some, uh, clothes?"

Draco smirked. "What, you don't feel comfortable lying half-naked in my bed?"

There was a sound of outrage, then Draco was subjected to a dark glare. "You wish, Malfoy."

Shaking his head, Draco swished his wand and a pair of loose, black sweat trousers appeared on Potter's lower torso. "I wouldn't recommend you to use a shirt yet. The fabric would cause irritation to the injuries you have in your upper body and besides, it's easier to treat them like this. Satisfied?"

Potter studied the trousers, scratching the material. "Very. Thanks. Now, how's that breakfast coming along?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco walked out of the room.

Demanding little prat.

As the bacon was sizzling on the pan, Draco glanced carefully through the kitchen window. He squinted for a few moments, but eventually, he saw a few men hiding in the bushes just as he had expected.

Just bloody brilliant.

He let the curtains fall back down with a grim sigh and went back to preparing the breakfast.

"You want your bacon raw and bloody, Potter?" he called out loudly, moving the pan away.

"Oh bite me, Malfoy!" came the indignant reply from the bedroom.

"I think that honour falls for you, Potter," Draco muttered under his breath, remembering the lengthened canines just before he had made Potter drank the Wolfsbane.

"What?"

"Nothing, Potter," Draco called over his shoulder and moved the crispy toast onto a plate. "Nothing."

Damn that werewolf hearing.

He carried the breakfast-tray into the bedroom and set it down, taking the other plate for himself as he retreated onto the sofa. "Tuck in."

Potter eyed the contest of his plate. "Can we afford to eat this plenty? I mean, we don't know how long we have to stay here – shouldn't we, I don't know, ration the food or something?"

"Just eat, will you, Potter. The food is going to last."

"Fine. Don't blame me, then, when we run out of food."

"You can eat me if that happens."

"Very funny, Malfoy. Very funny."

"Don't blame the witty one, can't really help owning so plenty of nice, clever brains."

Potter snorted into his toast, but Draco chose to ignore it.

"So, Potter. What were you doing in this forest to get you captured? Aren't you supposed to be an Auror or something?"

Draco noticed that Potter stiffened and his hands stilled for a short moment. "Yeah, I am an Auror." Potter pushed his half-full plate away. "We were here to check on a possible case of werewolves."

"We?" Draco questioned, frowning, and Potter shrugged.

"As in my partner and I. He... he got killed, just before Greyback and his pals snatched me."

"Oh," Draco murmured. "I'm sorry."

Potter shrugged again, his gaze morosely averted. "Yeah," he just said. "I managed to transport his body back to the Headquarters, but it was too late for me."

"So people know that something is wrong since your partner showed up dead. Did you tell anyone you were planning to come here?"

"We didn't mention an exact place," Potter confessed, a little guiltily. "We were supposed to do that afterwards."

Oh, Potter. Ever the reckless little Gryffindor.

Draco sighed. "So there's no chance that your fellow Aurors can come looking for us here?"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head, "no, I don't think so."

"I guess we'll have to find another way out then." Draco ran a critical eye over Potter's injuries. "After you're all healed, of course. Are you finished with breakfast?"

After Potter nodded, Draco made his own, emptied plate float back to the kitchen and started to check Potter's wounds again.

"So how am I doing, doc?" Potter spoke up as Draco was finished smeared healing salve over the gashes across Potter's face.

Draco frowned, closing the jar of salve. ""Doc"?"

"Oh, nothing, a Muggle reference." Potter waved his hand with flippancy. "Never mind. But how is the healing process going?"

Draco scrutinized Potter critically from head to toe, lightly touching a bandage now and then with his hand to assess how an injury had healed. "It seems that your werewolf healing system is finally kicking in. The wounds are starting to close up and," Draco leaned closer to Potter to poke at the side of his head, "your concussion is gone." He took hold of Potter's previously broken arm, unwrapping the bandages. He nodded with satisfaction as unmarred, pale flesh came into view. "Your hand looks pretty good, too. Flex those fingers for me, would you."

Potter's fingers twitched, as if they didn't want to move, and Potter scowled, his face darkening.

"Try again," Draco said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest, observing. Potter's lips tightened in concentration and he stared down at his hand, eyes narrowed into slits. After a few tense moments, the fingers finally curled into a fist and relaxed again. Potter broke into a relieved smile, wriggling his fingers.

"Very good," Draco allowed. "You'll have to keep working on that hand to keep it usable, but I'm not sure if it's ever going to be the same again. You may have some troubles holding a fork, for example, or -"

Potter looked up. "Or a wand?"

Draco inclined his head and Potter's shoulders drooped. "Once we get out of here, you can seek professional help and your hand's full motor functionality may return," Draco added mildly to Potter's benefit. He tapped at the hand with his wand. "I have no skills in physiotherapy, I'm afraid."

"That's alright." Potter shrugged, morosely looking at his hand for a moment before tucking it away underneath the blanket. "How about my face?"

"Well." Draco traced the claw marks on Potter's face with his eyes. They had scarred and the swelling had gone down, but they would never vanish – in time, the slashes would probably fade into silvery lines, though. "It looks better compared to the way it looked a couple of days ago."

Potter smiled faintly. "So I guess I won't win that The Most Dashing Auror award this year."

Draco gave a loud snort. Secretly, he was a little impressed at how good Potter was taking the fact that his face was pretty much ruined from now on.

If it were me... Draco shuddered.

"I think you need to rest now," he said, collecting the empty vials of potions away from the table. "I'll go do some research. You know where the bathroom is if you need it."

Potter nodded and Draco left the bedroom, briefly checking his stock of potions before carrying a few hefty books over the kitchen table. He started leafing through the volumes, looking for anything related to protecting oneself against werewolves or attacking them.