Title: The Secret's In The Telling
Authoress: Sakuri
Rating: T
Summary: Draco Malfoy, pureblood and Slytherin prince, suffers the unthinkable when he is attacked and bitten by Remus Lupin. How is he supposed to live any kind of life afterwards, especially when Potter continues to stick his unwanted nose into things? HPDM, SSRL
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one
Chapter 37: Making Progress
xxx
The air was thick with curses. Ginny ducked a stray Body-Bind and darted past Zacharias Smith, who was facing off against Terry Boot. Her own pursuer, Hannah Abbott, fired off a series of hexes that went wide, some of them hitting a few other unfortunate members of the DA. Parvatti, struck from behind, went rigid and fell backwards, making Ginny swerve around her as she ran on.
The Room of Requirement was a battlefield. No longer were they split into sparring partners, with Harry and Malfoy wandering the room calmly, giving advice or criticism. Instead, the entire room was involved in a mass duel. Split roughly into halves at the beginning of the session as if they were opposing sides in a real battle, the group had been instructed to improvise and then left to their own devices. Though Harry was still present, even participating with them, he'd fallen back from his role as teacher. So had his Slytherin counterpart, for that matter, both of them eagerly taking part in the miniature war they'd created.
She watched them when she could afford to, fascinated by the sudden change of chemistry between the two. Accustomed to watching the pair face off against each other, it was strange to suddenly see them work together.
She glanced over just as Hermione, who had been sorted onto the 'opposite' team, sent a jinx at Harry from behind. Smoothly, without breaking either of their rhythms, Malfoy pulled the other boy out of the way and sent a flurry of spells back at the witch that made her retreat almost instantly. In return, Harry cast a shield charm around the blonde that deflected the attack Ron threw at him, taking advantage of the distraction Hermione caused.
Ginny shook her head in amazement. Not so long ago, she would have said they couldn't have stayed in the same room together; now she could only marvel at how well they worked as a team. It was uncanny. And, more than anything, a reminder of why, exactly, these two were qualified to teach them. Merely watching them made her feel a rush of exhilaration, and she turned with a wild grin and found herself caught up in a duel with Susan Bones.
Draco cast a glance over the students surrounding him. He found himself checking on their progress, their actions, trying to gage which 'side' of their staged battle was coming out on top. Ginny Weasley was vicious, he noted, with something verging on approval. More skilled than her brother – but then, he may have been a little biased. He and Granger hovered nearby, picking off individuals around them. Granger constantly shot glances at himself and Harry, trying to figure out a way past their joint defences. Impossible, Draco thought arrogantly, but knew it to be true. He pressed his back to the Gryffindor's and sent a hex at Longbottom, purely to frighten him.
Scanning the chaos around him, it occurred to him that he was feeling oddly satisfied upon noticing a few of the spells he'd introduced to the students being used. As unnerving as it was, he felt a little thrum of pleasure at realising he'd actually taught something successfully.
He watched Michael Corner attempt to dart away from his opponent, only to find himself defenceless, and was promptly struck down by two other curses. Rolling his eyes, Draco called out short-temperedly, "Find a partner, for God's sake!" One could only triumph in a battle like this with an ally.
Anyone within earshot glanced at him fleetingly, and he was almost surprised to see them obey, pairing off automatically.
Harry chuckled near his ear, even as he fended off a quick series of assaults. "You're starting to enjoy this," he accused in a whisper, breath warm on the back of Draco's neck.
The Slytherin curled a lip, casting a disgusted glance over his shoulder at the Gryffindor. "I most certainly am not," he denied heatedly. "I can assure you it's as much of a chore as ever!"
"Yeah, okay," was the amused dismissal.
Draco shook his head in exasperation. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to deliver some sarcastic retort, as Granger chose that moment to renew her attack. She only wanted to beat them because of her constant urge to be the best. Well, Draco could understand that. Trouble was, 'best' was his position.
He turned on her, responding to the challenge she'd extended, and they went about proving who, exactly, deserved the title of most talented in their year.
xxx
Severus wondered if these sessions would come to an end anytime soon, or ever. He'd thought that, once the construction of the Occlumency webs was done, his association with the werewolf would be over and done with, except, perhaps, for the occasional consult.
However, it had been during their last meeting that a small worrying thought had occurred to the Potions Master. Investigating it, he'd unfortunately been proven right.
They'd always known that what they were doing was still supposed to remain in the theoretical stages. This was unpractised magic, with none of the kinks and problems worked out. It seemed Severus had just encountered one of said problems.
The webs had been built with magic that was alien to Lupin. It wasn't a part of him, as his own magic was – and as a result, all that effort was unravelling. Literally.
Thankfully, it wasn't a fast process. Where the first strands of Occlumency had been put in place, entangled with the golden threads of thought, they were beginning to fade. And if they were allowed to disappear altogether, the entire web would rip itself apart. But considering he'd created the defences months ago, Severus considered they'd held out well enough – surely a testament to his skills.
No, it wasn't going to be a massive dilemma if the decaying period remained the same. It just meant he'd constantly have to monitor the other's mind and make sure all repairs were thorough.
Which meant yet more irritating encounters with Lupin.
Irritating, because Severus had noticed they'd actually developed a routine somewhere along the way¸ and it disturbed him greatly.
That afternoon, he'd pushed the table away to one side of the room, clearing them a space between the two chairs near the fire. At the foot of these chairs, he'd placed cushions on the floor, careful that they be the usual distance apart. Then – which, in retrospect, was the part that really distressed him – he'd taken out the half empty bottle of brandy at the far back of his cupboards and, unthinking of his actions, left it alongside two small glasses on the table. He'd remembered the werewolf was normally shaken after Legilimency sessions, and the alcohol tended to steady the nerves.
What bothered him was that it was... well, it had been a considerate gesture. Since when did he care if Lupin had the shakes for a half hour or so? It wasn't a problem. It wouldn't affect the webs.
And so, it was a very distracted Severus Snape who drifted through Remus's mind, touching on strands of thought and Occlumency, tying them back together where necessary, predicting how much longer some of them would last, and casting only cursory glances over the memories that flashed up in front of him. He had, he decided, let himself get entirely too caught up in the werewolf's existence. It was the Legilimency, he was convinced. They were sharing thoughts through it, sharing secrets, emotions. He was learning far too much about the other man, learning... empathy. Oh, how he hated that word.
It had to stop.
Annoyed with himself, he pulled back, releasing Lupin from the spell and rising quickly to his feet. "The web is fixed. It should last for another week, at least," he said briskly, turning his back.
Remus watched him curiously as he waited to regain his equilibrium. It hadn't escaped his notice that, for once, Severus had afforded him some privacy, barely flicking through his memories as though disinterested. He wondered if the novelty had worn off, or if there was some other reason for the sudden disassociation.
He remained quiet as the Potions Master seemed to hesitate where he stood, then finally moved away a little and picked up a bottle of amber liquid, pouring a small amount into one of the two glasses at hand. Efficiently, he took it and strode across to where Remus still sat on the floor, holding it out to him without expression.
The werewolf raised an eyebrow in surprise, shocked into not responding.
Severus frowned impatiently. "Well? It isn't poison, I assure you," he drawled. "And do get up, for God's sake."
Automatically, Remus levered himself awkwardly into the chair. Oh, but he wasn't a young man anymore, and sitting cross-legged for such long periods of time was playing havoc on his joints. Wincing, he took the proffered glass, but simply held it, feeling oddly self-conscious.
Rather than drink, he began to talk, a habit when he was nervous or uncomfortable. "I notice you didn't pry anything from me this time. Growing bored with my memories, Severus?"
Dark eyes regarded him steadily, coldly. "Not quite," he murmured eventually, withdrawing to his own chair, where he regarded the werewolf with the same emotionless stare. "I simply find that I'm... beginning to know you too well for my own comfort."
Remus blinked. Well. He certainly hadn't expected that level of honesty from his companion. A sense of intrigue instantly rose inside him, and he leaned forward, mouth open to ask some unformed question. Just in time, some inner voice of caution warned him not to push. Severus would clamp up and order him from the room in a second if he began to feel awkward.
Instead, he decided to swerve the conversation in a different direction, hopefully one that would keep the other man's interest.
"Would you ever trust someone being inside your mind?" Remus asked at length, as if it was a matter of casual conversation. "The same way I let you inside mine?"
The Potions Master snorted and answered immediately, "No."
"Hardly surprising," the werewolf teased, watching the light swirl and flash in the depths of his drink. "Unfair, though," he commented.
"How?" Severus found himself demanding, a little incredulously.
Remus shrugged. "Well, you have unrestricted access to all my secrets –"
"That you insisted on. You'll recall I wanted nothing to do with the idea –"
"Yes, I remember something of the sort, Severus. My only point is that... Oh, never mind." He made a show of lowering his eyes and taking a sip of what turned out to be brandy.
Severus sneered ever so slightly. "You wouldn't want to access my secrets, Lupin."
The werewolf looked up innocently, but remained silent.
The lack of response, which he interpreted as scepticism, prompted the Potions Master to continue snidely. "They would shock your delicate Gryffindor sensibilities, I'm sure. And I guarantee your misguided... attraction would come to an abrupt end." He paused, then smirked unpleasantly. "On that note, I'm almost tempted to tell you..."
It surprised and unnerved him to receive a smirk in return. The expression didn't quite sit right on Lupin's face.
"You say that as if I'd never known you, Severus," the werewolf said wryly. "I'm well aware of the type of things you've done in the past. My delicate sensibilities aren't quite as horror-stricken as you seem to expect."
The Potion Master's lip curled. "Then you're more deluded than I thought. What, exactly, do you see me as?"
"Now there's a question..." Remus murmured to himself, shaking his head a little. He considered, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at the Potions Master. "...I know, to some extent, what you're capable of. You were a Death Eater – willingly so, in the beginning. I could only guess at the crimes you've committed in your time, Severus, but I fear none of them would surprise me... What I see now is that you're no longer that person."
The man glared back, stubborn. "And you'd know," he muttered snidely.
"Some observations don't require Legilimency," the werewolf replied simply. "I know perfectly well who and what you are – and you might note my 'misguided attraction' lives on."
Severus scowled, thoroughly taken aback. He watched Lupin down the remainder of his drink and rise to his feet, visibly steadier than usual. He also looked oddly satisfied – almost triumphant – leaving the Potions Master with the confused sense that he'd just been one-upped in whatever private, unspoken competition now seemed to exist between them.
xxx
Harry was used to walking back with the Slytherin after DA meetings. Even if he only stopped at the other's room for a few moments, just to listen to Draco's short-tempered commentary on the events of the lesson, before returning to his own dormitory, it was just habit to split from the rest of the group and follow the blonde towards the door.
So when Ron stopped him with a pointed look, Hermione tactfully fading into the background, he hesitated awkwardly. Draco turned when he noticed his companion had paused, and quickly saw the predicament. Automatically, he narrowed his eyes at the redhead, willing him to go away. Permanently.
Harry cast him a pleading glance, and Draco gave a long-suffering sigh. Bloody Gryffindors. Entirely too forgiving, the lot of them. If anyone had treated him the way Weasley had Harry, he'd probably still be planning their downfall, if not enacting it already. Certainly not entertaining the notion of forgiveness.
With a final vicious look for the redhead, he turned on his heel and quit the room in high dudgeon. Harry let him go, knowing full well he was in for a few days of sulking from the blonde.
Ron looked vaguely perplexed. "Demanding little git, isn't he?" he muttered.
"You have no idea..."
His friend gave him a vaguely disgusted look, obviously wondering – for the hundredth time – what Harry saw in the Slytherin.
As the majority of the DA dissipated, they trailed behind, Ron with his hands stuffed self-consciously into his pockets, Harry waiting calmly for the oncoming conversation.
"So..." the redheaded wizard said at length.
Harry fought back a smile, but stayed quiet.
Ron darted a look at him, visibly embarrassed. "...We okay?"
"Not up to me, is it?" Harry responded neutrally.
"Yeah, well..." Ron sighed heavily. "Look. You could spend hours trying to explain to me why and how you've lost the urge to hex Malfoy between the eyes, and I still wouldn't understand. But... I'm sick of not talking to you."
Green eyes passed fleetingly over him, guarded. In silence, they continued up the staircase that led towards the tower.
Eventually, Ron mumbled quietly, "M'sorry for hitting you, by the way. And trying to... y'know –"
"Curse me?" Harry finished for him, still hiding his amusement. When the redhead flushed guiltily, he allowed himself a small smile. "Yeah, alright. No harm done, I guess."
"To you. Merlin, whatever Malfoy hit me with gave me a hangover for three days!" He sighed and shook his head. "Never thought I'd see the day when he defended you."
Harry looked at him. "I could have told you he'd changed, you know, if you'd listened..."
"Hermione said something like that... Can we not talk about him anymore?" Ron asked pleadingly. "Fine, the bastard's reformed, but he's still a bastard."
Harry consented with a shrug, leaving Ron to fill the awkward wordlessness.
"My God, the girls haven't shut up about you since that Seeker's game, y'know." He snorted, and burst into a high-pitched impression. "'Oh, Harry's soooo cool.' Honestly, mate, it's getting seriously annoying."
Harry chuckled, but otherwise seemed to take no notice of a tidbit of information that the redhead considered valuable indeed.
He stared at the other boy sceptically. "What, you're not interested? You sure you're not seeing someone you haven't told me about?"
Harry smiled serenely. "Ron, I can honestly promise you that I do not have a girlfriend."
xxx
Severus was just preparing for bed that night when the pain struck him. He clasped his arm in shock, dropping the glass of water he'd been holding at the time. His first thought, borne of habit, was of how long it would take him to get dressed and Floo to Hogsmeade, where he could then Apparate to the meeting spot.
But no. That was no longer his job, was it?
Gritting his teeth, he lowered himself into the chair by the fire, where he'd sat with Lupin that evening, and forced himself to ignore the call blazing through his Mark and resist the urge to go find the werewolf. Lupin wouldn't need to be warned or prepared. He'd feel the same call right now, and would probably be hurrying to bid a quick farewell to Potter – how annoyingly sentimental, Severus had thought ever since the other man had informed him of the promise he'd made the boy. This was why Gryffindor shouldn't be employed in this kind of work. They wasted time with emotion.
Sighing, he clenched his fingers, watching tendons move along his forearm, beneath the burning tattoo.
In a moment, he would firecall Dumbledore and inform the old man that Lupin would be absent from classes tomorrow in the aftermath of a Death Eater meeting. In a moment...
He just had to calm himself first.