Talon and Tail

Chapter 8: No man's land

Post date: 7/15/16

Draco awakened with a start, his slumber disturbed by the now familiar sound of Walburga Black's harsh screams. He immediately felt the first pulses of a pounding headache coming on. Since the encounter with his Aunt Bellatrix in Diagon Alley, he had been plagued with migraines: a side effect of the curse wound, according to Snape. And now, it seemed that their highly anticipated guests had arrived with a very literal bang. Snape had warned him that the Weasleys and their Mudblood tag-along would be arriving soon, but he hadn't been looking forward to it.

His dread was especially pronounced since Snape had sent his short-lived ally, the house-elf Kreacher away. The Potions Master was undoubtedly still furious about the sketchbook incident, the werewolf Lupin hadn't yet returned, and Potter would now be thoroughly distracted with his little Gryffindor fan club. Draco's sense of utter isolation at Number Twelve Grimmauld – and in wizarding England at large, for that matter – was more pervasive than ever.

Draco stared morosely at the ceiling and groaned quietly when he heard the Weasley matriarch mention his name. They had silenced the horrid portrait by now, but seemed to still be standing in the hall, and even though the group was speaking in whispers, their voices carried easily into his temporary room since the door was ajar.

"Harry, dear, is it true what Ron's told us, that the Malfoy boy has been staying here with you all these weeks? I could hardly believe it, since Dumbledore hasn't mentioned it at all, and of course, his parents – well…" the woman's nosy voice stammered out and Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry was quick to reply, however, and Draco heard the teen say, "Yes, Malfoy got here even before I did, actually. I don't really know all the details," he added with a cough, and Draco realized with some surprise that Harry was lying on his behalf, perhaps out of respect for his privacy? After a moment of hesitation, Harry continued, "But he's been laid up pretty bad since the trip to Diagon Alley, thanks to a little run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange, so it doesn't exactly look like he's Mr. Junior Death Eater, does it?"

At once, Draco heard Ron's familiar voice scoff, "Oh, sure! He's got to be faking, Harry, come on! It'll be third year with Buckbeak all over again!"

Molly Weasley hissed, "Ron! How could you?" and Draco heard a faint slapping sound, as if the woman had swatted the teen's arm.

But then Harry's voice echoed along the hall again and now he sounded uneasy. "No, Ron… he's definitely not faking. After the Ministry—" his voice broke but then he continued, "—you should know that Bellatrix is no joke."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Harry said quietly, "Now come on, then, I can help you all take your stuff up to your rooms."

And with that, Draco heard a low shuffle as the various members of the group gripped trunk handles and owl cages and then creaked away up the stairs. He leaned back in the bed and examined his right forearm, which had been wrapped in bandages for various days until Snape had finally removed them early that morning. The Potions Master hadn't made a big affair of it, just explained curtly that any further healing would be very gradual, but that he should continue to treat it with cooling cream until all the pain had subsided.

The new scar that was left there puckered up from his pale skin. It was ugly and red, with a faint black outline that surrounded the scar itself and then trailed upwards along his arm until it approached his shoulder, where it suddenly stopped. Draco flexed carefully and inspected the roughly carved letter V that marred his flesh. He wasn't officially marked, he knew, but Bellatrix had managed to brand him all the same.

Dumbledore and Snape had promised him a choice and protection, and now it seemed that even Harry Potter of all people was willing to defend him to some extent. He was surrounded by arrows pointing him towards the Light. But as Draco studied the ugly scar on his arm, he was acutely aware that whatever his choices were, most of the Light probably wouldn't even want him. He chuckled grimly at the irony of it. Here he was, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, holed up in the Order of Phoenix's headquarters with the bloody "Chosen One" and the most infamous blood traitors around, and freshly marked as Voldemort's own. He was in no man's land, and he didn't know the way out.

x.T.a.T.x

Harry wasn't used to there being so much hustle and bustle going on at Number Twelve Grimmauld anymore, since it had been so quiet over the past few weeks with just Draco, Snape, and Remus. But Molly Weasley had marched in and taken the house by storm. Within the blink of an eye, she had set all the teens to scrubbing and sweeping to "freshen the place up a bit." Harry had thought he would have plenty of time to catch up with Ron and Hermione from the off, but in reality, their interaction that day was reduced to quick grins as they passed each other on the staircase on the way to their next chore.

Oddly, Harry didn't mind it as much as he would have imagined, since it gave him some time to think. Draco and Snape were both conspicuous in their absence from the house's activity, and his thoughts wandered to the two Slytherins time and time again. Ron's comment about Draco faking the severity of his injury had bothered him greatly. Was it just because now that he was faced with the weight of the prophecy, Harry needed to know that Ron could take the war seriously? Somehow, he didn't think that was the full extent of it. The reality was that he had seen changes in Draco over these weeks; he had noticed the other teen's overtures towards the Light. After so many years of seeing him as a snobby little Death Eater wannabe, Harry could finally understand a bit of the pressure Malfoy had been under. Seeing the damage that his own aunt had been willing to inflict on him… it was mind-boggling. Draco had always bragged about his family, but what a family!

Meanwhile, Snape was also acting strangely. The Potions professor was definitely still a git, Harry knew, but he hadn't been as much as a jerk as he could have been since they had both taken up residence at the old Black house. He was giving him Potions lessons – and they were actually decent for once, too – and he was getting along well enough with Remus, and he had apparently agreed to give him Occlumency lessons again despite the disasters of the previous year. Plus, he had taken him to Diagon Alley, and had even tried to help him with the vision a few days ago. Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about that last bit, since Snape's interference had cut off his access to the information he so craved, but really, it had sounded like the professor hadn't really known exactly what would happen himself, and it had helped with the pain.

And then there were the bizarre events of the day before: Snape's conversation with Dumbledore – in which he actually seemed to be defending him – and then his reaction to their theft of the sketchbook and that word, horcrux.

Frankly, Harry didn't know what to make of it. One minute Snape was telling Dumbledore that he was underestimating him, and the next, he was refusing to share what he knew about Regulus Black's sketches. Sometimes he was almost kind to Harry – like when he tried to help when he was in pain from the vision, and delivered his birthday presents in the night – but then at other times he still treated him just as harshly as he always had. The man was full of contradictions, and Harry was hard put to know which version of the Slytherin was the truer one. Or was it all a game of masks?

He was still lost in his musing when Ron and Hermione converged on him in the room he would now be sharing with his redheaded friend again.

Ron threw himself across the twin bed that had customarily been his and groaned, "Finally! It was like last summer all over again! I thought she'd never let us go."

Hermione settled into the armchair in the corner, humming her agreement. "Well, now that the dinner dishes are done and this place is all tidied up, I expect it'll take Mrs. Weasley at least until tomorrow to come up with more chores for us. At least here she's more pleasant, since Fleur isn't about…"

Ron snorted and looked pointedly away. Harry thought he saw a blush creep across the redhead's cheeks. "Fleur Delacour?" He asked, eyeing his two friends curiously. "From the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "It seems she and Bill have grown rather close, and so she's been staying at the Burrow but she doesn't seem to get along very well with Mrs. Weasley. But that's no matter – she's gotten her own flat now, closer to Gringotts. Anyway," she continued, brightening, "how have you been? We barely had any time in Diagon Alley since it got so hectic with Malfoy's injury… Is he alright? Are you alright?" She sucked in a breath and whispered, "Have you heard anything new about – well, about Voldemort?"

Harry tensed, remembering his vision from a few nights before and how Snape had delved into his mind. He very much wished to avoid sharing that with anyone – after all of the events of the previous year, he knew no one would be happy to hear about him having more visions. Dumbledore and Snape had made that quite clear.

Finally, he said, "Yeah, I think Malfoy will be alright. Snape was able to stop the worst of the damage, so I guess Malfoy got lucky in that respect. And I'm fine. I've just been here with Snape and Remus and Malfoy… sometimes Tonks comes by. It's been a bit boring, really; we have Potions lessons every day to help Snape restock the Hogwarts supplies." At this, Ron and Hermione both raised their eyebrows, looking disbelieving. Harry continued, "And there's been pretty much zero Order business here so no, I haven't really heard anything. Snape's quiet, and Remus has been gone on a mission. He should have been back by now but he's not and no one will tell me anything – Dumbledore even visited the other day and just told me not to worry about it."

The moment Harry stopped speaking, Ron and Hermione launched new questions simultaneously.

Sounding very skeptical, Ron asked, "Snape's been giving you lessons? Voluntarily?" while Hermione queried, with narrow eyes, "Dumbledore's been here? Just the once?"

Harry nodded to Ron first. "Yeah, he has. To me and Malfoy both. Did you guys see that note in the letter with our OWLs about being able to retake one?" When they both nodded, he continued, "So I asked if Snape had just been teaching me because Dumbledore told him to for that, because I need a higher Potions score to be an Auror, but he just said that he didn't do any favors for anyone in his classroom or some such drivel. I still haven't asked him if I can do the retake for him."

Ron had gone red again and was rubbing the back of his neck, while Hermione seemed to be studying her shoes. Obviously Hermione wouldn't need any retakes, but maybe Ron? Harry nodded at Ron and said, "So? Were you planning to ask Snape too?"

The redhead nodded wryly, then muttered, "Well actually, I've already asked. I saw him earlier today in the kitchen and just went for it." He stretched out his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "He actually said yes!" He scowled, "And then he said something about how he had more important things to do than re-teach me five years' worth of material but that surely something could be arranged to make sure I revised properly. I can't say I loved the sound of it but the retakes have got to be done right at the beginning of school so I couldn't exactly protest…" He shrugged. "Who knows, maybe he'll put me writing lines or something."

Hermione announced, "Well, you're both just fortunate that Dumbledore offered this opportunity. Harry, you had better ask Professor Snape soon or he won't let you do the retake!" At Harry's reluctant nod, her brow furrowed and she returned to her original question. "So, what have you heard from Dumbledore, Harry? You said he didn't tell you anything about Remus, but have you been able to talk at all…? I hope Remus is alright…"

Hermione drifted off, appearing uncharacteristically anxious, and Ron broke in. "Sorry, mate, but we've honestly been wondering if he's talked to you at all about those prophecies, from the Ministry… It's just that what with all the chaos at the end of the year, we never heard anything else, did we?"

Hermione flushed and looked at her hands. "Well, yes, Harry, that's it precisely, but we don't want to pressure you; I mean obviously if it's private, then…"

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, it's okay. We just haven't had time, have we? So, the prophecy that Voldemort wanted got smashed, right, but it turns out that it wasn't the only copy. Dumbledore was the one who had heard the original prophecy, sixteen years ago… And it looks like the Prophet has pretty much got it right, for once, with the whole 'Chosen One' business. According to the prophecy, I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort." He swallowed. "Or at least, it's either him or me."

The room was completely still. Ron and Hermione looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Finally, Ron broke the silence with a murmur of "Bloody hell, mate."

Hermione's wide brown eyes fixated on his and she asked softly, "Are you scared, Harry?"

After a long moment, he shrugged. "I don't know… I mean, it doesn't really change anything, does it? In the end, it's always come to that, hasn't it? I'm more of just frustrated. Dumbledore dropped this on me, and I guess it's good to know, but since then he hasn't done anything… he's still just distant, and hasn't told me anything, and even when I finally saw him outside of school and we had a chance to talk he just told me to keep practicing Occlumency and that was it, really."

Ron looked worried and Hermione bit her lip. Ron glanced at them both and then said, "Well, my parents are a bit frustrated with him, to be honest – I know they are, even if they haven't said anything. Things are getting more and more serious and yet Dumbledore's been quiet; it's like he's keeping all his cards to his chest…"

"Maybe he's hoping that he can protect you somehow…" Hermione speculated weakly.

"Or maybe he just doesn't think I'm good enough," Harry responded darkly. "I heard him and Snape talking the other day, and Dumbledore was saying they still had to figure some stuff out. And it was totally bizarre because Snape sounded like he got really angry, and he told Dumbledore that he was underestimating me… it sounded like he was mad that Dumbledore hadn't told me something… but then Dumbledore cast a spell and I couldn't hear anything else."

Hermione and Ron looked even tenser than before, but Harry plowed on. "The thing is that now I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore is keeping some sort of secret from me, and I know that Snape is hiding something too… It's a long story, right, but Malfoy and I found this book, and—"

Harry's voice suddenly broke and his throat felt hot and dry. His vision seemed to go fuzzy for a moment, and when it cleared after ten seconds or so, Hermione and Ron were looking at him with a vaguely dazed expression. He tried to speak, to finish his explanation about the sketchbook, but his brain and mouth didn't seem to be connecting properly. An echo of something he had heard recently drifted lazily across his mind, "I absolutely forbid you – I forbid you – I forbid you to talk about this…" It was Snape's voice, and with that, it clicked. Harry could feel the hum of magic in the air surrounding him, and when he looked again at his friends' lax faces, he knew that Snape's spell had affected them also. They didn't seem at all perturbed when he abruptly rose and strode from the room to find Snape.

After a quick search, Harry located the Potions Master in his provisional lab on the first floor. The bed that Malfoy had been using had been transfigured back into a table, which Harry took to mean that the teen was finally well enough that he didn't need to stay right next to the potions supply. Upon his entrance, Snape quirked an eyebrow and inquired, "Yes, Mr. Potter? Was there something you wanted?"

When Harry was silent, only responding with an ugly grimace and a jerky point towards his throat, the man sneered and said smoothly, "Ahhh. Well I did tell you not to speak on the topic, didn't I?"

With a wave of the man's wand, Harry gasped as he felt his voice return. "Ron and Hermione will have noticed," he spat.

Snape merely smirked and twirled his wand between his long fingers, turning back towards the potion he had been inspecting. "I think not, Mr. Potter. Surely you don't imagine my mental magic to be so crude?" With a flick of his wand, he turned down the heat under the bubbling cauldron. "Perhaps this experience will remind you to take heed when I tell you to hold your tongue. By any means, I'll reiterate the warning. Now that the Weasleys are here to serve as guardians, I won't be staying at Grimmauld much longer… and they wouldn't want their precious 'Chosen One' to be kept quiet until September, would they?"

Harry studied the man's back. "You're going to find Slughorn, aren't you, sir?" he ventured daringly.

The Potions Master slowly turned to face him, his piercing glare framed by his greasy black locks. "Why, yes, Mr. Potter, I am," he responded slowly. "I had forgotten that your listening skills are indeed employed occasionally, when it suits you," he added sardonically.

Harry faltered for a reply; he couldn't believe that Snape had actually answered the question. "What – What is it that you're hoping to find out, sir?" he pressed boldly.

Snape examined him for a moment before answering this time. "I expect you'll find that out for yourself quite soon enough, Mr. Potter," he said softly. "It would do you well not to forget that old houses often have many hidden ears. Now, if you're quite finished wasting both of our time…" he gestured towards the door.

Harry knew he had been dismissed, but still he dawdled. If Snape was leaving soon, he may not have another chance… "Professor? Will you please approve my petition to retake the Potions OWL?"

Snape's black eyes snapped up to meet his. "Yes. On the condition—" Harry groaned internally, preparing himself for the worst, "that you continue to practice your brewing up until the semester begins," Snape finished smoothly. "I will be gone, but I've told Mr. Malfoy that he is to oversee you and Mr. Weasley, since he has already been accepted to the NEWT level. I trust you will help to keep Mr. Weasley's temper in check, of course."

Harry nodded tersely. So this was the idea that Snape had hinted at with Ron. "Yes, sir. Thank you," he muttered, heading towards the door.

"And Mr. Potter," the man's voice sounded behind him, "Just because I will not be around to give you lessons in the interim does not mean that I do not expect you to continue working on your Occlumency. I will know, come September, whether you have been practicing."

Harry jerked out a last nod and stepped into the hall. He would never have imagined the day in which Snape would be instructing him to referee between Malfoy and Ron. Hell, for that matter, he wouldn't have thought that he would be able to have any semblance of a productive conversation with either Snape or Malfoy! The times were changing, and strangely enough, he didn't really mind.

x.T.a.T.x

The following day, dinnertime found Draco pacing in the library, hiding from the raucous crowd in the kitchen. He had been trying to stay out of the way all day, overwhelmed by the hubbub of so many people in the house. He wasn't sure he was prepared to handle their suspicion and wary looks; he had run into the Weasley girl in the hall once already and she had dealt him a few choice words before he managed to shake her off.

Still, when he heard the front door slam, followed by a spew of profanity in an unfamiliar male voice, Draco bolted from the room towards the front foyer. The stampede of feet on the stairs told him that the Order cohort was on their way up from the kitchen as well, but in the split second before they arrived, Draco took in the scene before him.

Remus Lupin had returned, and he was covered over with bruises and smelled foul. He was struggling with two figures. The woman, who had wild chestnut brown hair, had Remus in a headlock that the former professor was fighting fiercely against, while he also maintained a tight grip on the man's wrist. The man, who seemed to be trying to help Remus, although it was hard to tell, was thin, wore tattered Muggle clothes, and was just as black and blue as Remus was. This was who Draco had heard cursing violently, and as he took in the man's savage eyes and snarling face, he knew instinctively that he and the woman were both werewolves.

Just as he came to that conclusion, he saw a bushy head of hair rocket out of the stairwell, getting dangerously close to the violent foray. Instinctively, before he even knew what he was doing, he had reached out and snatched Hermione Granger by the collar of her blouse, yanking her backwards as he yelled, "Stupid Mudblood! Stay out of the fucking way!" He threw her behind himself and whipped out his wand, peering anxiously at the werewolves, who were now all three staring aggressively right at him.

The female werewolf's eyes danced and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could, various bolts of red light flashed upwards from the lower staircase and another shot downwards from the upper one. With a thud, the two werewolves that flanked Remus fell to the ground, and Draco saw four wands aimed at Remus as Snape, Tonks, and Molly and Arthur Weasley all entered the hall. Harry, Ron, and Ginny darted out from behind the adults and crouched next to Hermione.

Draco's gaze and wandpoint remained fixed on Remus, who nodded gravely at the wizards who surrounded him and lifted his hands in a sign of peace. "I am Remus Lupin, a werewolf and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Severus's first words to Draco when he entered Number Twelve Grimmauld Place were to tell him that it is rather rude to approach one's host with wand drawn."

Both Snape and Draco slowly lowered their wands, and after a brief pause, Tonks and the Weasleys followed suit.

"You're going to trust Malfoy's word?" Ron hissed. Draco turned slightly to see him rising with his fists clenched. "After he called Hermione a Mudblood? He says he's changed but clearly he hasn't! He may be lying about this being Remus, too!" he insisted, gesticulating wildly.

Draco felt his jaw tighten, and he looked around at Ginny, who was holding Hermione's hand and looked as furious as her brother, then to Harry, who stood next to Ron but looked guarded rather than angry. Then he looked to Molly and Arthur, who had matching nervous expressions, and to Tonks and Snape, who weren't looking at him at all, since their attention was focused completely on the werewolves. Remus considered Ron with a tranquil expression, as if he were studying an interesting creature that he could present to his students in a lesson.

"Look, it just came out, alright?" Draco finally snapped. "Granger's Muggle-born and she obviously hasn't heard all the stories about werewolves like I have since I was a kid. She just came racing in here and she clearly has no idea how dangerous werewolves can be, even when they aren't transformed – especially just coming off a full moon. And besides, it's not like Lupin's said something that only I would know. Clearly, Professor Snape was there too."

Ron scowled and seemed ready to retort, but Remus interjected seriously, "Perhaps the terminology used wasn't the best, but Draco's right and his quick thinking likely saved Hermione from a serious injury. She should have been more careful. It takes a lot of magic to stop a werewolf, even when we're in our human form." He looked softly towards the witch, who was still on the floor, trembling. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

When she gave a shallow nod, Remus turned back towards the two werewolves who were still lying prostrate on the floor. He studied them carefully as he spoke in a monotone to the wizards who formed a semi-circle in front of him. "Greyback and some of his pals attacked us on the second night of the full moon. They killed several wolves that night, and on the morning of the third full moon day, they persuaded various others to join their ranks. I was unable to remain undercover, and after being recognized, it seems that this one," he nudged the female with the toe of his boot, "was instructed to pursue me at all costs and kill anyone who got in the way."

Remus sighed and continued dully. "Jerome here is a Muggle werewolf, so he doesn't understand all the politics, but he wasn't keen to see me take off on my own once he got wind of the female. We did all we could to lose her, but when Greyback tracked us down again, I knew I had to apparate here if I wanted to be able to save Jerome's life."

Remus's audience was silent for a moment. Molly and Arthur had edged farther into the hall to stand protectively in front of their children, and Tonks remained immobile, her eyes intensely focused on the graying werewolf's bruised face. Finally, Snape lifted his wand and nodded curtly at Remus. "Shall I?"

The worn man shook his head and pulled his own wand from a holster that was concealed inside his right boot. "Thank you, Severus, but I can clean up the mess I got myself into. Apologies, everyone," he said tightly, and then with an expression of sad determination on his face he brandished his wand at the Dark werewolf female. "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell that cut off the werewolf's life force seemed to ironically return vigor to the wizards who observed her death. Molly started making shushing sounds and she and Arthur crowded their children and Hermione back towards the kitchen. They tried to bustle Harry in that direction as well, but he shrugged out of the Weasley matriarch's grip and stalked off towards Snape's potions room. Tonks squatted next to the dead werewolf's body and muttered an incantation that set the corpse ablaze, and Snape kneeled next to the male werewolf, who was still stunned, and opened his torn shirt to better examine his injuries.

In all the movement, only Draco and Remus were still. Draco looked across the foyer at Remus and met the man's eyes. He had seen the killing curse used more than once since the Dark Lord's return, but he had never before heard it uttered with such deep regret. Remus seemed to understand Draco's evaluating gaze, and the werewolf offered the blond teen a gentle nod. Draco returned it before turning to follow Harry down the hall. Snape would need plenty of healing potions ready to treat the two werewolves' wounds. Draco felt an odd current of peace well up within him. He was well aware that his allies were few and far between, but of Remus Lupin, he felt quite sure.

x.T.a.T.x

Author's note: Whoohoo! More drama! This chapter is dedicated to… ME! Why? Because it's my birthday on Sunday! So, feel free to leave me a review as a birthday present ;-)

But in all seriousness, this one goes out to DeiStarr, who took the time to give me a long and very constructive review! And, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited the story. From now on I'll only be responding individually in PMs to reviewers, as I don't want to come off as a total pest, but it's always great to know that there are people enjoying my writing.

And, for anyone who has read my 2005 fic, "Love and Honesty," you may have recognized the Muggle werewolf's name, Jerome. It's a little tip-of-the-hat to my fifteen-year-old self's OC creation, featured in that story. Tata for now!