A/N: Thank you to Fanofbellaandedward, Owlsnape, Babyvfan and spittingllama7856 for the support! Please share your theories!


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Wednesday 26th September 1888

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Harry woke up to bliss for the fifth day in a row.

He'd never known how liquidised the human body could feel in the throes of passion. Sleep was nothing but a welcome darkness that snuck in when his body was utterly and completely exhausted beyond respite. This particular day had been a slow build-up, burning away sleep at the furthest corners of his mind, sensations ebbing into each muscle as he finally cracked an eyelid open. Upon squinting down at the rumpled bedclothes, his stomach jolted as he watched the red, swollen lips swallow him whole –and the guttural moan filled the bedchamber.

Between his raised knees, Draco's mouth worked miracles before the full weight of his body crushed down on top of Harry, knocking the air from his lungs before his grunts and moans were silenced by the blonde man's greedy mouth.

To Harry, it was heaven.

He was more than desperate to have more of the older man, even having the strong, pale naked muscles pressed roughly against him, gyrating against his hips with his hot, throbbing member slicking a wet trail against the brunette's stomach. To be able to rut up against the man like a slobbering mutt was … incredibly arousing! He couldn't understand it!

How had they done this for nearly five days straight?

Harry was in awe as Draco peppered his body with enough bite marks to resemble a deadly epidemic. Every time those teeth grazed his skin, Harry found himself arching quickly into the touch –almost like he'd been struck by lightning. Raking his hands through Draco's blonde hair, he rubbed himself feverishly against the other man's member, already aching for more and –at the same time –wanting to drag their activities out for as long as possible before they were called down for breakfast.

"You're finally awake?" Draco smirked, taking Harry's hands out of his hair and pinning them up on either side of his head. Harry grunted through a grin as the blonde man sat up and hooked his hips over his own. "So, we have some time before breakfast is ready –what would you have me do to you?"

"Ohh I don't know!" Harry blushed, his eyes never properly focusing on the man looming over him. "I just –Gosh! I'm still new to this!"

Draco smirked wickedly, delighting in how innocent the younger man was. Oh, but he had a wonderful body to play with –a little thin perhaps –but he was agile and that was more than enough to keep the blonde interested enough. "There's no need to be shy with me," he crooned, gently cupping Harry's cheek in his own. "I've been inside you, after all."

Harry's cheeks flared bright pink, making Draco chuckle.

"So? What do you want from me?"

"D-Draco …"

"All you have to do is tell me," he grinned, flashing his white teeth.

"I … I don't know!"

"I think you do," Draco purred, running the tip of his tongue around Harry's nipple. Muscles tensed underneath him as Harry's breath hitched. "So you're either going to tell me –or I'm not going to let you out of this bed until you beg me to."

Harry laughed nervously, shielding his face with his hands. "You're so cruel, Draco!"

"Cruel?" The blonde man crawled up until he was bracing himself over Harry's head, the brunette's legs bent awkwardly between their bodies. "I'd never be cruel to you," he purred, raking his long, pale fingers down the length of Harry's throat. "I just like having some fun with you."

"Your idea of fun is very rough and twice as dirty."

"Were you complaining last night?" he smirked, nipping at Harry's earlobe with his teeth.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

Laughter rang out through the room as Draco continued to nibble and tease at the sensitive tanned man stretched out beneath him. Burying his nose in the crook of Harry's neck he inhaled the scent that had soaked into both their skin from their bath the previous evening. It made his insides cramp with pleasure. He'd managed to scrounge enough of the herbs into the hot bath and as soon as both of them were in the water –all form of animalistic cravings inside them were let loose.

Harry didn't understand how the herbs were able to do such a thing but he wasn't about to complain –not yet at least.

After their amorous activities, they dressed and went down to breakfast. Harry was able to eat a larger helping of food this time round, whereas Draco seemed to still be humming from their torrid bedroom antics. He only took some herbal tea and some oatcake –not very filling but he insisted that he'd be fine.

"Are you sure you want to work the entire morning with just that little bit of cake inside you?" Harry asked, his brows knitted into a frown as Draco stood and made to leave.

The blonde man arched a perfect eyebrow before leaning down close to the younger man, close enough for his blonde hair to tickle Harry's cheek. "I'd rather be inside you," he growled. A tremor ran through Harry as a hand came down on his shoulder. "Alas, I must bid you adieu. I have errands to run and you have more studying to do. You have the entire case of vials to sort through still. They'll be going to Snape's office tomorrow night, so make sure you use your time well."

Harry bit back a smile. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy." He secured his cane between his hands, turned on his heel and strode from the room. "Make sure you write up your notes coherently!" he called over his shoulder. "I want to make sure they're legible before you showcase your findings!"

Harry shook his head a little. The tea was indeed almost too sweet for his senses, but he powered through three more cups –it was almost addictive –before finally tossing down his napkin and making his way up to the study to take another look at the herbs from Mr. Ollivander. In the light of day, with every bottle set out across Draco's desk –the task suddenly seemed rather daunting. There were over thirty bottles! Surely some of them he could dismiss without sniffing them? His Papa worked with numerous herbs as it was, there was no need to smell the ones he was already familiar with.

Unfortunately, even weeding out the bottle he knew the contents of, he was still left with eighteen to go through.

Grabbing his notebook and a quill, he drew in a deep breath and started going through the bottles. The first one had a label that read 'KNOTGRASS'. He popped the cork and sniffed at the spindly plant inside and noted –nothing. He had no adverse reaction to this weed. With a frown, he placed the bottle to one side, scribbled a quick note in his book and reached for the second bottle in line.

'This is going to be boring,' he thought to himself, already eyeing the other bottles and vials with disdain. 'Oh well, it'll be over within the hour'.

That thought, however, did little to console him.

The next bottle read 'NUX MYRISTICA'. Grimacing, he popped the cork and –sneezed!

"NUTMEG?" he choked, as he shoved the bottle away. "Who the hell uses nutmeg in medicine?" It was a foolish question, for his own Papa would often give small satchets of the powdered root to be used by his patients.

He made another note –literally translating the Latin label to it's English meaning.

"Useless people not identifying their own stock," he grumbled as he waded through the rest of the bottles.

Within the hour, as he'd predicted, he came down to the small black bottle once again. Judging from it's contents there was only a small amount of this herb left so there was no need for him to crush any, or rub anything on his gums –some of which had left a bitter aftertaste that no amount of tea or water had been able to get rid of. Not like this last one. No, this was the one that was strangely calming. It was like a soft, sickly sweet perfume that soaked deep into the nervous system.

The label was still quite faded. It began with an 'A' –but he needed to carry it over into the sunlight to be able to read the worn letters.

"A … ACON … I … ITE. Aconite!" His face split into a triumphant grin. "Aconite! Great! Now … Oh, dear." He bit his bottom lip and frowned. Aconite was a plant that had slowly but surely been restricting to growing in Northern England and Scotland. It was particularly hard to come by.

Harry couldn't use this for his studies! What would happen if Snape needed some urgently? He'd probably ship Harry up to Scotland itself to harvest as much of the plant as possible. A shudder racked through his body. "I don't really want to do that," he sighed to himself. Casting a look at the blackened glass, he sighed and went over to drop himself into the armchair. It creaked under his weight.

The heady aroma teased at the periphery of his senses.

He tried to ignore it but –it kept creeping in!

He knew he'd smelled that aroma somewhere before. Almost constantly infact. Where –had that been?

A knock came at the door.

"Come in!" he called.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir, but would you like a cup of tea?" the middle-aged maid asked.

"I … yes that would be lovely thank you."

Waddling over to the table beside his chair, the maid quickly poured a cup of tea, milk and no sugar, before bowing out and shutting the door quietly behind her. The silence was almost over-whelming as the life continued on the streets outside the window. Birds chirped as a soft breeze blew through the trees. He was missing something vital, he knew that. The aroma still clung under his skin. Reaching up, he took a sip of the tea cooling on the table. It was sweet –hitting the back of his throat –but the effect was instant. He felt calm wash through him like honey.

Taking another sip he felt almost dreamy.

And then another … and another …

'Something in the tea,' his brain hummed, like a faraway echo. 'There's something in the tea!'

Sitting bolt upright, he stared at the tea cup in his hands. It wasn't even warm. He'd been in such a daze for a long time, enough for the tea to grow cold in his hands. His bad arm started to quake a little as he licked his dried lips. "What … the hell …?"

Was he being … poisoned?

His throat tightened. What was going on here? Setting the cup to one side, Harry stroked his hair out of his eyes. His skin was started to grow clammy and sweaty. 'Don't panic!' his brain shrieked in his ear. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm not dying yet … okay, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm!" He launched himself out of the chair and started to pace the hearth. What the hell was going on? Had Draco been poisoning his tea? Why? Why would such a pragmatic man do such a thing?

Not knowing was killing him.

'Find out what's in the teabags!' his brain screamed through the panicking, white noise. 'Go down into the kitchens and find out what's in them!'

The kitchens were cool and empty. Luckily for him, Draco likes to keep his place overly organised. Within ten minutes Harry found the cupboard that had all the tea, coffee and other herbs that could possibly be needed in ones diet. He pried open the ceramic jar labelled 'TEA' but as soon as he held one up to his nose –he frowned. They smelled like regular tea bags. So … what were they putting in his tea? Biting on his bottom lip, he frowned and rummaged through the rest of the cupboard. He could smell a faint hint of that aroma –drawing him nearer. It was definitely coming from the same place. Eventually he pulled out a small wooden box. It didn't have a label, unlike the many other items.

Strange.

Popping the lid off, Harry was hit with a pungent wave of the odour. It wasn't unpleasant just … too much of a good thing. It looked familiar. Pouring some into his palm Harry turned from the kitchen and returned to the study. On the desk, under the lamplight, both the herb used for his tea and the one from the black bottle were … exactly the same.

His insides cramped.

He threw up the contents of his stomach into the empty grate.

Cuffing the back of his mouth on his shirt sleeve, Harry let out a low breath and decided that there was only one thing he could do before Draco got back that evening. He needed to go and get some answers from Snape. He wasn't even completely sure he could trust the sour professor but … he knew Draco better than anyone.

He was the only one who would know the answers.

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Snape was writing up some notes in his low-lit office in the lower level offices of the hospital. He preferred the silence that often unnerved the other faculty members and the entire student body. The only people who braved it down there were the men who worked in the boiler room, and that was usually just to toss unclaimed bodies into the furnace. When a knock came from the windowless door, he merely drew his eyes slowly from the document he was working on. Literally nothing could surprised at this point in his life.

Sighing under his breath, he popped his quill back into the inkwell and droned, "Come in." The door creaked open and admitted the last person he expected on a Wednesday –or any –night. Straightening back in his chair, he quirked a dark eyebrow. "Mister Potter, what can I do for you?"

The young bespectacled boy braved a few steps into the room, closed the door behind him, and stood to attention. "I … I need your help identifying a substance and its general properties."

Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. With a stiff hand, he beckoned for the item in question. A small paper packet was placed on his desk. With lips pursed into a tight line, he tipped the contents out onto his ledger and, after a brief moment of poking and sniffing, he leaned back in his chair and cast an unamused look at his student.

"This is what you're disturbing me for?" he drawled.

Harry nodded. "Aconite, yes sir."

"Why is it so important for you to know the properties of this herb, Mister Potter?"

Harry pressed his lips together. His bad arm trembled a little as he gripped the vacant chair for support. He didn't bother to seat himself. "I … Feel that this plant could help me in my studies and for my thesis I just need to know as much as possible about what it is and can potentially do for patients."

"Well that would depend."

"On what?"

"On what your patients are suffering with."

"Considering our topic of study is generally lycanthropy, professor, that seems a fairly invalid question."

"Perhaps," Snape nodded. "However, we have also studied other creatures, such a daemons and vampires, have we not?"

"Neither of those holds any interest for me, sir," Harry admitted, his eyes downcast. He didn't like to admit his own morbid curiousity for the macabre creature. Whenever his arm itched it reminded him of that traumatic night and how, if he was ever in need of a cure by the next full moon, he'd have it on hand.

Snape didn't respond right away. He narrowed his dark eyes and leaned even further back in his chair until his shoulders were pressed up against the rough wood. "I may have a book that could help you with his particular direction of study." He stood up from his chair, towering over everything in the room like a grim figure lurked over the beds of the elderly. He drifted over to his bookshelf and withdrew a small book. It had thick yellowed pages and looked fairly stained and worse for wear. Harry dreaded to think how faded the ink within would be. As Snape brought the textbook back over to the desk the younger man noted that it was bounded in dark purple leather, rusted studs in the corners with faded gilt writing embossed on the cover.

"That's a rather old book, sir," Harry managed to croak. "Are you sure I'll be able to find what I need in there?"

"Quite sure," Snape drawled. He pushed the book over towards Harry with one long, bony finger. "In here are the names of herbs and plants –some long since extinct or hard to find –along with their names, meanings, and various ways to use them. I think it will benefit you to experiment with them."

"You mean like … making my own medicines?"

"Medicines, draughts, poultices or balms, yes."

"How will I know if any of them work?"

"You have a wound don't you?" Snape bit out. "Why not test some on that and see if it works?"

"On my arm?" Harry paled. "But I … No! I can't! What if it gets worse?"

"Worse than not healing at all?"

"I … I um …"

"You cannot become a doctor of medicine if you fail before you even try," Snape stated in his 'classroom voice' –a voice so loud and commanding that it drowned everything else out. He sat himself back down at his desk and bent his head over his neglected documents.

Harry took that as his cue to leave.

Straightening down his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, he gingerly reached out and took the textbook from the desk. It was heavier than it looked and the pages inside were indeed thick, yellow and had all manner of stains on the edges. His heart did a strange little twist as he ran his thumb over the faded gilt words. Was this the book he'd been searching for in the library all that time ago?

Tucking the book under his arm, he made his way across the room and after some awkward jiggling, managed to get the stiff door free and pull it open. As he was leaving, Snape's voice caught him before he's completely disappeared through the door.

"Mister Potter where exactly did you come across this much Aconite? You do realise it doesn't grow in the London area."

"Y-Yes sir, I'm aware of that."

"Then where did you get it?"

"Well … there was some in the order you placed at Ollivanders but he only had a small bottle left."

"And the rest?"

"I … well … I don't really know that it's my place to say, sir."

"Mister Potter, if you haven't noticed by now my methods of teaching and acquiring a fair number of our test subjects haven't exactly been orthodox methods, so spare me your melancholy dramatics and answer the question!"

"Well sir … I found some at Mr. Malfoy's residence."

"You found it?" the professor drawled, the disbelief etched into those cold, hard eyes.

"Y-yes sir. In the kitchen."

"Why on earth would it be there?" he sneered.

Harry shrugged, hugging the textbook to his chest and backing up through the door. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel his clammy skin sweating. Even the pores on his bad arm seemed to gape open, exuding sweat and grime from within his body. His gut twisted. "I … I couldn't say sir," his voice cracked under the pressure of breathing. His vision blurred a little and black spots started to pop before his eyes. "I … I think … b-being used in … the tea …"

"The tea?"

"I'm sorry sir but I really must go!" he gushed out, trying desperately not to vomit in his professor's office. He's already ruined one fireplace he didn't need to start spewing his guts up on everyone's hearth. Turning his back on the vaguely surprised look on Snape's face, Harry sprinted as fast as his unstable legs would permit. It wasn't that he was worried about implicating Draco, he was sure the blonde man had answers for this findings –he just really needed some breathable air!

Once in the courtyard, having caught his breath and cooled his burning muscles, cold sweat slicking the back of his neck, Harry swiped his black fringe out of his eyes and pulled the textbook out from under his arm. It was almost stuck to him. Leaning back against the cool stone of the building, he opened the front cover and leafed through a few pages before coming to a paragraph that peaked his interest.

'There are over two hundred and fifty types of Aconitum, the three main ones being Wolfsbane, monkswood and aconite that now only grow in wild places. Aconitum species are a small trumpet-shaped plant that is highly toxic to both humans and animals, though recently they have been successfully used in medicines for pain relief, heart sedatives, and to induce swelling.

The flowers of the plant have healing properties and can be used for medicinal purposes, however it is the leaves of the plant that are highly toxic and should be avoided, unless for the purpose of poisoning. The roots of the plant can also be used as an ingredient of medicines, though none have been successful to date.'

"The leaves are poison?" Harry gasped, his hand darting to his trouser pocket. In there he felt something dried and crisp. Under the lamplight in his palm, he squinted down and saw the remnants of what he's given to Snape. The herbs from Draco's tea box were almost too dry to make out the colour –but they weren't sharp or pointed like the leaves in the book.

No –there were only the flowers.

Eyes darting back to the book, Harry reread the paragraph and felt his stuttering heart calm down a little. Only the leaves were poison. Relief washed through his body. Wiping his hand down on his trousers, he closed the book, tucked it under his arm and started to make his way to the open street. Harry's relief didn't last too long though. As he walked through the austere streets, cold sweat clinging to his limbs like a second, irritating skin, another thought entered his mind that echoed louder than his own footsteps.

The aconite was in the tea.

Thought the rational part of his mind concluded that it may have simply been for pain relief, something that clearly both young men were in dire need of, but the softer, darker thoughts wouldn't let that be the clear-cut answer.

The aconite was in the tea.

Why did Harry feel the addiction to drink so much? Was it truly to purge himself of the pain inflicted upon him by that Hell beast?

The aconite was in the tea.

Perhaps there was another reason. Harry stopped short under a large oak tree, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. His throat was dry, his heart beating uncomfortably. What if there was another reason? A darker reason? A reason that was too painful to even think about let alone say out loud? It wasn't as though Draco had told him what he was drinking after all. Clearly he was only drinking it, too, so as not to arouse suspicion.

The aconite was in the tea.

Or to use it's other name ...

"W-wolfsbane ..." Harry let the word tumble from his mouth in a broken whisper. Panic, dread, pain and reality started to wrack his body, the ground unhinged from under his feet as he collapsed back against the rough bark of the tree, the Thames turning into a glittering snake, twisting and writhing through his blurred vision as he dropped. "He … H-he thinks I'm the wolf …"

Cupping his throbbing head in his hands, he let the tears come thick and fast, letting them burn trails down his numb cheeks.

"H-he thinks I-I'm the w-wolf?!"

Throughout the quiet, dark streets of London a cry was heard that would rip the soul to pieces. It wasn't, however, the cries they'd dreaded to hear of a savage beast claiming another victim. No; this time it was the cry of a young boy in desperate need of his Papa.


A/N: Oh my! Such a quick update right? Don't worry, this won't become the norm I'm afraid. I just really wanted to rip at your heartstrings ;) x