Returning

A silhouette moved through the trees of the forest as just another shadow. Only the faintest rustle of leaves sounded as the man passed under the massive oaks. The light of the waxing moon gradually grew brighter as the edge of the forest drew nearer. He stopped just inside the tree line. His sharp eyes traced the hills of the land stretching in front of him and were drawn inevitably to the majestic castle only a short distance away.

Candle light beckoned from the many windows, but he was not fooled by the welcoming sight. The fortress could become a prison faster than the blink of an eye. So much history here in this place; it loomed heavy, weighing him down. There was no choice, however. His child lay beyond those walls. He was not leaving again without him. Without further hesitation, he moved forward. He walked a path he'd walked a hundred times, but he was not that man. He'd become more – and less – than he once was, so it felt as if he were walking it for the first time.

The biggest difference, he suspected, was his lack of fear. He no longer cared how these people would receive him. He no longer worried about the danger he possibly presented to those weaker than himself. He'd finally made peace with who he was and with that peace had come a new resolve. He would no longer limit himself or deny himself for the sake of others. If they felt threatened, then it was their responsibility to protect themselves, not his. He was only obligated to protect his own.

The new Headmistress stood in the entrance hall. Her regal blue robes draped elegantly over her ruler-straight posture. Sharp hazel eyes caught his own, a steely threat clear in their depths. Her wand was in her hand but not yet raised. He supposed that was the best greeting he could expect when he'd arrived unannounced.

"Minerva," he greeted, his voice quiet and hoarse. He very deliberately made no threatening moves. Not yet. Not until he got what he came for. He couldn't allow them a chance to deny him access to the child he'd vowed to protect.

Her brow furrowed in clear confusion. "Who…?"

He flashed a grin that would have been right at home on Sirius. The thought of his pack-mate still brought pain, but it no longer debilitated him. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he still had things to protect. "Has it really been so long? It feels like yesterday that we were arguing with the old crowd about the next great adventure."

"Remus?" she gasped. Her wand lowered as her shock scented the air. "Remus Lupin?"

"I was born with that name, yes." His grin melted, revealing an intent expression he didn't try to mask. "I came to see him."

"What happened to you?" she demanded, not moving from her position.

"I did some soul searching," Remus answered truthfully. "I decided to stop fighting who I am. It was exhausting and futile. It earned me nothing but grief and loss."

"By Merlin…" She raked him with her eyes, feet to head.

"Minerva," he said again, warning and request all in one. "I want to see him."

She stared a moment longer before slowly inclining her head. "Very well. Do you know what happened?"

"Just what's in the papers," he answered, following her closely. He didn't mention the shocking letter his cub had sent him utilizing Dark magic. No one ever need know about that.

"They are fairly accurate this time," she admitted with a sigh. "Times are precarious. The people are not coping well with these devastating Muggle attacks."

Remus didn't care about that. He no longer cared about anything he couldn't control. All that mattered was what he claimed as his. He would do all in his power to ensure everything of his was protected. Especially his cub. "How is he?"

"It's been touch and go for a long time." Minerva's pace slowed, her thoughts drawn inward. "We've had a few scares, but he's pulled through. He's stable now. He even regained consciousness briefly two days ago. The healers expect him to wake up again any time now."

"Will he make a full recovery?"

She shook her head. "I do not know. I don't expect so, but Harry has done impossible things before."

Remus kept the dangerous growl that wanted to escape his throat tightly in check. Now was not the time to draw suspicion his way.

He could smell the Infirmary long before they reached the correct corridor. The scent of medications, potions, and magic stung his nose. Under that, though, he could scent pain and weakness, fear and despair. Some of it was residue left by those who'd sat vigil, but most was from Harry.

Once, when his friends had needed him, he'd run, unable to face the persecution and self-hatred. They had just graduated and the war was in full swing. The werewolves had sided with the Dark Lord, and even the Order members had watched him warily, convinced he'd turn on them at any time. Half his pack had been wiped out in his absence, leaving only one sibling and cub behind. But he'd believed the lies about Sirius' betrayal, which had left him with only a cub that he was forbidden to see or raise.

Not that Remus had fought very hard to keep Harry. He'd been so afraid of himself back then, afraid of what he'd do to an innocent child. He'd fallen into grief, consumed with his loss. He never even tried to imagine what Harry's life would be like without anyone there who loved him.

When he'd finally looked beyond himself and returned, Harry had been a teenager who didn't trust easily. Remus had almost been too late to bridge that gap between them. And then Sirius had come back into both their lives. It had been overwhelming. Remus' grief and self-hatred had sunk deeper as he realized just how badly he'd failed his pack-mate. Before he could really get a handle on anything, Sirius had died, gone for good this time, and the agony had been more than he could bear.

He'd planned to run away again. He'd gone to see Harry last summer to say goodbye and apologize for all the wrongs he'd done him, but his cub had stripped Remus bare with his tongue. He'd accused him justly of weakness, selfishness, and cowardice. Remus had come face to face with himself that day. He realized it wasn't the wolf half that deserved hatred. It was his human half. He'd been running for all the wrong reasons.

Remus would have killed himself after their conversation. All his life was a sham, an utter waste, all his family gone. Then Harry had charged him to finally conquer himself and to come back useful for once.

He'd done exactly that, but again he returned nearly too late. Harry had been suffering here, bearing everything put on his shoulders alone. He'd almost died. Struck down like an animal to be put down. Because of politics and human fear. Remus would not allow it. He would not lose the last of his pack. He would not fail at the most important task James, Sirius, and Lily had entrusted him with.

The door swung open and instantly his eyes fastened on the teen lying limp in the bed. Minerva was saying something, but he had no idea what. All his attention was on his cub. The smell here was stronger. His mouth fell open as he struggled to breathe. The air was thick, heavy with sickness and pain. His cub… If he'd been in wolf form, his hackles would have raised. He walked stiffly forward until he could touch the cool, pale skin of Harry's arm.

"I'm here," he rasped. Remus bent down and pressed his nose into the teen's hair above his ear. The scent of pack, the feeling of home, assailed his senses. "Harry, I'm here, cub. You're safe now."

Thick black lashes fluttered. Remus tensed, eyes wide and unblinking, willing his cub to wake. Harry's head rolled toward him, his expression creasing in pain. It killed Remus to see it, to smell it. He wanted to press all the pain out of the teen and make sure he never felt like this again. He stroked a hand through the boy's greasy hair and murmured reassuringly into the teen's ear. A flash of green, gone and slowly back again. Harry's pupils were large and contracted lazily, indicating he was drugged.

"Moo…"

"I'm here, Harry, and I'm not leaving again unless I can help it," Remus assured him. He raked his cheek along Harry's. "I got your letter. Of course I don't hate you. I'm perfectly fine."

"Moony…" Harry got the word out this time. He sounded dazed and confused.

Remus growled. The urge to tear someone limb from limb was strong, but he couldn't leave Harry's side, not when he was so vulnerable. He sensed Minerva's approach and whipped around, teeth bared in a low snarl. He didn't feel any regret when she froze, fear coming off her in waves. All he cared about was that she stopped coming closer and that her wand didn't rise.

"Remus!" she scolded.

He glared her into silence, unmasking the wolf lurking behind his gaze. He was a predator, always had been. Nothing could change that. Instead, he was going to utilize it. Her shocked expression became shuttered, closing off into a blank mask.

"Moony… sorry… sorry, Moony…" Harry babbled weakly.

The tang of salt hit the air, and Remus spun to nuzzle his cub's cheek, erasing his tears. "Hush, Harry. It's okay. I love you. You're going to be just fine."

Harry continued to cry weakly until he fell back into sleep.

Two healers entered the room behind Minerva. Remus wanted to bite them and snatch Harry away to a dark, hidden place to recover. He forced those instincts down. He understood that Harry's condition was fragile and dependant on the medical attention of these people. He stepped back, but kept within striking distance of the strangers as they ran their checks and cast him side-long glances. Minerva didn't suggest he leave as they worked, smart woman. When the healers finished, Minerva asked to speak to them. They left reluctantly, following her to the medical office.

Remus ignored all of this. He didn't care what she told them. He wasn't leaving Harry's side no matter what anyone said. And if they tried to force him, he wouldn't go quietly, be damn the consequences. He was going to fight for his family this time. He wasn't going to run or hold back. He'd broken free at last, and he was going to be sure Harry had the chance to do the same.

xXxXxXx

Severus sat at his kitchen table, staring blankly down at the letter lying open before him. When the knock sounded at the door, he had no idea if he'd been sitting there for minutes or hours. Blinking dry eyes, he quickly snatched the parchment from the table and hid it in his robes. A second knock sounded when he was halfway across the sitting room. He scowled, annoyed, and swung the door open quickly. The Weasley boy stood there, looking pathetic. His red bangs hung in his tired eyes and his face was paler than usual.

Severus immediately glared and crossed his arms. "Potter?"

"Fine as far as I know," Weasley assured him. "Can I come in?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow, but after a moment's consideration, he stepped aside.

"Thanks."

Weasley went to his couch and sat heavily. Severus followed him and stood a bit awkwardly next to the sitting chair across from his uninvited guest. He was aware the redhead was Harry's friend, and Severus once had dinner with Weasley and Longbottom, but they were not nearly familiar enough to warrant the redhead's visit under social pretenses.

"What's this about?" he asked. Had Weasley been a Slytherin, Severus would've gone about things more subtly, but you got better results being blunt with Gryffindors.

Weasley smiled wanly and ran a hand through his limp hair. "As you know, they're only offering training to the seventh years and those sixth years who are of age or have parental permission. So the younger years have continued the DA. Susan Bones and my sister are leading it."

"Fascinating," Severus drawled with heavy sarcasm.

"Look, don't be such a git, Snape," Weasley snapped, his temper flaring. "I'm asking you for help."

"Didn't sound that way to me." Severus glared at him impatiently.

"I was just giving you background information."

"Why don't you get to the pertinent facts."

Weasley got to his feet, scowling. "My sister got hit with a combination of spells. Her shield didn't block all of it and some got through. They don't want to go to Pomfrey because they're afraid McGonagall will disband the club. You're pretty handy with those potions, and I was hoping you could help."

Severus considered him for a moment. In the end he decided to answer truthfully. "Here's the thing, Weasley. Let's say I can help your sister. If I do so and refrain from informing the Headmistress, there's the chance that she or someone else will get hurt again in the future. Likely I will not be available to help. Maybe the injuries would be serious enough to cause permanent damage or even death. That would be on me. And I don't particularly care about them enough to take on that responsibility."

He expected the Gryffindor to explode. Instead, the redhead sighed, gaze cast downwards.

"I can understand that," Weasley said. "The thing is, you're right. But… But they're right, too. They have the right to learn to defend themselves. We're at war. The enemy has proven they don't discriminate. Man, woman, or child, if you're magical, you're a target. What happens when they go home for the holidays or the summer? What if their towns get attacked? What if they die because the adults didn't allow them to practice? That would be on you, too, wouldn't it?"

Severus was taken aback at this logical argument. Surprisingly level blue eyes lifted and held his gaze.

"True, but I'm not convinced what they learn in the DA would give them any better chance for survival," Severus finally responded. "The null-effect would render them magicless. They should practice how to survive without spells and dueling."

Weasley nodded. "I agree. I've told Ginny that I'd only help her if she agreed to my terms. I'll draw up a list of things they can practice that will actually help them."

"Then it should be okay to go to the Headmistress. If we explained all this, then surely she wouldn't disband the DA."

"No. She needs plausible deniability." Weasley grimaced. "A lot of the parents don't want their kids to worry about this stuff, and the media is already accusing McGonagall of turning Hogwarts into a soldier factory."

Severus still hesitated.

"Look, whatever happens, if someone does get hurt, it'll be on me, okay? Not you. It's not your fault whatever happens, because I'm taking that responsibility. You're just doing me a favor. It has nothing to do with the DA."

"Fine." Severus rubbed at his forehead. "Where is she?"

"I'll bring her to the room in half an hour," Weasley answered with a wide grin. "Thanks, Snape."

"Don't thank me," he warned darkly. "You owe me."

Weasley still smiled. "Yeah. I can live with that."

Once the redhead was out of his rooms, Severus returned to the table with a quill. He set the letter down and began to compose his answer. He wasn't at all comfortable with reporting to the Dark Lord, but refusing Voldemort's demand would only be tipping his hand. In the Shrieking Shack, he'd been charged with spying here in Hogwarts and he'd agreed. The information he desired on Draco Malfoy, Voldemort could get from any number of Death Eater children within the school, so Severus gained nothing by refusing. Capitulating, at least for now, allowed him to remain in a position to possibly assist Harry should he need it.

xXxXxXx

Pain was set in every bone, was within every breath. It throbbed and stabbed through every muscle. Harry closed his eyes tight against it. The cottony feel of his thoughts indicated he was medicated, but it only loosened the agony's hold. It didn't erase it completely. Suddenly a new sensation was added to the cacophony. Gentle fingers ran through his hair. Nails scratched softly as his scalp. A hand rubbed soothingly down his arm.

Tearing up, Harry blinked his eyes open, desperate to know who was the source of this unexpected kindness. Light blinded him, made him wince and close his eyes again, but a soft, hoarse voice encouraged him to try again. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he obeyed. The bright light was dimmer. It still made his head throb, but he could see without too much pain.

Someone was leaning over him, close to his face. It was the only way Harry could have made out any features, as near-sighted as he was. Gold-flecked amber eyes, a familiar face with scars across the narrow nose and cheek. Tawny blonde hair. Harry's chest gave sharp pangs of pain as it tightened with emotion. His body went rigid, back bowing slightly in agony.

"Cub, shhh, don't strain yourself. Relax. I'm not going anywhere. Shhh, that's it. Easy now."

Harry held that beloved gaze as he carefully breathed in and out. Slowly the pain went down to more manageable levels. "Rem…"

A familiar smile softened the man's mouth. "Hey, Harry. I got your letter."

Harry just stared up at him, dazed. This was Remus, but it wasn't. The hesitant, gentle air was gone. There was something wise and primal about Remus now. There was love in his gaze, but also a hard determination Harry had never seen there before. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, cub. Don't worry about me." Remus bent forward, breaking their eye contact, to rub their cheeks together.

Harry's eyes teared up again. He still hungered for affection, for family. He'd had tastes of it, but never for very long. He was so desperate not to lose it again. "Please… don't leave me… I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I'm the one sorry for not being around. I swear I won't leave you again. I'm not the same weak man I once was. I've left all that behind me. We're going to start over, and this time I'm going to get it right."

"Remus?" Harry wasn't sure that was a good thing, but his eyes felt so heavy. He didn't have the strength to ask questions.

"Sleep, Harry. I'll be here when you wake again."

That soothing hand ran through his hair again, and Harry gave a shallow sigh as sleep dragged him under once more.

xXxXxXx

Draco stepped into the Headmistress' office with a distant expression on his face. His grey eyes swept the room with indifference before settling on McGonagall. The elderly witch stood in front of her desk, hair in a stern bun. New lines of stress creased her face around her eyes and mouth, but she seemed as strong as ever.

"Thank you for coming so promptly, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sorry to inform you there have been complications with your mother. Your father has requested that you come home for the night."

Draco nodded to show he understood. "May I use your floo?"

"Certainly." She gestured at her fireplace. "Tell your mother I wish her the best. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you." Draco let his mask slip enough to give her a genuine smile.

Without further delay, he stepped into the hearth and called out his destination and password. He twirled through the floo network for less than three minutes before he was pushed firmly through the fireplace in the receiving room at his manor.

Lucius was waiting and stood up from the chair by the door, setting a book aside. "Draco, my son."

Draco stepped forward into a welcoming embrace. "Father. How is mother?"

"Well enough." His father stared down at him, expression closed off. "I had need of you for other reasons. Go say hello before we talk. I'll be in my office."

Draco nodded, carefully keeping his curiosity from his expression. The manor was quiet. It always had been. The lack of noise comforted him. He remembered being overwhelmed when he first arrived at Hogwarts. The crowded corridors, the constant buzz of sound, it'd been impossible to focus.

He passed an elf guarding his mother's bedchamber. The creature bowed low, murmuring a greeting. He ignored it and stepped further into the darkened room. His mother lay in a massive four-poster bed. Her waist-length, long blonde hair was fanned out around her. It shinned in the low light, having recently been washed and brushed. Her belly was visibly swollen now that she was four months pregnant, but the rest of her features were the same as always. Her whole face lit up upon seeing him.

"Dragon! What are you doing here?"

"I missed you and wanted to be sure you were all right." Draco bent over her to kiss her cheek. She smelled of jasmine. He felt his stiff reserve fall away as he relaxed in her presence. He was home at last. "How are you?"

"I am well, Draco. There's no need to fuss. I have the best healers looking after me." She smoothed his hair lovingly from his face. "Tell me, how is school? Is training very difficult?"

"It is, but I enjoy the challenge. It keeps me busy." He shot her a rueful smile, knowing she'd understand.

His mother patted the bed, and he eagerly sat next to her. "Oh! They're moving. Feel."

Draco was still not happy about his future siblings, so he only reluctantly let her take his hand and place it on her swollen flesh. He felt a thump under his palm. There were two beings moving inside his mother. Draco expected to feel disgusted, but he felt intrigued instead. He looked up to see his mother was watching him closely.

"I know you are of an age to find all this bothersome. You have no need for siblings. The many years separating you will never allow you to be friends, but…" Here she looked away, down at their clasped hands over her belly. "I have hope that you will share a bond, nonetheless."

"Do you know what they are?"

She looked up at that, a beautiful smile slowly taking over her expression once more. "Boys. You will have two little brothers soon. Now there will be three sons to carry on the Malfoy name. Our family will be that much further from possible extinction."

Draco felt a sense of wonder and relief. As selfish as he knew he was, he was concerned about their being only three Malfoy's in existence. The Blacks had died out with Sirius' death. The Potter line almost disappeared with Harry's death. He didn't want the same for his family. Boys. Brothers. He shook his head with a smile. "I will have to teach them Quidditch."

His mother laughed. "Oh, Dragon. You will always be my darling."

He squeezed her hand and stood, kissing her cheek one last time. "Sleep well, Mother. I'll see you soon."

"Be well, Draco," she bade him as he slipped quietly out of her sick room.

Draco walked through the halls with a lightened heart. Brothers, huh? Maybe having siblings wouldn't be too terrible, after all. Still smiling slightly, he knocked once before entering his father's study. Lucius stood at the single large window, looking out over the north gardens. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck and fell down between his shoulder blades. The pale color was striking against the black of his robes.

Lucius turned and acknowledged Draco's presence with a nod. "How is your mother?"

"Have you not visited her?" Draco asked with a frown.

"I have." Lucius turned back to the window. "We do not talk much, however."

Draco considered the man before him. Lucius had gone through so many transformations in recent years. There was the doting father Draco knew as a child, the often distant and coldly angry man during his early Hogwarts years, and finally the man he was now. He was a man broken due to his slavery under the Dark Lord, and it saddened Draco terribly.

"The Dark Lord has requested an audience with you. Are you willing to go?"

Draco glared dangerously. "I will not be a Death Eater."

"No. It is something else. A task he'd have you perform as a free agent."

"Look at me," Draco demanded, voice low.

Lucius turned to face him. His expression was utterly blank.

"Would you have me go?" Draco asked, watching his eyes carefully.

"It is your choice, Draco. I feel you would want to accept the Dark Lord's request, but I have no idea where it would lead you."

He saw no struggle in his father's eyes. Extending his senses, he didn't sense the Imperio. His father seemed genuine. "What does he want?"

"I'm forbidden to say. You must choose to come and hear my Lord for yourself, or you can choose to go back to Hogwarts and another will be given this opportunity."

Draco weighed his options. "And if I don't accept this task once I've heard it?"

"You may go back to Hogwarts freely." Lucius placed a hand over his heart. "I have no care for many things anymore, but I do care for your safety. I would not be willing to carry this message if I thought it were to lead you into a trap. You honestly have two choices. The first on whether to come. The second on whether to accept the task."

"I'll come," Draco decided. He was a Slytherin. A Slytherin took advantage of the opportunities before them and never turned down information.

Lucius inclined his head. "Take my hand. I will Apparate us."

Draco didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the modest manor in front of him. It was two-stories and sat upon a small hill. A woods lay to the right, the trees of average height and not magical in the slightest. He looked behind them to where a small town lay twinkling in the distance. A Muggle town. He shot his father a questioning glance, but Lucius wasn't paying attention. He was approaching the manor, his stride smooth and unhesitant. With a sigh, Draco followed.

The interior of the manor was slightly more impressive, but it was still less than Malfoy Manor. He supposed that was to be expected. The Dark Lord had only been around for sixty years or so and the Malfoy family had been around for many centuries.

Together, they traversed a long corridor together, at the end of which stood two large wooden doors. These swung open silently before they could be touched and revealed a throne room beyond. Now Draco was impressed.

The room was crafted to perfection. The lighting was dark, but not enough to have you tripping. The high ceiling made one feel insignificant as he approached the raised dais that sat a simple yet regal throne. The Dark Lord sat there, red eyes watching their approach the way a predator would study prey. Voldemort's dark hair blended in with the shadows of the room, and his long nails tapped out an eerie beat on the ornate armrests.

"Young Malfoy. Welcome."

Draco came to a stop five feet from the stage and gave a deep bow. "Thank you, Lord Voldemort. I am honored to be here."

"Rise. I have something to discuss with you."

Draco straightened and stared into red. "I am all ears, Lord."

The thin mouth gave birth to a sinister smile. "I would offer you specialized training every week night instead of what is offered at your school. It would make you dangerous and powerful, a warrior beyond what they would teach you." The Dark Lord's voice was silk-smooth with promise. "You will still be free to participate in the extensive training undergone during weekends with your fellow peers."

"And the price of this generous offer?" Draco asked carefully. He wasn't stupid in the least.

"I want you to sign a contract with me to become Harry Potter's bodyguard."

Draco's eyes widened despite his control.

Voldemort's smile grew, revealing sharp teeth. "I'm aware you've had… difficulties in the past regarding the Boy Hero. However, such difficulties might make you better suited to this task than any other. You would be less likely to fall under the sway of the little Lord, having been burned by him once. You are wise to his tricks. Also, Potter's enemies will underestimate you. You can be with Harry at all times where an adult would be unwelcome."

Draco swallowed hard, his mind racing. The idea of being given an official position in Harry's life was tempting. It would allow him closer to his obsession… but was that really what he wanted? He'd made the decision to break free of Harry's influence. To try and get past their history together. But maybe this would be even better. He'd prove to be Harry's equal. He'd carve out a relationship with Harry on his terms this time.

"And if he rejects me?" he demanded coolly.

Voldemort laughed. The sound made shivers go down Draco's back. "Potter will not refuse. Your position will be assured, do not fret."

Draco frowned. "Will I be expected to report back to you or to take the Dark Mark?"

"No." Voldemort lifted an arm and rested his chin on his fist. "I have no need for that. Consider yourself providing a service. I am hiring you. In exchange, I will personally teach you every week night for six months. Is that acceptable?"

Draco held the Dark Lord's gaze. He knew he wasn't near clever enough to outsmart this man, and he wasn't near strong enough to overpower him. By getting involved, he was leaving himself vulnerable, but he was also opening himself to opportunities he'd find nowhere else. Just as his father had promised, Draco had a choice. He gave a sharp smile of his own and chose his fate.

"I accept."

Voldemort gave another toothy smile. "Excellent."

Chapter end.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I felt you'd appreciate something better than nothing. I'm currently working through outlining this story. The long delays between chapters will probably continue until that's done. I hope you can bear with me!