A/N: To everyone who left a review, you all are amazing. I loved and appreciated every single one of them. At FireRuby, Draco's name and reasoning behind it will be explained in this chapter. As always, all reviews = love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Draco let out a breath, shuffling slightly before the grave in front of him. He looked down at his shoes, scoffing one of them into the earth.
He'd needed a break, a breather really, from all the hovering and crowding.
Being confined to a room, to an entire house really, made him feel as though he was fated to only exchange one prison for another.
He shivered.
Trapped.
Just the word brought back images and sensations from punishments he'd blocked out over the years.
He thought the muggle word for it was claustrophobia, and yet, he felt it was a completely inept way of describing what the enclosement symbolized for him.
He sniffed, rubbing at his nose.
His cold was better, but not enough that he didn't still feel slightly under the weather.
He just wanted to scream. The melancholy and desperation was now being overshadowed by his utter frustration at every and anything.
He balled his fists from where they were shoved deep into his pockets and fell to the ground.
"Well Mother." he murmured studying her grave, "What the fuck should I do now?"
He shook his head. He'd come here for space, escape, before he was forced back into the house and later into the tent where the Weasley wedding would take place.
The whole thing filled him with a sense of dread.
He'd wanted to just forget. To forget and not be himself. Not Draco Malfoy. Not Draco Black. Nothing. He wanted to be nothing for a while.
He bit his lip, thinking then of something that could help with that. He hadn't done it in ages, and part of him was almost concerned he couldn't anymore.
He banished that thought quickly for the utter ridiculousness of it.
"I'm going to join you one day." he muttered at the headstone, closing his eyes, "Just not yet."
He took a breath, leaning his head back before he shifted.
Becoming an animagus was probably the most impulsive and ill-thought idea he'd ever had.
In retrospect, he knew that his justifications for even considering the attempt had been childish. Yet, at the time, he'd simply been unable to truly think clearly.
He was upset.
More than that he was angry.
It had been the middle of fourth year, which had already had a rather awful start to it to begin with. Lucius had been incredibly short tempered whenever they'd spoken, or he was summoned back home for another round of 'lectures'. The tournament had been in full swing. And of course, there was the fallout of his rather anticlimactic reunion with Sirius.
He'd known that year that he couldn't really afford to let anything slip of the changes in his rather tumultuous personal life so he'd lashed out and made increasingly terrible decisions.
It was also probably the year he'd hated Potter the most.
He wasn't really jealous of his entry into the Tournament, far from it, it was more the principle of everything he embodied.
He could have gotten away with murder and Dumbledore would have sat him down comforted him and offered extended therapy sessions.
And then there was his relationship with Sirius.
Really, he knew he wouldn't truly be able to see him often, but he'd thought during the holiday break that he'd have some opportunity. It had been foolish, considering that Potter would without a doubt be journeying to Grimmauld Place if he had the chance…
He'd felt the true burden of his cover then. Second. He had to be good but never enough. He had to make an impression, but nothing that would encroach on the place each other piece on the board held.
So, he turned to other things.
His rushed relationship with Pansy, which had been an awful and a borderline toxic train wreck.
Petty insults, selling information, and the list went on.
It wasn't until he'd been moping around in the Manor library that the idea had came to him.
He'd found the book amongst the shelves and decided that this...this was going to be something he alone could have.
His father had done it around his age, and he figured that he would too.
Maybe he expected something to change with the accomplishment; gratification, pride, but once he'd finally shifted for the first time, the need to somehow flaunt had died out.
It had begun as an idea to do something for him for once and like that it remained.
He roamed around the woods that bordered the plots, relishing the feel of the dirt on his paws and the lick of the wind through his fur.
That had been the other surprise he'd encountered during the process.
The animal he'd become.
It was, in reality, quite ironic that he became the embodiment of a lone wolf.
At the very least it hadn't been a ferret.
He continued to move, not particularly caring how long he remained in this form. Time felt different to an animal than it did for a human, when he finally shifted back he was sure more than an hour had passed. He rose slowly to his feet, aching near his hips and shoulders.
It had been nearly a year since he'd spent so long as a wolf. He hadn't expected it to impact the rest of him so much. It was like a muscle. It remembered the movements, but it grew sore and stiff when unused.
He stumbled back to his spot by the grave, growing lost staring at that familiar epitaph.
He didn't often feel the absence of Lena. Truly, how could you miss something you didn't remember you had, but right now he wondered what it would have been like had she not died.
Sirius might not have gone after Pettigrew.
He wouldn't have grown up with the force of a vendetta on his shoulders.
She.. she might have given him that unattainable approval he'd sought after most his life.
He felt guilty at that thought. Narcissa had tried. Merlin had she tried to drive such things out of him, but at the end of it all she didn't understand how to make their situation any better than it was.
He ached with it.
"I miss you, and I never knew you." he murmured, leaning back on his hands.
He sat quietly then just watching the flowers move with the light breeze breaking the silence to cough lightly or sniff at the remaining congestion in his airways.
He must have truly been taken with his thoughts to not have heard another's approach.
He shifted slightly, noticing the other quietly take a seat not too far from him.
"It's been awhile since you shifted hasn't it?"
His eyes widened, and he whirled around to face Remus.
Remus smirked, light dancing in his eyes.
He studied him, seemingly trying to find some way to discern how Remus knew as well as what he thought of it. After a moment, he sighed in defeat. Denying it, would be an obvious lie at this point.
"How did you know?"
Remus's smirk morphed into a smile.
"I can smell it on you." Remus said.
In a way that did make sense, it was better than the alternative option that he'd simply become sloppy in his exhaustion and frustration.
He shook his head.
"And I can tell it's been awhile based on the stiffness you now have." Remus continued gesturing over his form.
Draco stayed silent at that. It had been a while, and frankly he didn't want to recall the last time he had shifted.
5th year.
He shivered recalling a flash of a spell and the teetering of Sirius's legs as he lost his balance.
He shut his eyes willing his breath to calm. It wouldn't due for him to be thrown into a panic over a memory; no matter how terrible said memory was.
"Is that how you snuck in that night..at the ministry?" Remus asked quietly interrupting his fall into the recesses of his mind.
He clenched his jaw and nodded once.
"You...you aren't going to tell him…"
"That you're the reason he tripped in the opposite direction." Remus continued, shaking his head, "That's something you should tell him yourself. One day."
He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding before turning his gaze back to Lena's headstone.
More than likely he'd never tell Sirius. Most of the time, he didn't even believe it himself. It had been just a moment, but in it he'd experienced thousands.
The one thought that seemed to rise above the others though had echoed in his ears for days after the incident.
Was he destined to watch both his parents die?
"Do you remember her?" Remus said then, gesturing toward the headstone.
It seemed like the other was fishing for information. He could understand the curiosity about it. He came to this grave quite often, but it wasn't because he remembered her.
He really couldn't be certain why he allowed these kinds of conversations with Remus when he allowed them with no one else. Perhaps it was his objectivity and his relatively warm nature. He never seemed to judge, and in truth that was probably the reason that trumped them all.
"Not really." he murmured, letting his eyes fall to his hands, "I mostly just remember that night."
The night she died.
He didn't need to say it, Remus seemed to understand.
"I wish…" he shook his head and biting the inside of his cheek, unable to continue.
I wish I had happier memories of her.
Remus nodded in understanding before his face morphed into a fond grin of remembrance.
"She was quite the character. Looked like ice, but could make anyone melt."
He clenched his fists together and listened intently as Remus continued to speak.
"She and Sirius argued relentlessly. Sometimes everyone would forget they loved each other because of how intense those arguments would be…" Remus shook his head, "But then you'd catch them in the most compromising of positions and that love was only all too clear."
Draco grimaced, horrified at the sudden image of his father intimate at all. Remus let out a loud laugh at his expression before he quieted, growing thoughtful the longer he looked at him.
"She loved you, you know. From the minute she found out she was pregnant with you she adored you."
He swallowed against the hardness of his throat, suddenly only able to manage even low and shaky breaths.
"They argued about what to name you for months." Remus said softly, "Lena believed that certain traditions were too beautiful to let die just because the rest of the family was too wrapped up in hate and anger."
He blinked his eyes furiously, sensing he was rapidly losing control.
"So they picked your first name from the stars. Sirius was in love with the idea of naming you after a dragon." Remus let out a low chuckle, "Then it was just your middle name left."
Remus shook his head that same grin back on his face.
"By the time you came, they still hadn't decided. Both of them came from family lines where the middle name was usually the father's name. Lena, though, wanted her family somehow honored and Sirius was arguing viciously against it...Abraxas Malfoy, your grandfather, was a hard man and even though it tore him he broke the family connection from her when she wed Sirius, stopping short of completely disowning her."
Draco nodded, recognizing this part of the story as something he'd pieced together all on his own.
"She didn't want to name you after him though, instead she wanted to name you after her brother, who she'd loved incredibly." Remus let out a breath, "It was certainly mutual, because until it became nearly impossible, they still spoke as frequently as they could manage."
"Sirius must have hated that." he spoke before biting his lip at his quick outburst.
Remus nodded, not the least bit deterred that he'd interrupted him.
"But then you came, and it was too early…" Remus trailed off, letting his eyes drift to the headstone, "You were such a tiny baby with hair so blonde it was nearly white." He smiled slightly, "And Sirius was just in shock, staring at you like you were the only thing in the world that he could see. He gave in to Lena then. What with it being such a surprising and difficult birth...I think he figured that it was all so fragile and if it mattered so much to her, her wouldn't deny her it."
Draco grew silent before he finally spoke.
"I miss her." he let out a breath, "I miss her and I never knew her."
"Yes you did." Remus said quickly, leveling him a look, "Some part of you did, and that same part always will."
Draco shrugged not trusting his voice.
Remus gave him a thin smile before he leaned back to mirror his earlier position.
"So were you surprised at your form?"
Draco snorted, oddly relieved to be returning to a neutral conversation.
"For a while there I thought I would be something with wings."
Hermione let her eyes wander across the rather large tent.
In truth, it didn't really resemble a tent at all. It was like a mini house complete with glittering decorations and lights that rivaled the beauty she'd seen in the princess books of her childhood.
Molly had truly gone all out.
She fiddled with the ends of her skirt as she walked along the rapidly filling tables.
This morning had been strange to say the least. Dress robes were being tossed back and forth and the whole house seemed lost in the lightness that came with a happy event like a wedding.
She didn't even realize Draco was missing from the scene until he'd returned with Remus nearly an hour before they had to leave.
Based on Sirius's lack of reaction, he must have already known where he'd be.
She wondered what had sparked the outing. He'd been so restrained lately, though that may have been because of how nasty his cold had gotten.
She let out a breath.
Snape had been by again very briefly to check on his godson before informing them that a healer would be coming in two days to check the wound. She wished she could have heard that conversation between her Potions Professor and Draco.
They had such an odd relationship, and it lit her curiosity filling her with scenes of a young Draco trailing Snape and badgering him with questions on various potion ingredients.
The innocence of the image had brought a rare smile to her lips.
Perhaps the greatest thing that had come from the meeting had been the delivery of the sword, but with everything going on it had been momentarily sidelined.
She knew that Draco had wanted to use it nearly immediately. He'd even confided his thoughts to her. Something that had surprised and pleased her to no end.
We have to be quick with the hunt and the destruction. We can't give him time to realize we've figured him out.
She agreed, of course she did, but at the time Draco had been in no state to be attempting the destruction of a dark object. In general, they all needed the break from the somber feel that had gripped all of Grimmauld Place.
She could understand Molly Weasley then. They had need some light amidst all the dark.
She spotted Harry, glamour still firmly in place, chatting with Krum in between stealing glances at one fiery red haired beauty.
Harry was such a fool with girls, especially when it came to Ginny Weasley.
She let out a breath, edging closer to the edges of the tent before her eyes found and lingered at a figure sitting near the makeshift bar.
Draco.
He'd protested coming at all, but Sirius had been quick to shut him down.
He didn't want him gone too long from his sight, and the sentiment was obvious without being stated.
This curse...it was draining him fast, much faster than any of them were comfortable with.
She found herself moving toward him, examining his disguise.
He'd done his own glamour, charming his hair dark enough to match Sirius's normal color and filling his eyes with much more blue than gray.
Despite the changes he made to his jaw and cheekbones...well… she could still see him.
She didn't know how to feel about that.
She sat beside him with a quiet greeting before she let her eyes drift out toward the dance floor that was filled with pairs.
In the center, Fleur was practically shining as she gracefully moved in sync with Bill.
She didn't realize the frown was on her face until Draco commented on it.
"Careful Granger, your judgement is showing."
She scoffed as she raced through at least one possible argument to say in response to his accusation.
Draco wasn't having it.
"So why don't you like her?" He said turning fully to face her before inclining his head in the girl's direction.
Hermione bit her lip before sagging in defeat.
Really she had no hope in lying to someone who was as skilled at it as Draco.
"I don't dislike her." She insisted already feeling her frown return, "I just don't see how someone can be so preoccupied with how things look and what not."
She winced at her end. She'd made the other woman out to be a shallow airhead.
Draco's lips inched into a small smirk.
"Not always. She's actually quite clever. She must have been anyway," Draco shrugged his shoulders, "To qualify for the tournament."
She said nothing letting her eyes move away from the bride and groom and to the other couples in turn.
"That's disappointing, I thought you'd arg-"
"Why don't you dance?" She asked then interrupting him, leaning her head in the direction of a rather pretty girl who'd been eyeing Draco from her seat across the room.
Draco shrugged not even sparing a glance at the girl she'd gestured to.
"You can though. I remember from the Yule Ball." she continued hoping to distance the conversation as far away as possible for her rather confusing dislike for the bride.
Draco gave her an amused smile, his brow lifting to taunt her over that small admission on her part.
She'd watched him then.
It had been hard not too. He'd moved with such grace on the floor along with Pansy. It had rivaled the great care she and Viktor had had while twirling around the hall.
He shook his head, eyeing her. "You really are strange Granger." he murmured before shockingly reaching over and clasping her hand to tug her with him to the dance floor.
"What are you doing?" She hissed softly, mindful of the few lingering looks they were drawing.
"I'm going to show you everything you think you don't have."
She didn't have a chance to respond before he drew her up into position and began moving them perfectly in beat with the music.
"I hope someone's at least told you how good you look tonight." Draco said before spinning her.
She blushed as she twirled back to face him.
"A few." she murmured.
It felt different coming from him though. While they were friends, they weren't friends in the sense that she was friends with Harry or Ron or the rest of the Weasleys. No. Draco wouldn't offer her a compliment because he felt some sense of obligation to say it. Not that her friends would either. She did look good, she'd put in the effort to, and she'd taken their compliments in turn without truly lingering on them or taking them to heart.
Yet, with Draco, she knew he wouldn't offer empty compliments unless he actually meant them, and it was for that reason her cheeks remained slightly flushed.
The smirk stayed on Draco's face even as he shifted the conversation.
"So you noticed me at the Yule Ball."
She bit her lip, sheepishly. She'd hoped he'd neglect that tiny slip of information.
"It's just. You danced so well."
He snorted.
"I should hope so. What with all the balls my parents threw and the lessons that went with them."
She noticed how he'd seamlessly referred to the Malfoys as his parents, a habit as well as a truth the longer she thought about it.
"So why sulk in the corner instead of put all those lessons to good use?" she asked lightly.
He tilted his head to examine her, and for a moment, she thought he was about to argue with her before thinking better of it.
"Had no reason too." he said instead, twirling her once more as the music seemed to grow softer and softer.
"Pity." She murmured in reply as they both came to a stop as the music finally faded away.
He smirked slightly tearing his eyes momentarily from hers at something off in the distance that had caught his eye.
She turned to find Xenophilius Lovegood standing off to the side. She frowned unsure what Draco had spotted until her eyes came to rest at the shining chain around his neck.
That same symbol.
Some sort of recognition flashed in Draco's eyes before he shook his head.
"Draco…"
"Enjoy your next dance Granger." He said softly spinning her.
She protested only now hearing the music creeping back to fill the tent. She whirled to try and find him before a pair of arms came around her.
Startled, she looked up to find a familiar set of blue looking questioningly down at her.
Ron.
She let out a huff, letting Ron clumsily lead her through the next dance all the while looking for Draco within the crowd.
He slipped passed another couple in his hasty exit. That symbol he knew, and it was driving him mad that he couldn't quite place it.
He winced at the pang against his temple.
His mind was racing and he had no hope of peace stuck in this loud, hot, and stuffy tent that was beginning to aggravate his sinuses.
He neared the flap of the tent only to feel a hand circle around his right arm and pull him to a stop.
"Just where do you think you're going?"
He groaned, turning to face Tonks.
"You are not supposed to be outside of the tent. Rules." She continued with a frown marring her face.
He let out a breath that turned into a soft cough.
He thought how best it would be to respond. He wanted to argue and somewhat petulantly remind Tonks, his father, and Remus that he was in fact of age and didn't need rules or babysitting, but he doubted that would get his point across.
He just wanted some time to think. To breathe.
He sniffed and ran his knuckles under his irritated nose.
"Please." he said softly. "I just want some fresh air this," He gestured toward the crowded area of the tent, "isn't helping."
Tonks eyed him before he saw a bit of pity creep into her clear and bright eyes.
Gods he hated the sight.
He reminded himself that he was lying by telling the truth to comfort his injured pride, but really with the way his head was pounding and his body aching, he didn't know where either began or ended.
"Alright but don't go far and don't stay out too long. The cold's not good for you either."
He nodded for once incredibly grateful for his shit lungs.
He turned and quickly resumed his exit not pausing to breathe until he felt the cool air hit his face.
He let out a sigh not surprised in the least when it was followed by a short string of soft coughs.
He rubbed at his temples mentally chiding himself for not taking anything before coming. In truth, it hadn't crossed his mind between the other things he was worried about along with his determination to block out the entire obligation.
Absently, his hand reached to rub at his left arm, working at the stiffness. He'd numbed it well by dabbing on more than the normal amount of the salve on it. The soreness from the fading numbness was beginning to peek through though hence the resistance his muscles felt at the slightest movement.
He closed his eyes the symbol around Lovegood's neck burned into his mind.
He knew it. It was right there at the edges of his mind, but somehow he was unable to reach the thought.
Frustrated, he paused along the tent scuffing one of his shoes into the ground. He drew his folded arms tighter to his chest. The seasons were beginning to change, and while it wasn't so much as outright brisk as the world prepared for what was surely going to be a quick and cool fall, the temperatures were dipping much lower than normal once the sun faded from sight.
He huffed, seeing wisps of his breath condense briefly before his face.
He was slipping. He could feel it. Perhaps Snape was right to rush that meeting with a Healer. He was losing his mind in more ways than one...especially that dance.
Merlin.
He was barely able to acknowledge their more amicable relations and he'd just gone and voluntarily danced with the girl.
It hadn't been unpleasant, and that was probably the fact that disturbed him the most. He'd just felt uncharacteristically sympathetic to her when she'd shown that brief bit of insecurity staring down Fleur.
He could read her easy.
The part Veela was beautiful and bright, a package deal really if he allowed himself time to ponder such things.
He'd just never figured that Hermione would see such a thing and think herself lacking. He'd certainly never taken her as the type to fret over such things, but at the end of the day, she was a person, a girl, and every person had their faults and fears.
She was a fool for it though.
She wasn't conventionally pretty and certainly not the obvious gorgeous that he'd grown up with both in pureblood society and later on in Slytherin. No. With Hermione one had to take in all her features, truly examine every bit of her to fully realize her own rather unique allure. Then if one took in her own passionate qualities, the bits of her on the inside, she shone.
She was beautiful, and it made him uncomfortable to think. Not because it was true, but rather that he'd noticed and wanted to at least bring her attention to it. To comfort her in his own broken way.
He bit his lip, sniffing as he rubbed his nose with his wrist.
What was he doing getting involved in such things?
"Gods Draco what is wrong with you?" he muttered.
Ron didn't bug her about her dance with Draco, perhaps he was merely trying to hold in his temper while amongst so many of his relatives, but she was grateful for it all the same.
She wasn't sure she could explain it herself, that slight dizziness she'd had even when they weren't spinning.
He knew her. Merlin knew how, but he seemed to understand how she thought and that was a strange thing to think.
Though, logically she knew it wasn't just her (Draco seemed adept at reading people in general), but no one, no one, had ever been able to figure her out so quickly and easily. She had started her friendship with Draco on impulse, but now she was wondering if perhaps it was a lucky coincidence that she'd formed it all the same.
She'd never had a friend who even remotely understood how her mind worked.
She felt hot all of a sudden within the tent and quietly and carefully made her way toward the cool outside.
She stayed near the flap, rubbing her hands up her arms before pulling her wand and silently casting a warming charm. Her eyes drifted up at the lingering bits of sun that were clinging to the sky.
It really was a beautiful day.
She heard someone shuffle around the corner of the tent before a muffled sneeze followed.
She cocked her head before taking a deep breath and rounded the corner.
He was leaning casually against the tent with his arms folded and pressed close to his chest.
She could see him shivering slightly, and she bit back the impulse to chide him for not at least casting a warming charm.
She took out her wand once more and cast one herself before pocketing it again.
"You'll catch another cold if you aren't careful." she said softly coming to stand beside him.
He shrugged.
"Haven't really shook this one."
She didn't know what to say to that so she kept silent and mimicked his position by letting her back rest against the frame of the tent.
"What are you doing out here?" She didn't bother with reminding him that he wasn't supposed to leave the tent. She doubted the idea of rules really mattered to him anyway. He'd broken them often enough.
He shrugged, contemplating his answer before he spoke.
"Couldn't really breathe in there." He ran a hand through his hair in slight frustration, "I should have taken something before we came."
She wrung her hands together as a comfortable silence settled between them. She kept glancing at him trying in vain to glimpse some sort of crack in him.
"Why did you do it?" She spoke then, biting her tongue, "Why'd you ask me to dance?"
He looked slightly amused.
"Did you not enjoy it?"
She shook her head frowning, "That's not the point."
He took her hands in his and suddenly she was back in that same dance position.
"You think entirely too much about such a simple thing." he said softly near her ear.
They swayed slightly in place.
"Draco." she said softly as his face grew closer and closer. "What are we doing?"
He closed his eyes tiredly, letting his forehead rest on hers.
"I don't know." He said quietly.
She closed her eyes too, fully immersed in his scent. He was a mix, a continued dichotomy, light like fresh air and then undeniably distinct in a blend of spice and pine.
She got lost in it.
She felt him stiffen, and was about to ask him what was wrong when she heard a crash from inside the tent.
She turned, wide eyed to Draco who had already drawn his wand.
Shit.
They both dashed back into the tent to find the place in chaos. Black robes. Red. Green. Spells were being shot from seemingly every corner of the room.
She dodged a stray spell searching frantically for Harry and Ron. They had to get out of here. They had to get out fast.
She lost Draco in the crowd, and when she saw him again his glamour had begun to slip as he fought viciously against one particular Death Eater.
She'd never seen him in action, and she was stunned at the sight. He was like a fiend, but incredibly graceful where a fiend, she imagined, would be brute in his attacks.
They were shouting at each other, not particularly shooting spells at one another for a a brief moment. She reluctantly tore her eyes away and found Harry and Ron alternating between running and fighting. Quickly, she turned and grabbed them both by the arm before they took off running.
She was focusing on one goal at a time.
She needed to get Draco, and then they would all apparate out.
Harry seemed to pick up on what she was doing and immediately shot spells at everyone blocking their path. She could here Ron shouting that he had to help his family, but she didn't have time to respond before they'd come up on Draco and grabbed him by the shirt before she spun and the chaos faded around her.