Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of the Harry Potter characters. Find someone else to sue.
(A/N): Welcome back, to those of you who are returning readers. If you haven't, you might want to check out the first chapter again, the computer ate a good portion of it when I tried to load it, and, of course, I didn't notice it. Typical, and I apologize for that. For those of you who are new, I hope you enjoyed the first, I want to know why you haven't reviewed, and I hope you like this next chapter I've got for you all. I'm sorry its took so long to get out, my editor is packing up for college, and we have some disagreements about chapter length and the time it should take- but, truthfully, I'm just giving her a hard time. Don't worry, I took safety precautions- the guns and knives have been removed from the vicinity. Except for the one Lupa used to stab the editor's teddy bear… Oops, was I supposed to say that? -wince- As it is, this is unedited, and I apologize for that, Rin will be coming through shortly (-meaningful look- shortly, I say) with the revision of this chapter, so if you find spelling errors and grammatical screw-ups offensive, I recommend you give my editor three weeks. That's too long, but given the circumstances, I suppose I can deal with it. -dodges thrown dagger- ("You missed!- shit…"). Alright, here it is. I'm going to go run for my life, and you're going to read and hopefully enjoy this chapter, small mistakes and all. Ta ta!
(A/N2): Do me a favor, review, and let Rin know I need to be alive to put out more chapters, k? Much thanks. EEP!
Harry Potter and the Werewolf Scare
Chapter Two: Control Shall Best Anger
Draco tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. In the past couple of years he had realized Hermione was unusually intelligent, extraordinarily quick to improvise, brilliant with spells, and a virtual library when it came to being curious about something. He loved the woman, honestly, he did, but, Merlin, Fates, and Hell Hounds!
"Hermione," he began again, striving for calm. "It is completely legal, absolutely sanctioned by Pureblood customs- and those customs can substitute Ministry Law."
"I have never come across anything of the sort, Draco." Hermoine said again, for the fourth time.
Draco felt his eye twitch and finally gave way to his usual, sardonic inner voice. "'Mione," he said, using the hated nickname Ron had come up with for her. "You read the entire Hogwarts Library, we know. How often did you come across Pureblood Ritual, Custom, or Daily Life in any sort of text? You didn't, because heads of authority thought pureblood custom, ritual, and daily life would be too much for a muggle born student to learn, and, seeing that the place is over-run with them as it is, it would make sense they don't rely on it as a curriculum or rules. Parents can ask that we be treated and disciplined in the Pureblood respect at Hogwarts, but you wouldn't know about that, it was an almost strictly Slytherin thing."
Hermoine frowned. "So you're saying there's a whole new custom that adheres to our captives, and I don't even know about it." She sounded miffed.
"Hermoine, darling, if you want to learn the Pureblood Protocol, Malfoy Manor hosts a full library of books on such. I'll have the house elves send them over tomorrow." Hermoine huffed, unwilling to give voice to the eagerness that lit up her eyes.
"What are you planning?" She asked.
"That's what I need help with." Draco said, motioning for the table. "I want them to promise me an oath that will render them helpless to any future Death Eater acts, or acts for a new dark lord, and compensation for their acts from before…"
"And if they don't agree to this oath?"
"If I could get away with it, I'd kill them." Draco said flatly. "But I know I can't. So we'll settle for the next best thing."
"That would be?" Hermoine prompted.
The blonde smirked. "We'll drain their magic. Squibs from this day forth."
Hermoine chewed her lip. "That would certainly solve any problems with Azkaban- if they even get that far with the Ministry."
"Exactly. My father was able to beg off claiming the imperious curse- along with several other politically or socially powerful wizards and witches. Voldemort is not coming back this time, but I'd rather not take the chance."
Hermoine pursed her lips in thought, and Draco waited patiently for her to make up her mind. "Fine." She said after several silent minutes. "Do whatever you're planning to do. But, Draco. If I find what you've told me isn't in your Pureblood books, I'm going to be very displeased."
"Noted. Well, if this is to be done before this afternoon, I should get started." Draco left the room, whistling merrily.
Hermoine left the room at a less enthusiastic pace, her face frowning as she mulled over the things that puzzled her the most. Her friends- a neatly ordered category right up to the time Harry had left them all. Did she truly know them? Any of them? It was true; she did not get along fabulously with people- had been the outcast of Hogwarts before Ron and Harry had saved her life, resulting an instantaneous bond of friendship that hadn't severed through all the years they'd stayed. She had never wondered at it, except to appreciate the fact she had two great friends. Yet, Harry had abandoned them after sixth year, disappeared off the edge of the earth, and came back three years later completely changed. He'd left because he didn't want to be responsible for another person's death. She wanted to call him cowardly and idiotic, but those scars had scared her, and, wouldn't she have done the same thing if some sociopath of a dark lord were chasing her around everywhere, killing those he loved and cared for? Probably. She grunted, and pushed the thought away. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet, no matter how logical his excuse. Besides, that wasn't all there was too it. Harry hadn't operated on simple then, he certainly didn't now. If he did, Draco would be very, very dead right now.
She turned her thoughts to Malfoy, shaking her head as she did so. What was he going to do to their captives? Deep down inside of her, she wanted them to all die a horrific, ghastly death, but she had to work within the law, and her own moral compunctions would not allow it. Draco, on the other hand, did not have said morals. Alright, perhaps that wasn't the best way of putting it. He had morals, but they were few and far between. As far as the law went, Draco was pure Slytherin. Do anything you want using any means necessary, just don't get caught. He had a vindictive streak fathoms deep and miles wide, coupled with a fierce protectiveness of all he called his own- and that spanned a great many things. Those characteristics made for him going to great lengths to insure nothing happened to them. If something did… Those responsible didn't remain among the living very much longer.
Hermoine recalled Goyle's demise with a shudder. A Death Eater had been trailing them through Diagon Alley. When they'd turned down a little used street, sheltered from obvious sight, the Death Eater had shot a spell, Avada Kadavra, at Draco's back. Goyle had leapt between the spell and Malfoy before any of them had registered the attack. Hermoine remembered the absolute stillness in the few moments Draco had stood there, staring down at the body of one of his oldest friends. Absolute stillness, before the air was suddenly filled with power, as Draco's magic lashed out, capturing the Death Eater in a complete body bind.
It had been then Hermoine had realized Draco was powerful in his own right, almost as powerful as Dumbledore had been, almost as powerful as Voldemort. Not quite to that extent, but almost. And what happened next showed her why Draco had been the Slytherin Prince, why Goyle, and Crabbe, and so many others had followed him, protected him, from the moment he stepped over the threshold of Hogwarts Express, even before.
The Malfoy Heir strolled towards the bound Death Eater, his gait a graceful, sultry saunter that had been every bit as predatory as it had been terrifying. He circled around the man, ran his hands up the man's back to rest lightly on his shoulders as he leaned in close to his ear. When he spoke, his voice was a soft, silky croon. "You should know better, Rogers. Than to touch what is mine." He stepped back, then completed the circuit in that predatory glide. When he'd moved ten paces away, he whirled to fix the man with cold, calculating eyes. "Now, I'm going to ignore the fact you were targeting me. What I'm focusing on is that you've done what no one, not even the elder Flint has dared to do in many years. Killed a man sworn to the Malfoy's. I believe it is time for a reminder of why. Mordes Morte Activa." Nothing obvious had happened, but Hermoine had learned later the spell had been to activate the link between all who bore the Dark Mark, manipulating it to where all other Death Eaters could see, hear, and feel what that particular Death Eater was going through. It had been a favorite of Voldemort's. The next thing that had happened was sound. A sickening crunch loud enough to echo in the narrow alley was followed quickly by a bloodcurdling scream that had raised the hair on Hermoine's neck, nauseated her just shy of the point of throwing up. Rogers' arms hung at impossible angles, wrenched in two at the mid-forearm. A second, simultaneous crunch punctuated by screams as the broken limbs were crushed and crumpled to the shoulder. His arms had hung at his side, two repulsive, fleshy things that had reminded her of Harry's arms during second year when Lockhart had removed his bones. Draco hadn't removed the man's bones, he'd crushed them into pebble-sized fragments. The man's screams had ripped and clawed their way out of the man's throat, changing in volume in pitch, becoming short, bursting shrieks as the air in the alleyway had become hot, and then started to burn. His flesh had bubbled, then blistered, and then had sloughed off over the course of a half hour. The smell of burning flesh had encircled them, gagged them. The screams changed again, the sound of a man anticipating death, and welcoming it, to make the pain please, please stop. A light of rusted orange had started at the mans feet, crawling over the man until he was enveloped in it. It had pulled at him, pulled at his very atoms, and pulled him apart. The only thing left of the man had been a puddle of indefinably colored liquid.
It had been the single most horrifying and repulsive acts Hermoine had ever witnessed; one of her most prominent nightmares- and she had plenty of those: The war had been generous in that aspect.
Yet… the most exceptional part of the event had been the tears Draco had shed over Goyle, dropped on his knees next to the man, paying no mind to his thirty galleon robes being assaulted by mud. A Malfoy didn't harbor regrets, and they certainly did not mourn. But this one did.
And this one fought for the Light.
This Malfoy worked side-by-side, shared command with a 'filthy mud blood' and the disgrace of Pureblood Society. And did it all with that same stick-up-the-ass, bow-down-to-me-plebeians persona that set Hermoine's teeth on edge, drove Ron to shouting rages. She shook her head. Malfoy was a bloody git who held Pureblood Superiority to a tee and possessed the most horrendous vindictiveness of anyone she had ever met, but he was loyal and a friend. That was enough for her.
Harry looked up from his reading when the massive stone fireplace flared green.
A small child of seven years fell onto the gleaming wood floors. Harry broke into a small, welcoming smile. The child picked himself off the floor, looking around avidly, blue eyes round with wonder. "Ry!" The child chirped, catapulting himself onto Harry's lap.
Harry had only just encircled his arms around the boy when the flames flared green for a second time. A lithesome woman of about twenty-five, with chestnut hair and pale brown eyes stepped out of the fireplace, nose flaring, critical eyes panning the room, doors, and loft.
"There have been people here." She stated, pinning Harry with her steady gaze.
Harry smirked. "What? You're not going to tell me everything about them?"
The woman snorted. "One female, two males, adult. Smelling of battle and death, but only faintly, they'd bathed between the now and then. Female and one Male left here angry."
"But not the other? Huh." Harry said, cocking a brow.
"He wasn't angry." The woman said. "Tired, but not much else. He was wearing extremely expensive cologne, I recognize that smell from so party or another… very tastefully done, too. Barely a hint of it to my nose."
The smirk returned, amusement running over the man's face. "That would be Malfoy, wouldn't it?"
His friend jerked her head around to stare at him. "Malfoy? The one Volde-whats-it assigned to kill your headmaster?"
"That's the one. Changed sides, killed Malfoy senior during the battle. From the paper-" he motioned to the Witch Weekly on the coffee table. "He's a leader of Gyphon Union, the organization formed after the fall of the Order of the Phoenix. Things have changed so much…"
"Why'd he switch?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know." He replied in a voice that said; "and I'm not all that interested."
"You need to find out why things have changed, and that's one of them, Harry." The woman said. "This is your home, more than anywhere else you've been. You can't just shut everyone out again. That's not living."
The little boy had been silent until now, letting the big folk talk. Now he pouted out his lower lip and crossed his arms sullenly. Peering up through his white-blonde hair, the child glared at Harry. "'Ry needs friends, too." He declared, and both of the adults looked down at him in confusion. "Friends teach you not to not say hello."
Harry laughed, hugging the small child to him. "I'm sorry, Camry. How did you like Yellowstone?"
The little boy's face brightened into a smile. "We saw a huge car-I-boo. Lots of them." He spread his arms wide in emphasis. "And a mama moose with a baby. We stayed really still, Aunty Mica said mooses were dangerous. And Aunty Mica called a wolf family!"
"Did she now?" Harry said, cutting his eyes at Mica.
She shrugged. "The local pack knew me well enough the wanted to meet the pup."
"Their alpas-"
"Alphas." Mica corrected, smiling.
"Al- al-fas names were Crooked Smile and Tattered Ear. Tattered Ear was the boy. He was big."
"Wicked." Harry grinned. "Want to see your new room?"
"Yeah!" Camry jumped off of his lap. "Where? Where, where?"
Harry pointed at the loft. "Up there. Uh-uh." He said quickly as the boy tried to levitate himself up there. "Use the stairs."
Mica chuckled as the little boy raced for the stairs, clunking up them on all fours. "Wow. Look at all the toys!" Camry yelled. Harry smiled as he disappeared, knowing he was gawking at the animal figurines Harry had bought for him. A delighted shriek of laughter announced that the toys were magically mobilized.
"You're getting soft." Mica commented, listening to the child's laughter.
Harry shrugged. She regarded him for a couple of moments. "You smell of old wounds. You're normally able to heal them before I show up." She didn't bother to contain the undertone of annoyance in her voice, they both knew she wished he would let her take care of him- or at least help. He'd been accepted as a pack brother, and was under her protection, after all.
Harry sighed. "I had several fractured ribs, which took the most time to heal, two large gashes that needed immediate attention. After that I was exhausted enough to have to use my wand." He shrugged. "There are still a few, and most of them are half healed, but I'll get to them tomorrow."
"And I don't suppose you'd let me offer a helping hand." She stated dryly.
"Nope."
She grunted, a bit of a growl escaping her throat before she cut it off. "My room is where?" She asked, raising a brow.
Harry jabbed his thumb behind him. "Door on the left. Your room's connected to the patio, screen door."
"Thanks."
Harry shrugged. "Full moon's in two days, I wanted you to have a door to the forest. Do you know how disconcerting it is to walk into your own living room and see a larger-than-life wolf with too many teeth lounging around on your couch?" The woman laughed, waving him off as she headed for her room. Harry sighed, leaning his head back against the chair, eyes closed as he contentedly listened to the noises of the only people he'd let close to his heart in four years.
--
Two days after the press conference, Draco sat in the room they'd turned into their office and watched through bleary eyes as Hermoine came near to pulling her own hair out.
It was five in the morning. Not only that, but his hair was tousled, his body ached from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse, he'd gone to bed at three, before this annoying woman woke him up and dragged him down to this damnable room, without even getting him his ritual glass of morning tea. Cunt. No shower, no brushing his teeth, he was still in his damned pajamas. All in all, he was irritable.
"Will someone please enlighten me on why my house is being ransacked at five o'clock in the morning?"
"There's been an attack." Hermoine snapped.
Attack. How broad. It explained so very much. "What kind of attack, 'Mione?" Draco asked slowly.
She whirled and glared at him. "Fenrir Greyback, full moon. Charlie Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Luna Lovegood are all in intensive care at St. Mungos."
Draco found himself wide awake. "Fenrir Greyback wasn't at the battle."
"There were a lot of people not at the battle, Draco. A lot of Death Eaters. Voldemort anticipated on winning this one, and had another troup, a small one. They were going to hit the Ministry after Voldemort won the battle, waiting for the signal. It didn't happen, they fled."
"Fenrir begins his own reign of terror. Again." Draco rubbed his face tiredly.
Hermoine nodded. "We're going to have another Werewolf scare. This is infuriating! What is Remus going to do? And Charlie, Seamus, and Luna. They sure as hell won't be treated like victims- just another carrier! I hate what the Ministry is doing to these people. Don't they realize they're the main cause?"
Draco sighed. "I'll fund and make the Wolfsbane, as I've done for Lupin. Ron's with his brother?"
"Yes. I should really be there, but I just thought, the charts… the reports-"
"Have nothing on our most hated Werewolf. Go join your boyfriend- or is it fiancé? Nice ring, by the way. Didn't think the Weasel could afford something like that."
Hermoine smiled wanly. "You're such a bastard." She said.
Draco snorted. "You wouldn't know what to do with me if I wasn't. Get out of here."
"Are you going to come?" Hermoine asked, curiously.
"Later today. I need sleep before I deal with people again." He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "As well as a shower and a brush."
--
Later that day he was traipsing the far too busy hospital. At least it wasn't the emergency wing. Still, all these bumbling idiots- such a common place. He knocked on door number four-hundred five, then opened it without preamble. Charlie Weasley, second oldest son of the Weasley brood, lay on the bed, his flaming red hair making the paleness of his face even more prominent. Harry Potter sat in a chair next to the bed. Both looked up as Draco entered.
Draco looked from one to the other, then drawled. "Well, Weasley. You're really getting up there in the world: A visit from the Wizarding Savior himself."
"Go suck a cock, Draco." Charlie said dryly.
"That's later on in today's agenda." Draco snipped, waving the comment away airily, circling to grab a chair. "So, Little Red Riding Hood got attacked by the Big Bad Wolf, huh?"
Harry gave him a look of blatant disbelief, while Charlie reached over to the bedside table, picked up the cup of water, and threw it at him, drenching Draco. "Trust you to be a completely obdurate bastard about the whole affair."
Draco sniffed, staring down at his soaked robes with disdain. "Well," he muttered. "That answers the question on how you're coping mentally with this." He muttered a drying spell, and his clothes were once again impeccable. "Obdurate? Amazing, I thought your family was lost when it came to intelligence."
"And I thought yours got the prize for World's Biggest Prat. At least on of us it right."
Harry leaned back in his chair, unobtrusively observing the now heartily bickering Weasley and Malfoy. It was just like his days in school… only… There was a slight quirk to Charlie's mouth, something between a smirk and a smile. He wasn't tense, as Ron had been, but relaxed, almost languid with ease. Draco still had that brazen confidence, smarmy smirk permanently fixated on the sharp, angular face, his peacock pride saturating his Pureblooded drawl. There were laugh lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, and amusement danced in the grey, and Harry found they no longer resembled ice, they were too alive. They were cloud grey, like the ones heavy with rain that drifted in clumps across a clear blue sky- you couldn't help but notice them.
Another knock came on the door, and Mica stepped cautiously in. Harry noticed the absence of fair hair at hip height and sat up. "Where's Camry?"
Mica shook out her chestnut hair. "The woman you introduced us too earlier? Molly Weasley. She took him for ice cream. Her husband and the twin flame-hairs were with them, so I thought it would be ok for him to go."
Harry relaxed slightly. "He hates hospitals." He muttered. "Charlie-" He hesitated on what to call Draco. 'Malfoy' would have been rude and childish, 'Draco' would be assuming a familiarity he had never had. "Mr. Malfoy, this is Mica Crest. She was my guide of sorts while I was in the states. Mica, Charlie Weasley and Draco Malfoy."
Draco stood and offered his hand. "A pleasure." He said, peering at the woman with open curiosity. She had pale brown eyes, long red-brown hair, a few shades shy of copper, really. She was almost as tall as he was, slender, with a movement of lithesome grace. Her frame should have said 'dainty,' but there was nothing dainty in the strength of her handshake, or the power in her eyes. She was every bit as self-assured in her own capabilities as Draco was in his, and it showed in the way she was just as openly curious in him.
"I have heard a lot of you, Mr. Malfoy." She said at last, stepping back. "Not much of it was good, but events seemed to have changed in Harry's absence."
"They have." Draco nodded. "And I find myself taking up station at the bedside of injured friends." He said the word as if it were a mystery bean from Bertie Botts Every Flavored Jelly Beans, one he couldn't quite place and wasn't sure if he'd ever known the likes of it. "Its quite an anomaly."
She smirked, then turned to Charlie. He was staring at her intently and a tension suddenly filled the room. Draco slowly stepped out of the way as Harry shifted in his chair again, trying to find a comfortable spot on the hard plastic surface.
"You're a werewolf, aren't you?" Charlie said slowly, eyeing her with trepidation.
"Yes."
"Can I ask- how?" Charlie asked, squirming uncomfortably.
Mica closed her eyes. "I was thirteen, a third year in my American school. We needed an ingredient for our potions project that could only be gathered at night- and I'd put it off until the last minute. I never even considered it was the night of the full moon. I'd just found it when there was a howl that shook the ground at my feet- a rogue from one of the closer packs was hunting that night, and he'd caught my scent. He would have killed me, if another werewolf hadn't come. They fought, and it remains one of the most vicious things I've ever seen. The rogue died that night."
"Did they discover you? Your school?" Charlie asked.
Mica smirked. "I was the outcast, my family was odd, and I'd disappeared for days at a time before. Four days was enough to cause minor concern and more than enough irritation when I came back, begging family emergency."
"So you were able to get a hold of wolfsbane." Draco said.
The woman snorted. "I didn't need it. The pack taught me how to control my beast. I was a wolf in every since of the word on the nights of the full moon."
Charlie opened his mouth ask about that when Ron burst through the door. "Draco, they're trying to capture Remus."
"What?" Harry was on his feet in an instant. "Why?"
"He's a known werewolf, and all these bloody fools want to place the blame somewhere. They're probably saying Lupin is at fault for Charlie being bitten." Draco snarled, heading for the door. Harry pushed past him, and the others immediately drew back as they felt his magic draw up around him. Mica was out the door a moment later, Draco right beside her, speeding up to flank Harry on either shoulder.
They heard the conflict long before they reached the reception room. Voices were shouting various spells. The ones Draco recognized all had stunning purposes. He drew on his haughtiest pureblood mask, determined not to show the anger that had his magic surging through him, searching for a release, and prepared himself for that last step around the corner.
Remus stood behind a protection shield, his teeth bared and his eyes practically glowing amber. Surrounding him were staff security and 'well-meaning' witches and wizards, flinging spells. Draco even saw a few Aurors. He felt more than saw Harry lash out with his power, knocking several people over and disarming them all.
"What is the meaning of this?" Harry asked, his voice just this side of a growl.
An Auror stood hastily. "That werewolf was trying to go after the new patient, probably going to finish what he did last night."
A low, threading growl came from Lupin, making several people eye their floating wands nervously. Draco felt another lash of power, not Harry's, and certainly not anything he'd encountered before. He saw Lupin's head dart around, staring at Mica, who met his gaze firmly. There was a command in her stance- though Draco couldn't read it, Lupin seemed to have no problem. His lip lowered, and his eyes slowly bled back to its normal brown. Harry looked at him then, drawing the gaze of the wizards and witches with him. "Remus." Harry said with a nod.
Remus nodded back, suddenly the gathered Professor Draco had known during his third year. "Harry. Good seeing you."
Harry turned back to the Auror, his eyes jewel hard. "Mr. Lupin is a family friend who heard about the attack and came to offer his support." He said, and Draco privately admired the steel in the man's voice. The Auror actually flinched.
"You- you don't know that!" The man said indignantly.
Draco snorted, cutting off any reply Harry might have made. "I do. I am Lupin's supplier for Wolfsbane- that's a potion that allows a werewolf to retain their human mind during the full moon, if you didn't know. I've also been to several family get-togethers with the Weasleys. Mr. Lupin is there nine times out of ten. But if you want to get into details, we could also discuss those details that prohibit any unprovoked attack on a member of the Wizarding Society."
"We were provoked-"
"I can pull the memories from the walls, Auror." Draco said icily. "Will your story stand up to what I'll see there?"
The Auror hesitated, then subsided grumpily. "Our apologies, sir. We are a bit edgy." He said to Remus.
"'A bit edgy' is a poor excuse for an attack at this scale." Draco said. "I'll be talking to your supervisor, Auror Clinton." With that, Draco spun on his heel, his robes flaring much the way Severus Snape's had in his Potion's Master days. He missed the speculative look Harry cast him as Lupin and Mica followed him up the corridor.
He turned back to the waiting people, then reluctantly floated their wands back to them. "I'll give you a name. Fenrir Greyback. Recognize it? Remember it; he's the one responsible for Charlie Weasley's attack: He'll be the one responsible for tonight's and tomorrow's. Come the next full moon, your actions will decide whether or not more werewolves hunt at his side. Voldemort's dead. All that means is some other nasty is going to step up and take his place." Harry regarded them all, a savagery filling his gaze, causing several people to look away. Finding an answer to the unasked question, he whirled about, his coat furling and snapping with the combined movement and magic that crackled in his wake.
--
He opened the door to find Draco and Ron leaning against the wall next to Charlie's bed, all gazing with various degrees of interest, irritation, and a kind of fascination that a train wreck brings on. Harry looked around the door, wondering what they were staring at, and bit back a groan. Sighing, he draped himself in the chair next to Draco, idly wondering if it would be too distracting to conjure a bowl of popcorn.
Remus again had his teeth bared in a snarl, his eyes bleeding into brilliant amber, thickly rimmed with black that nearly erased the whites. His head whipped to the side, snapping his teeth together as if he were tearing out something's throat. Mica was standing upright, stiff-legged, with her shoulders back, her chin down, and her eyes narrowed unyieldingly on Remus.
Draco leaned down next to his ear. "I take it she does this often?"
Harry snorted. "It's a werewolf version of a pissing contest. She's already won, actually. By rules of the Lukoi- a name they call themselves- she has kept control better than he has, therefore is dominant." He glanced back to see Draco, Charlie, and Ron giving him blank looks. "The eyes." He explained. "His have already turned amber, hers are still the normal color."
"Ah." Draco said.
Remus looked from this irritating new werewolf to Harry, and back again. "Regular people aren't supposed to know Lukoi speak." He said.
The woman snorted. "He probably has more knowledge of the Lukoi than you do, if you have not backed down yet." She said, her voice mild.
Lupin snarled, his body preparing to spring forward. He froze in mid-motion for a good few moments before he finally wrenched himself back a couple of steps. "Bloody hell, how did you do that?" He asked, staring at this strange woman.
"I'm a dominant, an alpha. If you're strong enough, lycanthropy comes with a few perks. That's one of them. Mica Crest." She said by way of introduction.
Harry noticed Remus' eyes had returned to their normal shade in his puzzlement, and his stance had become less hostile. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he rubbed a hand over his face wearily. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me." He said to Mica. "Its just, with the moon-"
"You've been acting like a wolf that just had a rival overstep territory bounds." Mica waved the apology away. "I understand."
"Any other werewolf would have snarled back, especially this close to the full moon." Remus said, still puzzled.
"Ha. Maybe here." Mica snorted. At Remus' obviously confused expression, she sighed, turning to Harry. "You warned me, but- Merlin, I didn't take you seriously."
Harry shrugged. "You've seen the local werewolf reception, and it only gets worse from there. The werewolves themselves share the same views. I mean, centuries of piled on negative belief… this is what you get. It's a testament to both the Malfoy influence and how the Weasley name has grown that Charlie isn't already locked up in the cells they have here for werewolves."
Mica shook her head. Turning back to Lupin, she motioned for a chair. "I can explain this now or later, but I suggest I keep the both of you around for the remainder of the full moon-" she cut a glance at Harry. "If that's alright?"
Harry shrugged. "It's your house."
She froze, then glared. "I didn't buy the damned thing!"
"Its yours." Harry replied firmly.
The glare intensified. "You are the absolute, most infuriating son of a whoring bitch if I've ever come across one! First you save my life, and the life of my nephew, then you go and buy me a house and you don't allow me to attend to a single one of your wounds, you hide yourself away when your sick, you deal with emotional shit out the ass, and you don't go to anyone for help- you were accepted as a pack brother to my old pack, and to myself. How can I be a sister if you don't allow for me to help you!" She snarled, truly incensed.
Harry met her glare with an impassive stare. "I don't need anyone to take care of me."
"Right. Because you can heal those damn fractured ribs yourself, and those 'two large gashes,' which you completely forgot to mention those both went to the bone, and you had to spend hours knitting muscle, tissue, and flesh together, and there were a few more than two, and those numerous 'small gashes' were really very nearly life threatening- were you even going to tell me about the arm you broke in two different places?"
Everyone was staring at Harry, who was glaring rather mulishly at the woman. "And you know all of this how?"
"Smell, you fucking asshat!" Mica snarled, her teeth snapping the air. "How do you think wolves pick out the weakest out of a herd of animals? That caribou or deer is just wearing a painted on target? We can smell injuries and tell by smell the extent of them. You know that, and you still try to hide away."
"How the bloody hell did you get so banged up?" Charlie asked, eyes wide.
"That fucking battle with Moldy-warts or whatever. Apparently Harry thinks pain tolerance can bypass common-fucking-sense."
"I knew every risk I was taking, Mica." Harry said, and his voice was quiet; a distant warning in his tone.
"I know that! What infuriates me is you did it anyway!" Mica shouted. "Do you even remember all those times you pushed yourself until you lost it and we had to pick you up and put the pieces together? Merlin curse it, Harry. People care about you! It hurts them to see you like that. It hurts Camry, and it hurts me. Just like it hurt Ron and Hermoine- and I don't even have to know them to say that!"
Harry turned and strode out of the room. Mica glared venomously at then door, then snorted. "Well, he won that round. I swear, when he's healed, I'm going to beat the shit out of him."
"He did that often, then?" Remus asked, a little shell shocked.
"Often? Ha! Do you think hunting for those horcruxes was easy? He returned from each one knocking on Death's door. And that was just finding the damned things. Destroying them really got to him. The pack finally figured that out and we forced him to take a week between the finding and the destroying. Stubborn bastard."
"You were saying something about werewolves not needing Wolfsbane?" Draco asked. The woman was too open for his tastes. Family business stayed between family, and friends kept things amongst themselves. That's how he'd been raised. Of course, there was a doubt shed on that, seeing as Lucius was responsible for most of his early education.
Mica met his gaze, and he could see amusement floating with the amber flecks in her light brown eyes, leading him to think she knew exactly why he was steering the conversation another way, and something else told him she approved. Interesting.
"To be absolutely truthful, neither I nor my pack had ever heard of Wolfsbane. Of course, when Harry told us about it- some found it amusing, others found it disturbing. I was one of the latter. We've got laws much like the ministry does, one of the most prominent being, if we were ever to afflict one with our curse, we be there to help them through the first few moons. Those four days I was gone was teaching me control of my Beast, and finding something other than the insistent urge to tear, bite, kill. The bloodlust is very much apart of the Beast, but there's more to it than that, but you've got to dig to find it. You have to push and fight and claw your way past the initial panic."
"I've never felt anything- the wolf just takes over." Remus said.
"You fight with it constantly, and, frankly, during the full moon, the wolf is stronger. You've got to accept it first."
"Accept it?" Blatant disbelieve lanced the words.
She cocked her head at him. "Unless some one comes up with a cure, you are going to be a werewolf for the rest of your life. Accept it, and do what you can to meld wolf and human."
"I couldn't do that." Remus snarled. "I'd end up killing anyone I ran into, let alone just inflicting them."
"Do you honestly think you'd be doing this alone?" Mica asked. "I know the risks, and I know the wolf. Its your choice. You can go on fighting the wolf for the rest of your life, downing a potion that will eventually loose effect, or you can take my offer and spend the next few months with me learning how to harness the beast. The offer's open to you, as well."
"If we do this your way," Charlie asked. "What are the benefits."
"There are attributes, like the one I used to stop Mr. Lupin from attacking me, you have a chance to receive if you accept the beast. Those only work against other lycanthropes. Your sense of smell and hearing intensifies beyond what you get as a default of being afflicted. The biggest perk is not being in constant war with yourself. That has to get tiring."
Charlie frowned, weighing the options. Mica stood silently, her uncommonly direct eyes resting on him. At long last, the red headed man raised his head to meet her gaze, though something caused him to drop it slightly to the side just after. He shrugged. "I'm in. You think you can get me out of this hospital? Once they have werewolves, they're not likely to let them go."
Mica turned to Draco, who had been studying the ceiling for the last few minutes while these people had their little snarling fit. He returned the look, the raised a brow. "You're rather quick on the uptake, aren't you?" He asked sardonically.
"Things haven't changed all that much from the times Harry had told me about. The name of Malfoy still carries an awful long of weight."
Draco sniffed. "Very well. If you will excuse me."
--------
Draco stepped out of the room, surveying the unnecessarily crowded hallway with disdain. He closed the door, and then eyed the people in robes that had Hospital Security embroidered over the left side of their chest and across their back.
"This is hardly necessary." He drawled, arching a cultured brow.
The man closest to the door shrugged. "Orders."
"Whose orders?"
"Auror Clinton's, sir." It was clear from the man's voice what he thought of that.
Draco kept his face diplomatically blank, ignoring his growing irritation. That man just had to go… "I don't believe Auror Clinton has any jurisdiction at St. Mungos."
"Yeah, well. He pulled the Ministry Rules out of his ass, so here we are." Draco asked him what rules that might be, listening closely as the man listed them off. When he was done, he looked at Draco fully for the first time. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I'd never heard of those rules before."
"They don't exist, Mr.-?"
"Kane, Mr. Malfoy. Head of Security in these parts."
"Ah. Mr. Kane. As I was saying, those rules don't exist, and I can pull up the paperwork-" Draco waved his hand, and there was a small briefcase at his hand- "to prove it. These are documentations of all Ministry laws, spelled to magically update when they are changed. When you open it, say the law's title and number, and it will show you what you need. Now, there are things I really must attend to." Draco turned on his heal and strode down the corridor, unable to contain a smirk as he heard Mr. Kane snap off several of the false rules Auror Clinton had fed him, and feeling deep satisfaction when he heard the Head of St. Mungos' Security order his subordinates to their stations. They might previously have wanted to keep an eye on the werewolves, but with the Ministry's interference pissed them off enough to want to defy them. Mr. Kane didn't seem like one of those people who liked others screwing around with his authority.
He heard the footfalls before Harry fell into step beside him. "That was impressive." The dark haired man said idly, his eyes sparkling in amusement.
"Yes, well." Draco drawled. "The Ministry is getting rather ridiculous with its interference of the mundane. I'm sure that will change soon, once people start getting the proper education."
Harry snorted. "And what are you doing now?"
"I'm having a chat with the receptionist. We're going to discuss release papers for Mr. Weasley." Draco said, taking satisfaction in the prominent, but extraordinarly fleeting, surprise on Harry's face.
"I see. And you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" He asked skeptically.
"Mr. Potter, where have you been? 'Malfoy's have no hearts, and act on purely selfish motivations-' I'm sure that's in a text somewhere. After all, it is common knowledge. For instance, I am retrieving release papers for the second eldest of the Weasley brood because the rest of the brood, and the mother and father, would be responsible for endless amounts of irritation that I could not escape, seeing as the Mr. Weasely and Ron are my business partners. Those papers are just a way of avoiding all of that aggrivation. Another reason would be Ronald Weasely is now engaged to one Hermoine Granger, who, if you haven't heard, has one wicked right hook. I must spare my image- just imagine the tarnish it would have if I were to be docked by a mudblood. My father would roll in his grave." Draco smirked at the amused chuckle that came from the man.
"Well, then." Harry said as they neared the waiting room. "I'll leave you to it." With that, Harry turned down another corridor, his long strides taking him quickly out of sight.
Draco stood for a moment, staring after him and contemplating the Wizarding Savior's attitude. He had expected the Harry Potter of old to come roaring back to the surface, maybe pin him to a wall and demand to know what a Malfoy was doing near his precious friends. But the old Harry Potter had stayed submerged, and Draco was beginning to doubt it was even there. If so, Draco could really dig this new persona. Might have to get him a different name, but that was miniscule, really. Draco smirked, continuing to the front desk. The receptionist's head shot up like a deer sensing a predator, and she watched him approach with trepadition playing in her eyes. This was going to be fun.