CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A/N: Onwards...
Draco took a deep breath of the sharp, cool air as he stepped out on to the Hogwarts grounds. He yanked on his tie to loosen it, suddenly feeling as if the piece of cloth were suffocating.
His numb fingers fumbled over the knot of the tie and with a sharp noise of anger he yanked it off entirely, tossing it aside and leaving his collar sticking up in awkward directions. He walked through the dark, the damp grass leaving water stains on the edges of his slacks.
He stared down at his reflection in the Black Lake, seeing into his own grey eyes and watching his breath come out in puffs of steam. He felt blood rushing to his head, the sound thumping in his ears with each beat of his heart.
He looked a mess, with his blond hair mussed and his shirt wrinkled, tie lost.
Mum would be disappointed, he thought, a stiff smile turning up one corner of his mouth.
He crouched over at his knees, peering into the edge of the lake, where bits of frost were growing over. He spread his fingers across the icy surface, applying the slightest bit of pressure and watching the ice crack in a circle around his hand, dipping into icy water just enough to get his palm wet.
He pulled back his hand, drying it on his pants and straightening upright, eyes pinching closed. He hadn't received a letter from his mother yet, telling him he'd be coming home for the holidays. It didn't even matter at that point if he ever got to go home - but there wasn't a lot he wouldn't give to have heard from his mother.
What am I going to tell her when I see her again? he thought miserably. Mum, I made a deal with Dumbledore, so I have to go deal with an out of control werewolf once a month. But don't worry, it's so you'll be safe. Also, I'm an unregistered animagus.
He felt his stomach churn. He reached up both hands and ran them through his short blond locks, squeezing his eyes closed. How was he going to lie about needing to leave her a couple days every month through the summer? She would be alone. What would she think? He was leaving his family at risk for Harry Potter.
He swallowed hard at the feelings that the simple name conjured. Stupid Potter. He felt a hysterical laugh bubble from his lips unbidden, and couldn't find it in himself to find it concerning. The lack of control over his vocals was surprisingly relieving.
Maybe he held back too much.
The laugh died in his throat eventually, and his legs suddenly felt weak beneath him. Exhaustion hit him like a wave crashing against the sides of a boat.
He wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Forget that his entire family was in danger, that he now had secrets to keep from the only people he still trusted in the world. To forget that he didn't really hate Potter.
It was easier to hate Potter.
He sucked in a breath, refusing to allow his mind to travel down that path. As he prepared to morph to a wolf - not sure what he intended to do, but needing the scape from his own mind - a voice cut into his train of thought.
"Malfoy?"
Draco spun around, grey eyes looking crazed with stress and confusion. Harry felt a pang of guilt, the words he had been intending to say dying on his tongue. He instead shifted uncomfortably as the blond stared at him in an unnerving way for several long moments.
"Potter," the Slytherin finally managed, his voice sounding hoarse. Harry recalled the broken laughter moments prior, and resisted the urge to rub his own throat in empathy. "Why did you follow me?"
Harry hesitated, swallowing. "I'm sorry," he offered quietly.
"For what?" Draco spat, grey eyes flaring to life in a way that Harry was more familiar with. The hollowness of before was frightening. This was something he knew. He knew how to deal with an angry Draco Malfoy.
"I don't know," Harry snapped back petulantly. "Whatever's got you upset."
Draco snorted, shoulders caving slightly in obvious exhaustion. "Why does it matter to you?" he asked coldly.
Harry flexed his jaw, trying to remember that the wizard was probably still very shaken up about... whatever it was he had been so shaken up about.
Is it me? Harry wondered suddenly, feeling a painful prod of guilt. Is he this terrified of having to deal with me every month? Does he think I'll hurt him? Or change him?
Draco huffed when he got no response, just Harry staring at him with green eyes with with insurmountable guilt and hints of shame. Not knowing what to make of that, the blond crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to shiver as a cold wind blew over the two of them.
Harry seemed unaffected by the cold as he flicked his gaze past the blond toward the lake. "I wouldn't hurt you, you know," he said quietly.
Draco pinned him with a bemused look, unconsciously taking a step toward the Gryffindor and dropping his arms from over his chest. Then it registered, a dawning look passing over his features. "Potter, you know you don't have any control in that form," he responded, irritated.
Harry shook his head. "I'd probably hurt you right now more than it-he-the wolf-whatever, would," he protested. "It - remembers meeting you, the first full moon. I guess it doesn't know many wolves so you're important, by default. I promise you won't get hurt. It.. Likes company? And you're all it's got," he explained, fumbling over his words.
Draco stared at him for a long moment and Harry shifted his weight, muscles tensing as the stare continued on for several painful seconds.
"Are you saying you'd hurt me untransformed? Was that a threat?" he asked finally.
A barking laugh escaped Harry's lips and he tucked his head slightly, glancing to the ground to hide the grin curling up the corners of his lips. "You're so paranoid."
"So it was a threat? I'm supposed to be comforted by the fact that you want to hurt me, just not as much when you're a flesh-eating monster?"
Harry flinched, his smile fading as he lifted his head and nodded stiffly. "You don't have to do this," he said flatly. "You don't owe me anything."
"I know I don't," Draco responded. "But Dumbledore won't just let me skip out on it. He's not that type, Potter. And I'm not in a position to- well. I'm stuck with it," he snapped.
"I'm sorry."
"Quit saying that."
Harry nodded slowly in acquiescence. He finally shifted his gaze over to Draco, watching him in a way that left the blond's skin itching.
"I think your hair looks better that way, less neat," Harry said awkwardly, the words falling out before he realized how out of place they were.
Draco blinked at him, and said nothing, curling and uncurling his hands into fists to warm his fingers. Potter seemed immune to the cold.
Harry felt a small surge of pride as he realized the blond seemed to have - for whatever reason - calmed down after he'd approached. That probably meant he'd done something right. Sort of.
It wouldn't hurt to have a better relationship with Mal-Draco, if he was going to expect him to keep a secret that meant life or death for him. He just had to keep telling himself that was the reason he was being civil. And that was it. They were relying on each other.
"Can I see you?" Harry asked suddenly, startling both of them.
Draco blinked. "Can you not already see me?" he asked slowly, sounding moderately concerned while his face twitched in slight irritation.
"I mean in your wolf... form," Harry said quietly, gesturing in front of himself in what he clearly thought was a good way to depict the words 'wolf form'. Draco hesitated, biting off a bit of the inside of his cheek and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Why?"
Harry shrugged slightly. Draco felt a niggle of pride and finally shrugged nonchalantly with one shoulder and nodded. With a moment's hesitation, he shifted into his animagus.
Harry's mouth fell open in a small 'o' shape in awe.
The wolf was huge, something he hadn't respected in his own canine form. His fur looked incredibly... fluffy, its white coloration practically luminescent in the dark of the night under the soft glow of the moon. Harry resisted the urge to reach out and pet it, not wanting to test his boundaries.
Draco seemed pleased with the staring, puffing himself up slightly and twitching his ears - which looked to be incredibly soft. He tilted his head back, wolf-like grey eyes shutting as he howled up to the sky, sending chills down Harry's spine. The sound reverberated through the air as he slowly lowered his head again, tired eyes flicking open.
Responsive howls rose up in the very far distance.
Swallowing hard, Harry nodded to him slightly. The white wolf nodded in return, getting to his feet and watching the wizard leave.
Harry turned toward the castle, knowing whatever sort of moment they'd been having was gone, and didn't look back as he made for the Gryffindor tower.
Harry stumbled into Potions three week after, feeling utterly exhausted. Hermione was still nagging him about what Dumbledore had wanted, and for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to confide in her. He needed to figure out how he felt about all of it before he listened to her outrage and shock at the idea.
He slid into his seat, glancing to Malfoy as he did so. Draco didn't glance up as Snape read off the page numbers and settled in behind his desk.
Harry flicked his book open to the correct page, offering it to the blond wordlessly. Draco nodded his thanks, dodging the werewolf's green gaze and scanning the page silently.
It's next week, Harry thought. He won't look at me. Maybe he isn't going to show up - he could have changed his mind. Anxiety curled up inside him and he swallowed hard. The next transformation could be his very first without the affects of Wolfsbane. He was still going to be taking it, so maybe... things would just go back to normal and they wouldn't have to keep up the arrangement.
"Pass the thorns," Draco said impatiently. Harry jumped, bumping the table with his knee. He snatched up the rose thorns from his side of the table and dumped them into the potion, gasping in pain as he pricked himself on one of the edges. He sucked his bleeding finger into his mouth and Draco winced, making a quiet noise of distaste.
"That's disgusting, stop it," he muttered irritably as he poured a bit of peppermint oil into the purple, softly shimmering potion in their cauldron. Harry sent him a glare and left his bleeding finger in his mouth petulantly.
Draco scowled and stirred the love potion rather aggressively and Harry felt his stomach swoop as its sweet scent floated through the air. He pulled his finger from his lips finally, swallowing hard. The potion smelled a bit like mint chocolate.
"I think you stirred it too many times," Harry said finally as he peered into the potion.
"No, I just need the ashwinder eggs," he said impatiently, leaning across the table to snatch them from Harry's side. He dropped a couple of the frozen eggs straight into the potion, and it immediately changed to a nearly translucent pink, a few bubbles leaping off of the surface.
Harry glanced to his book, nodding. "Oh, yeah," he said thoughtfully. "What's it smell like to you?" he asked curiously as he waved his wand over the simmering potion twice, as the textbook indicated.
Draco sent him a startled look which Harry chose to ignore.
"Rose thorns and mint," Draco said after a prolonged pause, still looking surprised. Harry felt a pang of guilt.
Was it really that surprising to him that Harry could be civil?
"Smells like chocolate to me," Harry said, taking in a deep breath as he leaned over the potion. Draco swatted him back, glaring.
"Don't get your hair in it," he snapped, grey eyes flashing. "Merlin knows what that'd do to the potion," he grumbled under his breath.
Harry narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to argue that human particles don't affect potions - other than in Polyjuice - before he stiffened as he realized the implication. Of course, he wasn't human, so that didn't pertain to him anymore.
"Are you always a prick, or do you save it for me?" Harry snapped.
"I like to make you feel special, so I save it all for you," Draco drawled in response, completely unaffected as he stirred the potion another time.
"Fuck you," Harry snarled quietly in response.
"Tut-tut, five points for language," Draco murmured, tapping the badge on his chest tauntingly and finally facing the Gryffindor, setting down his book with an arched eyebrow.
Harry grit his teeth, rage surging to the surface as he balled his hands into fists. Trust Malfoy to be the only one not frightened by the fact that he was a werewolf, and to continue to treat him as if nothing had changed.
That meaning of course that he was still an incurable arsehole.
"I hate you," Harry muttered grumpily, crossing his arms over the desk and planting his chin on to them as he brushed off the urge to punch the git in the face.
Draco snorted in amusement in response as he finished the final stir of the potion. "Hand me a vial," he said impatiently.
Harry glared up at him and pointedly knocked one of the nearby vials off of the table with his elbow. "Whoops," he said shortly, straightening up to glare at the blond.
The Slytherin heaved an all-suffering sigh and flexed his jaw. "Really, Potter, don't be a child," he hissed.
"Me?" Harry shouted in response, drawing strange looks.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting class," Snape drawled from where he sat behind his desk. Harry didn't bother sparing him a look, instead shaking in rage as his glare toward the blond Slytherin beside him intensified.
Draco glared back for a moment before pausing, sucking on his teeth in frustration, then standing up and reaching over Harry. He snatched up one of the vials himself and waved his wand over the cauldron, summoning a bit of the potion into a vial then doing the same with another.
He tossed his extra vial toward Harry, who caught it from the air unthinkingly.
He hopped to his feet without waiting for a response from the startled Gryffindor, and handed his potion sample to Snape at the front of the class. Harry watched him in a puzzled way, glancing down at the perfectly brewed potion sample in his hand.
Draco didn't speak to him for the rest of the class period, instead reading over a book in his lap that Harry couldn't see the cover of. Harry watched him quietly, humming and tapping his fingers against the desk as he chewed the inside of his cheek in thought.
Draco Malfoy was confusing.
When class ended, Harry took his own potion sample to the front of the room, got points deducted from Snape for 'lazily mooching off of the hard work of his partner' and got a zero for the assignment. By the time he was free of the man's abuse, Draco had gathered up his things and vanished from the classroom.
"Harry, is something on your mind?" Hermione asked worriedly as Harry strolled into the deserted Gryffindor common room later that evening.
He shook his head at the witch, feeling the weight of the Wolfsbane pocket as if it were much heavier than it actually was. Have to take it tonight, he thought reluctantly. He couldn't help resenting the idea when the odds of the potion even making a difference were very slim.
The closeness of the full moon was taking affect now. Every muscle in his body twinged with movement, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he slid into his usual seat by the fire.
"I really wish you'd talk to us," Hermione said quietly. Harry lifted his head and frowned as he realized for the first time that Ron was there as well, standing stiffly by the fire.
Harry shrugged. "Nothing to talk about," he said shortly.
"You don't need to talk to her that way," Ron snapped.
Harry felt a wave of exhaustion and just shrugged, flicking his gaze to the fire and watching the sparks fly off of it, hitting the dust nearby. He reached up a hand, rubbing at a knot on his neck before sighing and letting it fall back to his side.
"Is that all you have to say?" Ron snarled angrily.
Harry heaved a sigh. "What do you want me to say?" he asked slowly, pulling his gaze from the fireplace and meeting the red-head's angry brown glare. "Because I'm not going to apologize for doing nothing," he said lowly.
"Nothing?" Ron asked incredulously. "Everyone knows by now you and - and - Malfoy are something. You could apologize for not giving us any sort of warning for that. And you're not - you're not yourself-"
"-What?" Harry cut him off, bloodshot eyes rounding in shock. "Malfoy? What are you talking about?"
"Ron," Hermione said sharply.
Ron threw his hands up. "I don't know, Harry, you tell me. Everyone in the bloody school's saying you two are-" his face curled in disgust, "-snogging, or something."
"You don't actually believe that," Harry deduced, watching his posture and the way his face twitched. He was saying it with the intent to upset Harry. If he had actually believed it, he would have been much more disgusted. "Where'd you hear it? The Parvarti twins? They think I have a pygmy puff tattoo on my arse, Ron, honestly," Harry added.
"No, I don't believe it," Ron backtracked, a look of relief washing over his features only to quickly be replaced by anger, "but I might have done. You never talk to us anymore Harry. I don't even know who you are," he snapped.
Harry felt a surge of unreasonable anger at his look of relief. Why did it matter so bloody much to Ron who he snogged? As if it were any of his business. "Maybe you would if you weren't such a coward," he said coolly, his head beginning to pulse with a migraine.
"What?" Ron asked in surprise, hands that had been clenched into fists falling slack at his side.
"You're terrified of me," Harry snarled, feeling a pang of sadness as he admitted it out loud. "Sorry if I don't want to be around someone who thinks I'm some sort of monster." He lurched to his feet as he finished his sentence to prove his point, watching the way the redhead jumped a step back and flinched.
Ron's face reddened in anger and Hermione flicked her gaze between the two in obvious helplessness. "I'm not scared of you," Ron snapped defiantly.
Harry laughed brokenly, the sound pounding in his own eardrums and making his head sting badly enough to nearly blind him. He fell back into his seat, rubbing at his temples. "Piss off, Ron," he said quietly after a beat of silence.
Ron snarled some curses that Harry couldn't make sense of as his headache rang in his ears, before walking off. Hermione jumped up after him but didn't follow as he stormed up into the dorm.
Harry groaned quietly, pinching his eyes closed and rubbing at them as he drew in shaky breaths. Nausea swam up toward the surface but he beat it down, taking slow, shaky breaths as anger began to push aside the pain. Hot, choking anger. He could taste blood as he bit down on his tongue and quickly stopped, blowing a breath out of his nostrils.
He shouldn't be this upset over something so little.
"Harry?" Hermione asked gently. He flicked open his green eyes, looking up to the witch who was standing near his chair now, eyebrows furrowed in concern as she extended a hand toward his shoulder. He flinched away from the touch, nodding.
"Sorry, Hermione," he offered woodenly as he got to his feet, stepping around her as his feelings from the conversation became less manageable. She didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his anger, and he knew that. "Night," he said monotonously.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but Harry didn't bother listening, instead darting off toward the exit of the common room. He couldn't go up to the dorm he shared with Ron - or he might throttle him.
The Fat Lady scolded his back as he took off down the hall.
He didn't realize he was making his way toward the dungeons near the Slytherin common room until he was in the cold hallway leading to it. He paused, tossing back his head and laughing at himself slightly.
"Yes, I'm sure Draco would just love it if you explained you just wanted to visit," he told himself with a sarcastic nod, leaning against the wall and sliding down it as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He shoved his hand into his robe pockets, pulling out the vial of Wolfsbane and downing the portion for that night.
His scar immediately seized in pain and he let out a yelp, clutching his forehead as his eyes watered from the stinging pain. His vial clattered to the ground so he blindly fumbled for it, popping the cap back on it and pushing it back into his pocket.
He held his head in both hands and pulled his knees up toward his chest, his breath catching as the pain in his forehead finally subsided, leaving only the aching of his muscles.
He was silently glad for the lack of windows on the lower floors.
"Potter?"
Harry jerked upright, green eyes bloodshot with purple bags that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere marring his features. He looked pale, his face drawn in stress as Draco observed him in silent surprise.
Harry laughed seemingly unconsciously at the sight of him, muttering something that sounded like "of course" as he pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the wall.
"'Lo," he croaked, waving at the blond Slytherin.
"What are you doing down here?" Draco asked slowly, feeling stirrings of concern as he took a step toward the Gryffindor.
"Looking for you," Harry blurted without seeming to think. "Didn't mean to, but, you know," he muttered, waving his hand as if saying 'these things happen'.
Draco paused at that, frowning and pushing his weight back on to his heels. "Do you need to see Madam Pompfrey?" he asked finally as he took another few steps toward the green-eyed werewolf, who looked to be almost swaying in place.
Harry shook his head. "Just need a new dorm to sleep in," he muttered tiredly, scrubbing his face with both hands. He turned around suddenly, as if just then realizing who he was talking to, and started off down the hall.
Draco huffed, jogging after him lightly. "Potter, hold on," he snapped. The Gryffindor froze in his steps, glancing back at him with a look of confused surprise. "Come on," Draco said impatiently, starting toward a nearby staircase.
Harry followed after him uncertainly, but didn't ask any questions until the two of them arrived at an empty wall on the fifth floor. Draco's eyes were pinched closed as if he were deep in thought and Harry frowned at him, sighing as he drew in the soothing smell of mint that seemed to follow the blond around.
Then, to Harry's utter shock, a door began to form before the Slytherin. Draco flicked open his grey eyes and stepped forward, turning the doorknob and nodding inside.
"Where's this?" Harry asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes as he approached the door. He flicked his gaze inside, seeing a four-poster bed not unlike his own, in Gryffindor colors, pushed up against a wall. A fireplace wasn't far, with a rug and sofa beside.
"It's called the Room of Requirement," Draco said impatiently. "I don't have time to explain this to you. You're welcome," he said dismissively, turning around and starting toward the staircase.
"Wait!" Harry called after him. "Why - did you help me?" he asked slowly.
Draco paused, turning to shoot him a glare. "Shut up," he suggested sharply, starting down the staircase.
Harry watched him go, jaw slightly slack before he stepped hesitantly into the room and glanced around. It was mostly bare, and he didn't like the rug.
As he thought that, he watched in awe as the rug popped from existence, replacing itself with a more simple, dark rug at the foot of the sofa.
"Room of Requirement," he mumbled out loud, glancing around himself as it all clicked into place. His brain gave up on comprehending it as a whole as he glanced over at the inviting bed, remembering why he was there in the first place as utter exhaustion tugged at his eyelids.
He dropped his bag on the floor, heading over to the four-poster bed and falling on to the soft mattress with a sigh. He rolled over, not bothering to climb under the blankets as he was almost immediately dragged into unconsciousness.