A/N: Thanks again to my amazing Beta Shigure-san!
Reviews are love! (:

-xx-XX-xx-

Chapter 2

"Good lord, that's ghastly!"

"Coming from you?" Draco muttered to himself as he straightened his dark red silk tie. Standing in front of the large mirror, Draco felt rather appropriate for his visit to Hogwarts. Of course the red did look a little off against the rest of his matted black suit, but he didn't really care. If it pissed Astoria off as much as he knew it did, then red was perfect.

"You look absolutely dreadful in red Draco. If you'd only let me help you," Astoria disappeared for a moment, and Draco turned to the now empty portrait hanging on the wall. Over time, Draco had regretted letting the portrait of his former lover take its new home in his very own bedroom.

"Try more of this color," Astoria said, draping a long deep purple fabric over her arms.

Draco chuckled. "Absolutely not. Where did you even get that from?"

Astoria's lips pinched together, she seemed to find Draco's taste in clothing lacking. "From your great grandfather, or whoever. The curtains from his portrait, I thought the color would go quite well."

"For a lady perhaps," Draco turned back towards the mirror, turning to the side to admire his new suit. "And I am not a lady."

"Where are you going anyway?" Astoria asked, dropping the curtains as if she'd already forgotten why she had them.

A sigh escaped from Draco. He knew what that question meant, it was always the same coming from her ever since she died. Every time Draco had gone out to make a new purchase on suits, Astoria would jump to the conclusion of…

"Another date? With who this time? That girl from the Leaky Cauldron? Oh what was her name… Jiggles?"

Always the same.

"Jillian," The name rolled off of Draco's tongue harshly, despising that name. Though Jiggles suited the girl as well. "I would hardly find myself on a casual date with such a woman. Practically half of London has shared a bed with her."

"Sounds about your type," Astoria whispered loud enough for Draco to hear.

"Enough out of you or I'll be sending you back to the kitchens to deal with my Mother!" Draco grinned, knowing how much Astoria loathed his mother's portrait. The red tie dropped carelessly to the floor as Astoria's bitter arguments filled the bedroom. The door closed, leaving Draco feeling relieved to be leaving.

-x-

The familiar surroundings of Hogsmeade faded off slowly as the carriage carried down its path towards Hogwarts. The sun was beaming down, yet it hardly helped to warm the nipping cold air that Draco breathed in. Off in the distance, Draco could barely make out the pointed towers covering the predawn light from the sun behind it. It was snowing, but not enough to count as a blizzard. The scene would look beautiful to Draco, if he hadn't despised the unwelcoming school so much.

The gates opened, and a familiar face was there to greet him. He knew it would have been a wise idea to inform the Headmistress of his early arrival, especially considering his current status outside of the Ministry. Yes, in everyone's eyes, he was still a former Death Eater. Even though Harry had done the best that he could to ensure Draco's name was cleared, others still saw him as evil. Draco had tried for months to prove himself innocent, until he realized it was far more easier just to live for himself rather than care about what others thought of him.

Even so, the idea of walking straight into Hogwarts without warning didn't appeal very much to Draco. So McGonagall agreed to have Filch escort him into the grounds. And it wouldn't have been so bad if Filch hadn't complained about the snow the entire time.

Draco breathed in deeply as an unpleasant nervous, tingling feeling danced across his skin. The main entrance doors opened, and for the first time in years, Draco stepped foot inside. The last time he had seen those doors, they had been smashed to pieces along with the rest of the castle. It looked just the same now as it had done before the war, but far more clean and less ancient.

Filch muttered something that Draco couldn't hear when they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to McGonagalls office. The gargoyle moved, and a spiraling staircase appeared. Filch motioned for Draco to go, before he turned away and stalked down the corridor. Draco rolled his eyes, and made his way up.

McGonagall opened the door, as if she had already known he was there. Draco was surprised to see no hint of resentment or fear or any negative emotion in the Headmistress's eyes before taking the offered seat in front of the desk.

"Now Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, sitting down into her own chair. "What can I help you with?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Actually I've come here to find a book."

"A book?"

"Er… yes. A specific book, it was one of the Dark Arts books that were burned after the war."

McGonagall clasped her hands together, making Draco uneasy. The last time they had even made eye-contact was while he had approached Voldemort during the War. Yet here he was, hoping that the old professor would simply forget about his wrongs and do him this favor.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy but we have-"

"Draco," Draco said, hoping it would make this conversation easier. "Please just call me Draco."

McGonagall hesitated a moment before continuing. "Very well, Draco. As I was saying, those books have been destroyed and banished from Hogwarts, and all other schools alike. May I ask the name of this particular book?"

Draco noticed the uncertainty in McGonagall's voice when she asked. He guessed she was aware of his position within the Ministry, and the possibility that he might not be able to divulge any important information about his current task. He had already been given a list of specific topics he would not be able to speak about, and luckily the book was not one of them.

"It's called Lost Curses."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Ah, indeed. That was one of the books. I suppose you have a reason as to why you're in search of it?"

Harry had been another topic he was allowed to discuss, but only about what had already been released to the public. Seeing as how Ron had seen the entire thing first hand, naturally the entire wizarding world knew about it; in full, excruciating detail.

"Actually profes- Headmistress," Draco said questioningly, carrying on after receiving a slight nod of approval by McGonagall. "It has to do with Harry Potter."

"I thought as much," McGonagall admitted, taking in a light sigh before tilting back in her seat. "But there really is nothing more I can help you with, as far as the book goes."

Draco nodded in understanding. "I was hoping I could talk to Madam Pince about it, I thought she might know-"

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Madam Pince retired last year. Hermione Granger has taken up the position for this year."

"Granger?" Draco said in disbelief. Draco rolled his eyes before crossing his arms. There was no way in hell Draco would ever go to her for help. He had enough of the Muggleborn in school, with her prancing around gloating about how smart she was, and shoving her smugness in everyone's faces. How embarrassing and utterly disgraceful that would be for Draco, walking up to her and begging for help.

-x-

"I need your help Granger."

Draco sat in the Hogwarts library at a loss for any other words. Hermione sat directly across from him, eyeing him up with a confused look on her face.

"Help with Harry, right?" She said delicately.

Draco nodded, arching his eyebrows and glancing away. "I suppose Weasley informed you already of what happened?"

Hermione nodded briefly, and Draco got a cold sense that Hermione was nervous. "I have a lot of work to do Malfoy, so please let's just get whatever you came here for done and over with. First class is starting soon."

Draco took notice of a few students peeking in the window, then scattering the moment Draco smirked towards them. A few of them even looked familiar, and Draco guessed they were probably some of the first years that he tormented back then, though now they looked much older and were tormentors themselves.

"Indeed," Draco muttered, turning his focus back to what he come here for in the first place. "I'm looking for a particular book called the Lost Curses, and I was hoping you, or rather Madam Pince the person I believed to be librarian, could help me find it."

"Lost Curses? You think Harry was hit by one of them?"

"No, I know he was. I know which one as well, I just can't seem to remember it exactly. We read about it in seventh year, then again I suppose you wouldn't remember because as far as I know you were off chasing Horcruxes."

"Yes, well be that as it may, that book is practically impossible to find unless you're willing to travel to the other side of the earth," Hermione explained, knowing full well there was no chance of there being a copy in Britain.

Feeling a little disappointed, as if he had somehow expected there to be another way, Draco sighed. "I guessed as much."

"There is… another book that might be useful," Hermione added, biting her lip as she lost herself in her own thoughts.

"Another book? Of ancient, forgotten curses?"

"No- well, sort of," Hermione said, ignoring Draco's sarcastic tone. "But I'd need to know more about the curse to really find one," Hermione met Draco's eyes, and he wondered if she was like McGonagall, aware of his inability to talk about most things. Before he could reply, Hermione answered it herself as if she read his thoughts. "I know you're an Unspeakable. Maybe I could talk to Harry personally about it?"

"I suppose that shouldn't be a problem. He'll be taken to the Ministry in a few days or so, you could speak to him there," Draco said, purposefully avoiding telling her that the man hadn't spoken a word to anyone other than him.

"Taken to the Ministry?" Hermione repeated.

"I've personally asked for the arrangement to be made, for Potter to be held at the Ministry cells, rather than Azkaban."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Draco shuddered. What was it with these people always asking why? "I assumed it would be easier to talk to him there on a regular basis rather than having to travel back and forth. Besides he's not much of a threat anyway. As long as he remains in a holding cell he should be fine." She nodded in understanding.

"That makes sense."

"Indeed."

"Erm, yes."

"Well then," Draco tapped his foot underneath the table. This conversation seemed to be taking an immediate downfall, and Draco did not particularly want to be caught up in awkward conversation with his former muggle-born classmate. Hermione shook her head, the tip of her mouth curving upwards in a questioning smile. Thankfully, she stopped there, not wanting to continue.

The rest of their conversation had gone smoothly, and Draco was about to leave feeling rather reassured. She continued to explain about the other Dark Arts books which were not banned, but close to impossible to find. The tension between them seemed to dissolve, but there were still hints and bitterness in the way she spoke to him. Even so, he was glad to hear it when Hermione had offered to continue the book hunting even further, and promised she'd have more information for him on his next visit. Why she had suspected a next visit in the first place was a complete mystery to Draco, but he figured she could be useful and was even willing to do most of the research.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, catching his arm before he left the library. "If – well if this is some foul joke you're trying to pull on Harry, or if you even think about doing anything funny-"

"Then I give you full permission to hex me into oblivion," Draco replied, smirking. "As much as I want to, and believe me nothing appeals to me more than watching Potter suffer in Azkaban, I can't. Ministry orders."

"I still don't trust you."

Draco winced. He hadn't expected the muggle-born to trust him, but he had hoped she would be the one to see reason and at least realise that Draco was only trying to help. "And I see no reason why you should, given our history."

Hermione dropped her grip. Her lips pursed, and Draco could tell she was quite obviously still not convinced. "I just… It's funny, how it has to be you to find a cure."

"I never said I was looking for a cure," Draco sneered, narrowing his eyes. He'd be damned if anyone expected him to fix Harry. The only thing he was supposed to do was find the man who did it. He just happened to also be interested in the dark curse itself.

"Hang on, I'm confused then. I thought you came looking for the book to help Harry?"

"I am helping him. Not in the way anyone expects, but by finding the man who did it and learning about the curse so someone else can deal with him afterwards,"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco cut her off. "I'm not going to help Potter if that's what you're hoping for. I will do nothing more than what I am assigned to."

"But,"

"I'll be seeing you in a few days to take you to the Ministry to see Potter. By then I should hope you'll have more information on that book you claim to know about."

"But Malfoy-"

"Goodbye Granger!" Draco called, slamming the door behind him. He breathed in, pausing for a moment to collect himself. Is that what everyone thought he was doing? Helping Harry find a cure for his curse?

-x-

The next three days passed uneventfully. Draco had eventually returned from Hogwarts after a few stops along the way, picking up a loaf of his favorite jalapeno focaccia, a jar of chunky peanut butter, and a small tub of cottage cheese. There was no one else on this earth that Draco had met, that had the exact craving of peanut butter on spicy bread with milky cheese. In fact, almost anyone who knew about his secret craving nearly gagged out their insides at the mention of it.

After the three days of satisfying himself with the snacks during breaks in his office, Draco glanced up from his morning coffee and the new issue of The Daily Prophet, when a small note was slipped underneath the door. The note flew up to his desk, and unraveled itself right in face. Draco never liked receiving howlers, he had plenty before during all of his trials after the war. All the talking letters were obnoxious to Draco; even the ones that didn't scream bad news.

"Malfoy," Draco raised his eyebrows, recognizing Ron's very faded voice immediately. "Harry is here. Haven't seen him yet, but I will be up to fetch you so we can go down together. Only because Kingsley says so. See you at two, Ron….. What do you mean that was too quiet? I'm sure he heard me fine…. It's still recording? Blimey, how do I make it stop?... Oh that didn't work. Will he hear what I'm saying now?... No, I tried that. Wait let me… Bloody hell."

Draco snickered. He figured as much that Ron didn't know how to work a howler.

Glancing over at the clock, he read '1:59' right before there was a knock on his door. Draco sighed, grabbing his coat and opening the door to find a red faced Ron panting, as if out of breath.

"Honestly Weasley, what was the point of sending a howler ten seconds before arriving?"

Ron shrugged, stepping aside to let Draco out of his office. "I don't know, why not?"

Draco rolled his eyes, and nodded a brief greeting to Auror Dawlish who was standing next to Ron. He turned around, and set a locking charm on his door before following them down the corridor towards the access lifts.

The ride down to the lower levels was short. Ron and Dawlish had exchanged some brief mentioning of Cornish pixies, and a few times Ron tried to talk about Harry. Draco found this odd considering every time Ron brought it up, Dawlish refused to talk about it and went back on the topic of the devilish creatures.

Not many people knew of the dungeons in the Ministry. There were some wizard groups who had protested against having them, even after others had claimed these groups were 'cults' who simply believed in the dungeons that didn't exist. Some were even brave enough to challenge the Ministry as keeping them secret, suggesting that they held strange alien beings and dark magic devices that were to be used as weapons. Weapons for what, Draco had no idea. The people were as mad as ogres, and that's all Draco thought on the subject.

The dungeons in the Ministry looked more or less very similar to the ones found in Hogwarts. Unlike the ones in story books and fairytales that Draco had read when he was younger, however, these were much finer and pristine in appearance. The walls were high, and most doorways were arched with gargoyles perched on both sides of each one. They all lead to separate areas. They stopped and entered one, after passing about twenty or so doors. They followed a few other corridors, briefly pausing to drop off their wands and any other sharp, pointy or potentially dangerous objects they had in their possession. Draco didn't even bother to comment on the toy broomstick Ron had hidden in his pocket.

A few guards led them down a torch lit hallway, and into a chamber that looked like a stereotypical storybook dungeon. The walls were made of stone, and there was a bed of dirty hay lining the ground. Draco felt revolted just breathing in the cool, metallic like air, let alone stepping on the dirty floors.

Harry was cowering in the corner, huddled up with his knees tight against his chest. He didn't even bother to look up when the three men approached him. Draco winced when he saw the iron chains on his ankles and wrists, and noticed how short they were. They barely gave him any room to move around. The matching iron shackles attached to the walls were hanging loosely, as if Harry had been trying to free himself from them.

"This is a bit drastic, is it not?" Draco muttered to Dawlish as he watched Ron attempt to talk to Harry.

"Better than Azkaban anyway," Dawlish said, crossing his arms. "Though if it were up to me, he would have stayed there to rot."

"Yes, well as it happens, it wasn't up to you. And thank Merlin for that," Draco cast the Auror a cold glance. There was harshness to Dawlish's voice that sent shivers up Draco's spine.

"Harry please," Ron whispered, lightly touching Harry's wrist. Harry finally looked up at the touch, and stared at Ron with some sort of fearful look plastered on his face. "Please talk to me."

Draco glanced behind him at the two guards standing outside the cell door, before turning to Dawlish. "Could I have a moment alone with Potter? I do need to get a start on this case before the grass turns green under the snow."

Ron stood up. "Don't take too long." He muttered before following Dawlish out the door. The two guards closed the gate behind them, ushering the Aurors away.

"Welcome back to the Ministry, Potter," Draco said, standing directly in front of him. "Are you going to speak to me again today?"

Harry raised his eyebrows before letting his legs slide to the floor. Draco took the moment of silence as a hint that Harry wasn't up for talking at the moment. Yet, anyway.

"Alright," Draco sat down by Harry's feet, bringing up one knee to his chest to stay comfortable. He'd have to remember to clean these pants at least five times to get the dirt off once he got home. "Then I'll talk, and you listen."

"I believe you've been hit by what's called a Lost Curse. You didn't have a chance to learn about them, as you weren't there during seventh year when Carrow taught us about them. Anyway, I seem to recall one particular curse that we went over, though I can't exactly remember the name of it, so I've asked your friend Granger for help,"

Draco paused when he noticed Harry's face lighten a bit at the mention of Hermione. "She'll be down for a visit tomorrow, I suppose." Harry nodded slowly, glancing away. Draco cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm going to need you to talk to me Potter, I won't be able to get very far in your case if I don't have anything to work with."

Draco watched in annoyance as Harry brought his knees back up to his torso, burying his face between them and his chest. Gritting his teeth, Draco stood up and kicked lightly at small pile of hay. "What are you hiding Potter?"

Harry looked up, scratching his knee with his thumb. Draco turned to meet Harry's eyes for a split second before his head went back down.

"Oh for goodness sake Potter, stop acting like a child!"

Draco sighed, rubbing his temple like he always did when he got frustrated. The one thing that didn't quite get through Draco's head was why Harry was acting this way. Even back at the ocean side unit before, Harry had acted strangely. This was definitely not the Harry Potter he had grown to know and despise.

"Look," Draco said calmly, taking a deep breath in. "You've got to meet me somewhere in the middle for this. I can't continue to reassure everyone you're not dangerous when all you do is sit on your arse all day, not speaking a word to anyone because you're a selfish, spoiled prat."

After a few moments of tapping his foot impatiently in silence, Draco turned on his heel towards the door, nearly ready to give up. "Bloody Gryffindors."

Draco had just about made it five steps before Harry finally gave in and called out to Draco.

"Wait,"

Draco spun around, and glared at the messy haired boy. "I can't play these games with you Potter. You either talk to me, or forever rot until your death. It's your choice."

"I'll talk, just please don't go."

Draco stared at Harry for a moment before taking his seat in front of Harry. "I'm not going anywhere until I get information."

Harry sighed, lifting himself up against the wall to sit cross legged. "Okay."

"So why do you only talk to me anyway?" Draco asked, his curiosity overcoming him. He noticed Harry's panicked look, and quickly guessed that Harry wasn't aware that Ron had mentioned Harry's abnormal silence. "Everyone keeps telling me that you've continued to torture them with silence. There must be a logical reason as to why you only speak to me?"

"Well, for one, you're the only one who hasn't called me a monster, or been too terrified out of their mind to even be near me." Harry's voice was raspy when he talked.

"You're the only one calling yourself that."

"You tried to convince me that I wasn't."

"That's because you're not. You're just cursed, and there's always a way to counter a curse." Draco said, not aware of the way that Harry kept looking at anything other than him.

"The killing curse doesn't."

Draco chuckled. "That's because that kills. This one doesn't."

"Still feels like it could."

"So, what else does the curse feel like?" Draco asked, avoiding the reassuring conversation they seemed to be having. "And don't bother lying to me this time."

Harry glanced up at him, seeming confused. "I didn't lie to you last time, if that's what you're implying."

"Potter, you of all people should know how much knowledge I have on dark magic. Have you forgotten so easily? Last time you said you were aware of your murderous actions prior to telling me you didn't recall anything between being attacked to waking up in Azkaban. How is that even possible?"

Harry averted his eyes, searching for something to say. He pushed back slightly against the wall, looking up to the ceiling. As he was deep in thought, Draco took a moment to trace the outline of Harry's battered, wounded face, taking advantage of the way the light illuminated it. Looking through the dirt and wounds clinging to his skin, Draco couldn't help but admire how strangely attractive the golden boy was now, even with all the fresh scars and black and white prison uniform.

When the man bit his lower lip in frustration, Draco grinned. "It's not possible. You lied to me, and I don't appreciate being lied to, especially when I'm trying to help."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "But I didn't lie about how the episodes happened. They happen when I sleep. Not every night, mind you, but some. So far it's about every three or four nights, I'll be having a nightmare, and suddenly I find myself watching my own body change and do horrible things…"

"When you started to have a fit when we were there last, Kingsley said you were having an episode."

Harry shook his head. "That happens, but I'm completely aware of what's happening then. I'm awake, I just… I feel it coming, but at least when I'm awake I have a chance to fight it off and stop it from happening."

"You talk about it as if it's a demon or something," Draco said.

"Or something," Harry muttered, yawning before continuing. "I'm not sure. Whatever 'it' is, it's taking control over me."

"So what else can you tell me about the nightmare episodes?"

Harry shuffled his feet nervously against the stone floor. "I watch myself turn. My eyes go black, I even… I even grow sharper teeth. That's all that changes really, but I watch myself attack nothing, scream and try and rip myself apart if there is nothing else around to attack. It's like I'm a werewolf or something-"

"That's it!" Draco shouted, leaping to his feet. "Merlin why didn't I think of that before!"

"Think of what before?" Harry asked, eyes wide with shock.

"The werewolf curse," Draco said, pacing back and forth. "We read about it, I remember now. I knew it seemed familiar."

"Hang on, I'm not a werewolf. This doesn't happen on the full moon-"

Draco scoffed as if insulted. "Of course not. It was nicknamed the werewolf curse for having similar effects. The curse will only happen when the moon is out, but only at certain points and times of the moon cycle. It's complicated, but I think I have a good lead now."

Harry blinked with uncertainty towards Draco. "I still don't understand."

"Don't worry about it, I'll have to let Granger know about this. I'll be back tomorrow, alright? I think we've covered enough for the day."

"Hold on, wait!"

Draco was no longer listening. He knew the curse seemed familiar. Carrow had done an entire lesson dedicated to that particular curse. Every few days when the moon shifted it's cycle, the curse acted upon the being, taking their nightmares to an entirely different level. At least now Draco had something to work with, and he was sure that he could better find the book on the curse now that he had the nickname for it.

He sent Ron inside after he left the cell, ignoring Harry's plea for him to explain more. The chamber went silent the second Ron stumbled in, and Draco took a chance to wait for any other sounds from Harry afterwards. To his relief, the uncanny silence from Harry took over once again, leaving Ron to fend for himself in attempting any sort of conversation. There wouldn't be any, as Harry only spoke to Draco. Which was perfectly acceptable in Draco's mind.