Notes: The nocturnox isn't canon, it's something I've made up based on a mix of a few mythological creatures.

Chapter 10: Attack at the Manor

Draco felt like he hadn't slept at all. He could almost hear his own words mocking him from that conversation with Hermione the night before: 'It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about him'. Draco wasn't sure when he realized he was absolutely fucked in the head – when he noticed that he liked the way it felt to have Potter's ridiculous snake patronus wrapped around him, or when he understood what it meant for it have transformed from a stag in the first place. He stared down the stairs, feeling like an animal being led to slaughter. There were about a million places he would rather be than sitting in the kitchen with Potter. Darkfoot materialized behind him and gave him a gentle nudge, before disappearing back into the ether. And then, it all got worse. What if the reason Potter could see Darkfoot was because Draco had feelings for him? Feelings he hadn't quite identified, and didn't want to think about, but feelings nonetheless. Draco took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

He was almost relieved to see that the kitchen was empty, but it was short lived as he immediately worried that something bad might happen if Potter was alone. He would have died the other day if Draco hadn't saved his arse. Draco shook his head and willed the thoughts away. There was a note on the table, penned in Potter's untidy scrawl. 'Gone to see Hagrid, back by noon', it said. Draco considered his options, swore venomously under his breath, and slammed the door to number 12 Grimmauld place behind him. He didn't even think much about how hungry he was, he just apparated to Hogsmeade and made straight for Hogwarts.

He hadn't been to Hogwarts since the war. What would have been his remedial eighth year was spent in and out of ministry hearings, and he signed up for Auror training as soon as they expunged his criminal records. It felt more than a little strange and unwelcoming as he stood near the enormous wrought iron gates that led to the Hogwarts grounds. With a sigh, he pushed them open and made his way forward. He stopped to pet a thestral wandering nearby, wishing he had some scraps of meat to offer it. He hadn't known they existed until he saw them roaming on the manor grounds, during the summer after that horrific nightmare on the astronomy tower during his sixth year. His mother had explained what they were, and that they were friendly and liked raw meat. They were probably the only magical creatures he got on with well, except Potter's obnoxious kneazle and Darkfoot, apparently.

The Hogwarts grounds were quiet, and it was more than a little unnerving to see it so empty. It was the summer holidays, though. Draco followed the path to Hagrid's hut, and took a deep breath as he knocked on the door. What was he doing? He was about as welcome there as a nest of doxies in his mother's closet. Potter must have realized that. That was why he went alone. Definitely not because of... Other reasons. Draco wasn't sure what to say when Hagrid opened the door, and eyed him warily. He just sort of stood there with his mouth open. He hadn't really given much thought to what he was going to say when he actually got there. He managed to ask, in a pathetic tone, if Potter was there. Draco was relatively sure Potter would have laughed if he'd heard it. To his surprise, Hagrid ushered him inside and offered him a seat on a huge crudely carved wooden chair – Beside Potter.

Hagrid looked pretty much the same as Draco remembered him – plus a few new scars either from the war, or recent experiments in raising beasts. His beard had a bit of grey in it, and his long bushy hair was tied back into a loose pony tail. He still was, of course, the size of a small house.

"So, you came after all?" Harry asked, adding a few scoops of sugar to a cup of tea.

"You shouldn't wander off alone, Potter," Draco complained. "It's dangerous."

"Aww, were you worried about me, Malfoy?" He quipped, but something was lacking in his usual sarcastic tone.

"I was," Draco admitted, not bothering to rise to his bait. He didn't feel like sniping at him, apparently. What the hell was wrong with him? With both of them?

"He's right, yeh know," Hagrid agreed. "With what yeh've been tellin' me, yeh've got yourself in a right mess this time, Harry. Not the Grim, though. Grims aren't that bad. They're not as sympathetic to the muggles as yeh'd think. Though, I reckon there's more to that, too, if Harry can see it. Either way, they're at least as smart as yer average ministry politician, an' as loyal as a Slytherin."

Hagrid poured Draco a cup of tea, and he thanked him for it somewhat awkwardly. "Do you mean that in a good way, or a bad one?" Draco asked, in spite of himself.

"A good 'un," Hagrid replied. "I used ter think the whole lot o' yeh were bad news, but Snape turned out alright. He was a slimy git, but his heart was in the right place. An' I know yeh and yer mother both had the chance ter hand Harry over ter you know who, but yeh both did the right thing in the end."

"Why did you lie to him?" Harry asked, sipping his tea. "He would have killed you if he knew."

"Believe it or not, I didn't want you to die," Draco said flatly. "I didn't want anyone to die. I was tired of the killing. So, about this... thing..."

"Right. Sorry. Can't imagine yeh want ter think about that any more'n we do," Hagrid said gruffly. "What's after you is a nocturnox. They're right nasty bastards, and that's comin' from me. There's no tamin' 'em; all they do is kill and they do it fer sport. You can summon 'em with the right materials or a spell, but there's no controllin' 'em once you do. They just do as they please until they're banished."

"What are they, though?" Draco asked, frowning. "I've never heard of a nocturnox before."

"A nocturnox is a sort of ghost. They're Chinese. They call them by some other name, but I don't think I can say it right. They can be summoned anywhere. They're kind of like dementors, but they look like giant black wolves – if you can see 'em," Hagrid explained.

"How do you see them?" Draco asked. "I can't hex something I can't see."

"I thought yeh'd be able ter see it, Malfoy," Hagrid commented. "But I'm honestly glad yeh can't. Only someone who's killed someone can see a nocturnox."

"So, they're like thestrals? If you've seen death you can see a thestral, and if you've caused death you can see a nocturnox?" Harry confirmed.

"Well, shit." Draco picked at the seam of his shirt sleeve that rested above the dark mark.

"Yer Grim can see it, though. It can't hurt it, but it can keep it off yeh. It can't do much to the Grim, either – other than make it vanish for a couple hours if it gets a good hit in. Grims are just ghosts, but they're bloody powerful against the right sort of foes. Yeh just have ter work together and let Darkfoot be yer eyes," Hagrid explained. "Now, nocturnoxes, they don't like wandlight or fire – but sunlight doesn't bother 'em. They can, and will, attack durin' the day. If it hasn't, it's messin' with yeh, makin' you think you're safe. They like to play games with their prey."

"Yeah, we found that one out the hard way." Harry grimaced and gave Draco a knowing half-smile. "Thanks again for saving my hide, Draco."

Draco only grunted in reply. He wished Potter wouldn't call him by his first name. By why did it give him so much satisfaction when he did?

"So, how do we kill the bloody thing?" Draco inquired, taking a sip of his tea.

"You don't," Hagrid answered. "It's not really alive. A patronus can drive it away for a bit, but you have ter find the one who summoned it, and they have ter die. That's the only way to break the link, then it has nothin' to anchor it, and it fades back ter nothin' til someone else summons it."

Harry and Draco's eyes met for the first time that morning.

Hagrid groaned. "Don't tell me yeh summoned it?"

"Yes," Draco and Harry said in unison, staring at the rough wooden floor.

"Well, yeh can still get rid of it, but it'll be risky," Hagrid told them. "You didn't really summon it, if neither of yeh can see it, so don't worry. Doin' the ritual to call it will have got its attention in a bad way, that's why it's after yeh – it thinks yeh're a challenge, and they love a kill they have ter work fer. Yeh have to find the git that did summon it, and he has ter die. Now, I remember a few years back in Sweden a bloke called one, and they were able ter get rid of it without actually killin' him. It took a whole team of healers ter bring him back, but a bunch of Aurors hexed him to almost dead and it was enough to break the link."

"I don't know if I have it in me to actually kill someone," Draco admitted.

"No, but with that greenlox wand, you might be able to do the un-killing," Harry replied.

"Oh no, no, no. I'm not risking that, Potter," Draco retorted. "I only know how to heal non-magical wounds, and I'm not that great at that. The ministry needs to handle this. We need meet with the minister, now."

"Yeah, but we don't even know who summoned it," Harry replied hotly.

"No, but we can start with that dead muggle we found. Remember? The Kirin statue was stolen from his house, and he was murdered with the killing curse. He must have gotten in the way when they were taking it," Draco mused, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "So, this person must be a wizard, and considering he's using dark magic and had the ingredients to perform the ritual, he probably is a leftover death eater. Either way, it's out of our depth from here."

"Out of our depth?!" Harry snapped. "We're fucking Aurors! This is our job; if you can't handle, it maybe you shouldn't appeal to get your position back."

"That's not what I meant!" Draco retorted, balling his hands into fists. "I meant it's too big for just the two of us, we need a whole team on this!"

"We don't have time! What if it kills more people! Unless you don't care because it's only going after muggles!"

"And how are we going to stop it, Potter? HOW?"

"That's enough, both of yeh!" Hagrid growled. "I never thought I'd say this, Harry, but Malfoy's right. Yeh need ter take this ter the ministry, especially if it's already been killin' people."

Harry stalked out of Hagrid's house without replying. Draco counted to ten under his breath, and barely resisted the urge to hex him. "Harry, wait."

Where had that come from? When had he become 'Harry' and not 'Potter', or 'that stupid speccy git'? Something had to give, he really couldn't take this anymore.

"What?" Harry snarled, turning back.

"...If you want to go after it, go ahead. I think Darkfoot will come if you call him. I'm no use anyway, seeing as I can't cast a Patronus. I'll go ahead and meet with the minister," Draco suggested.

"Fine, just..."

"You be careful too, you bloody wanker."

Draco paced the length of Hermione's office restlessly. Kingsley was in a 'very important meeting' and wasn't available. He'd been told to wait in the ministry vestibule, but he doubted he could tolerate being surrounded by people – people that would all be asking him why he resigned. He almost hexed Hermione when she walked through the door. She made a very undignified squeaking noise when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Getting my things, actually." She answered. "Harry said you were going to see Hagrid."

"He says it's something called a nocturnox," Draco said and explained everything Hagrid told them.

"That's great and all, but where's Harry?" Hermione asked.

"He went after the bloody thing!"

"Draco, I'm going to need you to calm down," Hermione said softly. "He'll be fine."

"It almost killed him last time!" Draco complained. "What if it's not almost this time! And I don't even know where he's buggered off to!"

Hermione smiled, and Draco considered aiming a curse at her. Potter had gone off to do something stupid with no back-up, and she was standing there smiling.

"You really do care about him, probably more than you realize," She said, laughing. "It's adorable."

"THIS IS HARDLY THE TIME FOR THAT!" Draco shouted, immediately regretting yelling at her.

"Oh, I don't know, considering he's in a meeting with the minster," Hermione replied, still giggling.

Draco stared at her in disbelief. Seriously? After all that, Potter decided to grow a fucking brain. And didn't tell him. Draco sat down in Hermione's office chair and rested his head on her desk. That's it, he decided, that arsehole is going to be the actual death of me.

"What is Potter's patronus?" Draco asked.

Hermione stopped piling books into her enchanted handbag, and turned to face him. "A stag. It always has been."

"No," Draco said, finally looking up. "It's changed. It's a snake now. An albino python, I think."

"Oh," Hermione said, and the book she was holding fell out of her hand and hit the floor with a thump. She scrambled to grab it and stuff it in her bag. "Did you manage to cast one?"

"No," He said. "But what does it mean?"

"Exactly what you think it means."

The silence that followed was enough to make Draco wonder if it was possible to cast Avada Kedavra on himself. He decided he'd had enough and took the floo to the manor. He found his mother, as usual, sitting in the Drawing room with a book. She looked up when he entered, and said nothing as he sat beside her.

"You look like you're having a lovely day, Draco," She said, and offered him an apple danish. He refused it and sighed heavily. Apparently, Draco thought to himself, sarcasm runs in the family.

"I have a problem," He said. "I think I fancy Harry Potter."

"I see; it's about time you admitted it," Narcissa said, with a smirk. "Ever since you came home from Hogwarts for Christmas during your first year, all you ever wanted to talk about was Harry Potter, and how much you hated him."

"You don't care...? You don't think I'm some kind of... I don't know-"

"I am not your father," Narcissa said, cutting him off mid-sentence. "A few years ago, I would have been furious. Circumstances change – people change. I want you to be happy, even if you never seem to see it that way."

"But what do I do about it?" Draco asked, pitifully.

"What do you mean?" Narcissa asked, raising her eyebrows. "Are you asking me if you shou- What was that?"

Draco sat bolt upright, and slipped his wand out of his sleeve. Darkfoot appeared beside him growling, his fur on end.

"Go! Run!" He said to Narcissa, who did the exact opposite and threw her cloak off and drew her wand.

"I don't understand, it couldn't get in here before!" Draco cried, following Darkfoot's movements and dodging to the left as he dove past him. Of course it could, Draco realized. It was smart; he needed to remember that. It had, once again, lured him into a false sense of security. It was Darkfoot the wards had kept out, but only if the doors were shut.

"Can you see it?" Draco called to Narcissa.

His answer was a stunning charm that narrowly missed him and hit thin air. All it did was piss it off, apparently as something that was not Darkfoot made a yelping noise and smashed the end of the drawing room table. Narcissa was cornered, Draco realized. Darkfoot circled around biting at the air. It was enough to give Draco something to aim at.

"Impedimenta!" He shouted, but it obviously didn't work. Darkfoot yelped as he was thrown bodily against the wall, and Draco crashed into the side of the nearly demolished table. He didn't even know the thing had gotten him until he saw the blood dripping down his arm.

"Draco!" Narcissa yelled, and threw a variety of hexes at the place where it must have been.

"The only thing that will work is a patronus!" He yelled and gripped his shoulder where the bastard had clawed him to try and stop the bleeding. He stumbled to his feet, as Darkfoot skidded across the floor in front of him, snarling. If only he could see the fucking thing.

"Can you cast one? I can't."

"No!"

Narcissa dodged a mighty blow from the nocturnox's claws, if the wall exploding in a hail of debris behind her was an indication.

"Darkfoot! Get Potter!" Draco yelled and aimed a series of curses at the dust cloud that gave away the location of the nocturnox. It stalled it, but only barely – judging by the fact that Narcissa was able to duck out of the corner she'd been trapped in. Darkfoot vanished, and Draco prayed they could get out of this somehow. It didn't last long, he dropped his wand as he was thrown to the ground near the fireplace. The room started to spin, and it was all could do to avoid getting hit by bits of broken furniture as the nocturnox thrashed about. Narcissa kept it busy, but Draco was losing too much blood and he knew it. Crawling across the stone floor, he recovered his wand from where it lay under the armchair nearby and shielded himself from a hex that Narcissa cast that missed its mark.

"Draco! You need to move!" Narcissa cried sounding frantic. But he barely heard her as he stared at the puddle of blood forming under him. He was going to die here, that was it. It was over. As if in slow motion, he watched as what was left of the drawing room table was smashed, and the largest piece of it was hurled right for him. He came to his senses long enough to try to stand, but the blood loss made him dizzy and he lost his footing. He never hit the floor, though. Someone caught him and Darkfoot took the blow from the flying debris. The Grim was completely dematerialized from the force of it. The chunk of wood fell just a few feet short of Draco.

"You're late, Potter." Draco mumbled, knowing it was Potter from the scent of his shampoo, of all things. He heard Narcissa scream, and everything went black.

Draco woke to the sound of a dog barking. He blinked slowly, and shut his eyes tight. The light was too bright, and his head ached something terrible. His whole body ached, come to think of it. Something cold and wet slid across his hand. He startled and opened his eyes. Darkfoot was licking his hand. It felt weird, and kind of gross – not warm like a living dog.

"Stop that," He mumbled, barely able to speak. Where was he? Why was the light so bright? Why did his body feel like lead? He could barely lift his arm to rub at his tired eyes. He tried to roll over, but a horrible pain his left shoulder stopped him. He gasped and almost fainted from the intensity of it. Right. His shoulder. Flashes of the fight in drawing room came back to him, most memorably a pool of his own hot blood running in rivulets from his neck and shoulder. The nocturnox had definitely severed an artery. He looked up at the ceiling. Plain white, nothing of note. He wasn't able to turn his head to see anything else, but it didn't take a genius to realize where he was. St. Mungo's.

"Draco?" That was his mother's voice. So, she was safe. Thank God.

He mumbled something unintelligible in reply.

"It's over," She said, reaching over to hold his hand. "This morning the ministry's Aurors caught the man who summoned it. He's dead, they couldn't take him alive. Potter's here somewhere. He's barely left your side. It's been three days."

But if he was at St. Mungo's, why wasn't he healed? It hadn't been that difficult to seal Potter's wounds after it attacked him.

"The healers said nothing they have done has been able to heal where it clawed you," Narcissa said, if she'd read his mind. "Magic can't touch it. It will heal, albeit at normal rate. You will be here for a while. They are still trying to figure out how you were able to heal Potter when he suffered the same wounds. The healers are saying it should not have been possible."

Draco wished they'd at least bring him another pillow. Or Potter. For some reason, he just needed to hear his voice. Everything would be okay if he did.