Chapter 19
Scent
Draco abandoned Crabbe and Goyle in favour of accompanying Blaise to the Medical Wing the following morning. When Madame Pomfrey was finally content that Blaise's arm wasn't about to drop off from infection or some other ridiculous notion, she released him officially from her care and allowed him to return to classes. He still had strict instructions to keep taking anti-infection potions once every day for the rest of the week, something Blaise grumbled about all the way to class. From the awful choking scent of the liquid, Draco certainly didn't envy him.
"If you hate the bloody potions that much, why not just forget to take them? I'm sure your immune system can deal with it." Draco suggested. Blaise ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes.
"Our human forms are fickle. If Atlas finds out I didn't take the damn potions he'd probably see red. Not to mention my Mother."
Draco didn't argue any further, though he did take Blaise's bag wordlessly when the boy tried to adjust his sling awkwardly with one arm. Draco tried not to notice the way Blaise still moved stiffly, sometimes flinching if he jolted his injured arm in a certain way. Despite her coddling, Madame Pomfrey was right; Blaise's wound had healed on the surface, but internally, it was probably another matter altogether. Draco swallowed the guilt that still refused to disappear, instead focusing on hiding the pity his face probably projected, knowing Blaise wouldn't appreciate it.
They arrived at their double Potions lesson late because of their detour to the Medical Wing, not that Snape called them out on it. Their Head of House gave Blaise the smallest of nods when he entered the dungeon classroom (which was Snape code for 'welcome back') and ignored Draco completely, deciding not to react at all to his tardiness as he swaggered in.
"What did Madame Pomfrey say?" Daphne asked Blaise as they dropped their bags down at her table, taking the two free seats next to her. She'd promised to save them seats at Breakfast this morning.
Draco tried to hide his smirk. Someone was worried - and wasn't doing a good job of hiding it.
"Don't get him started," Draco joked, jerking his head in Blaise's direction, "Someone has to take potions every day for the rest of the week."
"They taste like mutilated slug spawn, before you ask." Blaise grumbled. Daphne sent him a sympathetic glance, placing her hand on his arm.
"At least it isn't infected though right? Merlin knows where those disgusting talons have been." She reassured, smiling tentatively. Like magic, Blaise's scowl vanished, replaced with a soft smile of his own.
"I suppose, yeah."
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly. Daphne turned her attention back to the front of the class, removing her hand. When Blaise glanced his way, Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, smirking devilishly, causing Blaise to roll his eyes and shove Draco hard enough he nearly fell out of his chair.
They soon found out they were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Draco set up his cauldron next to Blaise, and Daphne set hers up on the boy's other side, sandwiching Blaise in the middle. It was only when Blaise began to have trouble cutting up his roots, Draco wordlessly taking them from him and cutting them up into perfectly equal pieces, did the boy realise they had set up that way deliberately. Cunning bastards.
"You don't have to help me, you know, Malfoy." Blaise muttered in annoyance. He reached to skin his Shrivelfig, but Daphne smacked his hand away, picking it up instead and beginning to skin it for him.
"Nonsense. It's Draco's fault you're in this mess. Least he can do is cut up your roots." She argued logically.
Neither of them mentioned it was because Blaise couldn't do it himself.
When Snape passed, he gave Draco and Daphne a small nod of approval, making Blaise sigh loudly. Draco smirked, carefully adding Blaise's roots to his cauldron.
"Just shut up and enjoy it, would you? I'm never going to do this for you again. Next time you can cut up your own damn roots." Draco threatened, without any real bite, waving at Blaise with his knife.
Weasley scoffed. "Merlin forbid you get your hands dirty." He muttered under his breath.
Slowly, Draco turned around, eyes narrowing dangerously at the sight of Weasley and Potter tending to their cauldrons on the table behind them. He didn't know whether to be more offended by Weasley's comment, or the fact they had clearly been eavesdropping. To everyone's surprise, it was Daphne that spoke.
"What was that Weasel?" She sneered.
The Gryffindor turned brick red. Beside Daphne, Blaise and Draco exchanged matching grins.
"Yes, Weaselbe, what did you say?" Draco sing-songed, leaning back on his desk. Potter glared at him while Weasley only turned redder.
"Probably something to do with how his potion is overboiling." Blaise pointed out casually, though there was nothing casual about it. Weasley swore, rushing to turn the heat on the cauldron down while the Slytherins cackled.
Glaring, Weasley turned back to Blaise. "Laugh all you want, Zabini, but everyone knows Malfoy is only cozying up to you because you saved his life. He'll go back to the trolls when he's bored."
Beside him, Draco felt Blaise tense, his hand balling into a fist. Draco's gaze hardened on Zabini's behalf. How dare they? Their house may be known for self-preservation, but they could be loyal. Dangerously so. The difference was, they just didn't hand it out to every idiot they came across unlike some people. That's what Slytherins were – all or nothing at all.
"I wouldn't call Crabbe and Goyle that when they're within hearing distance, Weasel. You're lucky they're on the other side of the classroom." Draco snarled, turning back around to stir his potion.
"That a threat, Malfoy?" Potter asked, glaring at his back.
"Depends, seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Draco asked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
"None of your business," said Weasley jerkily, without looking up.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Draco, in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about Zabini's injury, our parents are business partners you see, not that you would know anything about business -"
"Keep talking Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Weasley.
"- he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this-" Draco gave a huge, fake sigh, "who knows if his arm'll ever be the same again? Right Blaise?" Draco clapped the wizard the shoulder. Daphne snickered while Blaise tried to keep a straight face.
"If only I was left-handed..." Blaise trailed off, making Draco's smirk widen. The two Dragonborns grinned at each other. Behind them, Potter and Weasley easily caught on, looking so furious they might explode.
"So that's why you're putting it on," said Potter, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try and get Hagrid sacked."
"Well," said Blaise, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. I'm looking forward to the next week free of homework. Since, you know, I'm not left-handed."
"Potter, Weasley, ten points from Gryffindor for talking and not working on your Potions." Came Snape's cold voice from across the classroom.
"But sir-" Weasley exclaimed, outraged.
"Make that fifteen."
Predictably, the Gryffindors glared at them while they turned back to their cauldrons, snickering. Draco was the first to recover, noticing movement across the classroom.
"Looks like Longbottom's in trouble again." Draco commented amusedly.
A few cauldrons away, Longbottom was, as Draco had keenly observed, in trouble. Even Draco noticed how he went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned -
"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quit early, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
Longbottom was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. Draco snickered. Daphne whacked him on the arm.
"Ow, what was that for?" Draco whined, rubbing his arm.
"Your Potion needs stirring, you idiot."
Draco's eyes widened, taking in the way his potion was rapidly turning a dark, murky green, rather than the perfect bright shade, and rushed to pick up his spoon. "Crap."
"Poor sod." Blaise commented as Draco rushed to save his potion. When his potion was back to the perfect bright shade of green, Draco followed Blaise's gaze, smirking at the sight of Longbottom begging Granger to help him after Snape had declared his potion would be tested on his toad at the end of lesson. Draco was about to make another comment, perhaps something about how funny Longbottom's panicked look truly was, when he heard Finnigan speaking to Potter and Weasley behind him.
"Have you heard? Daily Prophet came this morning – reckons Sirius Black's been sighted."
Draco titled his head, listening closely without being obvious.
"Where?" said Potter and Weasley quickly.
"Not too far from here," said Finnigan, who sounded excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she 'phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."
"Not too far from here..." Weasley repeated, and Draco turned round, seeing he was looking significantly at Potter. Then he noticed him. "What, Malfoy? Need that injury I promised you?"
Draco ignored him, fixing his eyes on Potter. Sirius Black, eh? Draco moved forward, leaning against their table.
"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"
"Yeah, that's right," said Potter offhandedly.
Draco let his lips curl into a mean smile. Behind him, Blaise and Daphne turned around to look at them curiously.
"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" said Weasley roughly.
"Don't you know, Potter?" Draco breathed, eyes narrowing. Surely he did. Surely he knew Black was his godfather?
"Know what?"
Or perhaps not.
Draco let out a low, sneering laugh. "Maybe you'd not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."
"What are you talking about?" Potter angrily snarled, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now. This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk; clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."
Draco heard Crabbe and Goyle laugh openly, and found he was tempted to join in. Longbottom was sweating as he stirred his potion feverishly, Granger muttering instructions to him from the corner of her mouth.
"What was that about?"
Draco turned to face Blaise, who had spoken and was beginning to pack up his ingredients, Daphne doing the same.
"What do you mean?"
Blaise waited until Daphne walked over to Pansy, talking excitedly with her, to speak. "Sirius Black? Isn't he your cousin?"
Draco shot him a glare. "My Mother's removed cousin. He was disowned years ago."
"Still a blood relative though, right?" Blaise whispered, leaning closer so others wouldn't hear. Draco frowned, suspiciously eyeing the taller boy.
"So?" He challenged.
"Nothing, just..."
"Just what, Blaise?" Draco snapped.
They stared at each other, neither backing down. Draco, defensive and tense, and Blaise, silently considering.
"There's not much else people like us value more than family. Disowned or not." He finally said, taking his cauldron away to clean. Draco frowned as he watched him leave.
Weird.
Still frowning, Draco began to pack away his own ingredients, satisfied with the bright acid green colour of his potion.
To his disappointment, Granger did manage to help Longbottom correct his potion in time for it to be tested on the toad, turning it into a tadpole. Still, he got to enjoy the knowing smirk he sent Potter on the way out of class.
During lunch, Blaise seemed distant. Cold. Barely said a word to him, even though Draco was sat next to him, rather than Crabbe and Goyle. He tried to start up conversation a few times but eventually, Draco gave up, talking to his other housemates instead, even though they weren't nearly as interesting to converse with. It was only when he caught Blaise sneaking glowering glances at Weasley that Draco figured it out.
"It's not true, you know." Draco said suddenly, in a moment when he had chosen to stay silent as he watched Pansy flip off because Crabbe had knocked over the Pumpkin juice, spilling it all over her Charms homework.
Blaise frowned, glancing over to Draco, who didn't turn to look at him, instead choosing to watch as Crabbe got hexed under the table. "What?"
"What Weasley said. It's not true." Draco clarified.
Blaise stared at him sceptically. "And I should believe you because?"
"I've been trying to shake Crabbe and Goyle all day." Draco pointed out, finally turning to look at him.
"And that's a reason, why?"
Draco shrugged. "They're idiots. You're not."
"I'm charmed." Blaise commented dryly. Draco smirked.
"Sorry, Zabini, but I don't swing that way. Ask Theo instead."
Beside them, Theo choked on his drink, spluttering as he glared at Draco. Blaise burst out laughing.
"So, you trust me now, fratello?" Draco asked with a grin. Instantly, Blaise froze, staring at Draco wide-eyed.
"Do you even know what that means?"
Draco turned back to watch Pansy screech whilst she tried to salvage her soaked parchment. Blaise noticed he looked slightly nervous. "I may have asked Atlas to translate. I figured he would know Italian cause... you know."
Because Atlas had known Blaise's father went unspoken between them.
"I...uh... didn't say it wrong, did I?" Draco mumbled, looking at his food.
This time, it was Blaise's turn to smirk. "No, you didn't."
"I just thought, I mean the way Atlas described people like us, and after what you said in Potions... That's the mindset isn't it? Our kind is family."
"Family above all." Blaise whispered.
They exchanged a glance. Awkwardly, they cleared their throats and looked away. They were turning into snivelling Hufflepuffs. Quick Draco, change the subject, change the subject-
Realisation dawned.
"Wait, are there others like us at Hogwarts?" He squawked.
"That only just occurred to you?" Blaise asked incredulously. Draco's eyes widened.
"So, there is?" He asked, leaning in closer to whisper.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yes."
"Who?"
"No idea." Blaise answered, stabbing his food with his fork.
"What do you mean, you have no idea? Blaise? Blaise."
Draco was still pestering him all the way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. On the way inside the classroom, Draco deliberately knocked into Potter, muttering just low enough so Potter could hear "Watch it, Potter. Don't want me breaking my arm. Then my father may finally be able to get you expelled, along with sacking your pal Hagrid." In a surprising turn of events, it was Weasley who held Potter back while Draco laughed.
Unfortunately, Professor Lupin wasn't there, so the class sat down, took out their books, quills and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room.
And Draco knew he was there before anyone else. He could not only sniff out that horrible wet dog smell that made him gag from a mile off, but the dragon inside his chest seemed to tense, the hairs on his neck standing on end. Sat beside him, Blaise seemed to also still, obviously feeling the same as he was, and after they exchanged a glance, they both turned around, the first ones to notice the Professor enter the classroom.
Lupin strode past their desks – was it Draco's imagination or did he just falter slightly upon seeing them? - and the chatter in the classroom died, everyone turning their attention to the new teacher who stopped and turned to face them all at the front of the class, standing beside a tall mirrored wardrobe. His robes were as shabby as ever. Draco sneered, though from a certain angle it probably looked like a snarl, with the way his dragon was raising its hackles like a cornered cat.
"Can you smell that?" Blaise asked quietly.
"You mean the horrible stench? It's hard to miss." Draco ground out, jaw clenched, trying to shove the dragon into submission.
"He's not human."
Draco whipped his head to Blaise. "What?"
"His scent, the smell – it isn't human. Can't be."
"If he's not human, then what is he?" Draco hissed.
Before Blaise could answer him, Lupin spoke.
"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."
A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. When Draco leaned down with Blaise to put their books away, he took the opportunity to get his attention again.
"Blaise."
"I don't know, mate. I honestly don't know." Blaise answered, knowing he was referring to his previous question.
"I thought you've been to –" Draco paused, risking a glance around him, afraid of others listening in. "- you know, our world. Surely you've met enough creatures to recognise the scent?"
"Obviously, I haven't encountered this one, alright?"
Suddenly a horrible thought crossed Draco's mind as he sat back up in his seat, getting his wand out. Lupin was talking about how they needed to move the desks back and clear the space.
"He can't smell us, can he?" Draco asked, voice wavering in fear.
"No, I don't think so."
"You don't think so?" Draco hissed.
"When we're like this – human – other creatures can't tell what we are. Our scent only changes when our control slips, we lose our temper, or we half shift and even transform completely, by which point it's pretty obvious. For all intents and purposes, these forms are human to everyone else. Even our own kind can't tell us apart."
"That's why you have no idea who could be a Drag- uh, like us?"
"Yes."
"So, its like camouflage then?"
"Highly advanced camouflage."
"You sure?"
"Not entirely. But that's how Atlas explained it so I'm hopeful."
"I suppose that's a small mercy." Draco muttered sarcastically, but Blaise seemed too apprehensive to notice.
"Don't say that yet. We don't have a clue what he is either. Just act normal." Blaise hissed out the corner of his mouth.
Draco hated that he was right.
"Now, then," said Lupin, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing except an old wardrobe. The desks had been pushed to the sides of the room, out of the way, and everyone gathered round. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to the wardrobe, it gave a sudden wobble, as if something was clamouring to get out.
"Nothing to worry about," said Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped back in alarm (Draco included, which earnt a snicker from Blaise and a glare in return from Draco). "There's a Boggart in there."
This time, it was Draco that snickered at Blaise's terrified face. He wasn't the only one either: Longbottom gave Lupin a look of pure terror, Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively and Draco felt the girls - Pansy, Daphne and Millie - take two steps back behind them. Even Theo looked uneasy.
Draco had seen a Boggart before. Accidentally let one loose in the Manor once when he was younger poking around an old room used for storage (he had been hiding from his governess). The Boggart had scared the daylights out of his six-year-old self, shifting into a terrifyingly accurate imitation of the muggles his father had told him about, the ones that like to steal little children's magic for themselves. He had screamed so loud his Mother heard him in the other wing of the house – not that he would tell anyone that. His Boggart certainly wouldn't be the same image now. After reading about all the creatures that wizards didn't know about from Atlas, there were quite a few contenders. And then there was the Dementor and what he saw...
Draco tried to shake the images of blood and claw marks from his mind.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin was saying. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.
So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart? What does it look like?"
Granger put up her hand from beside Weasley and Potter. Draco frowned at her – since when did she get here? He could of sworn she wasn't in the class a second ago.
"No one knows," She said. "It's a shape-shifter that can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," said Professor Lupin and Granger practically glowed. Draco rolled his eyes. "So, the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."
"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Longbottom's small splutter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it Harry?"
Trying to answer the question with Granger next to you, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, and silently Draco respected Potter for trying.
"Er - because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"
"Precisely. It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening."
"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."
"We will practise the charm without wands first. After me please... riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class cried together.
"This class is ridiculous." Draco muttered. Nobody heard him, and if they did, they ignored him.
"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And that is where you come in, Neville."
The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Longbottom, who walked forward as though he was heading for the gallows.
"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"
Lognbottom's lips moved, but no noise came out.
"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry,"
Longbottom looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."
Draco guffawed, laughing wildly. Blaise chuckled beside him, and even the girls sniggered.
"Professor Snape... hmmm... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"
"Er - yes," Longbottom said nervously. "But - I don't want the Boggart to turn into her, either."
"No. It won't. I want you to picture her clothes – only her clothes - clearly in your mind."
"She carried a red handbag..."
Professor Lupin shook his head, cutting Longbottom off. "We don't need to hear. As long as you see it, we'll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe, here's what I want you to do:"
Draco watched as Professor Lupin walked over to Longbottom and leaned down to whisper into the boy's ear. Curious, Draco titled his head slightly, and his heightened hearing picked up what suspiciously sounded like 'Picture Professor Snape in your grandmother's clothes'. Surely he had been mistaken, but beside him, Blaise was frowning slightly in confusion, as if he had heard it as well. Longbottom's shocked face seemingly backed up the words too.
Perking up in interest, Draco pushed off from the wall where he had been leaning, paying more attention to the scene than he had before.
"Can you do that?" Professor Lupin asked. Longbottom nodded, if a little hesitantly when the wardrobe rattled once more. "Now, if Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift its attention to each of us in turn. I would like you all to take a moment now and think about how you might force it to look comical..."
Draco swallowed. He didn't know what the Boggart would turn into. Even if it was... the thing he had seen, that wasn't his greatest fear. That belonged to Atlas more than him – and it was real, a memory. So what was he afraid of most of all?
A dreadful thought crossed his mind, and he imagined Lucius standing in front of that wardrobe, a sneer of disdain in place. Unconsciously, Draco rubbed his arm, where his scales had first grown during the summer.
Feeling incredibly nervous, he made his way to the end of the line that quickly formed due to Lupin's instructions to get everyone back, leaving Longbottom a clear field. The rest of the class were rolling up their sleeves, some with their eyes shut, probably trying to imagine a comical take on their worst fears. Draco hoped that being at the back, they would run out of time before he got a turn. From the way Blaise didn't look overly eager, he was probably hoping the same. Trying to distract himself, Draco made eye contact with Crabbe and Goyle, sending them his trademark smirk and gestured to the line that had formed. They sent him knowing looks back, and the three of them entered the back of the line, taking great pleasure in shoving the students in front of them, a couple of Ravenclaw boys, causing the whole line of tightly packed bodies to stumble forward, everyone reluctant to be first. Hisses of outrage and annoyance followed and Draco grinned, turning around to Blaise, who sent him a half-hearted glare. Draco just smiled innocently back.
"Wands at the ready! On the count of three, Neville," said Lupin, eyes glancing over Draco, but choosing not to comment at his little stunt. Instead, he pointed his wand at wardrobe's doorknob. "One - two – three - now!"
The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Longbottom. The Gryffindor backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down on him, reaching inside his robes.
"R-r-riddikulus!" squeaked Longbottom.
There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand.
There was a roar of laughter; even his housemates were in stitches, including Draco himself after he had gaped for a second, frozen at the sight of the image in front of him. He forgot all about his supposed fears instantly, as if they had never existed at all. The class continued, and various students each stepped forward, becoming braver each time someone took a turn with the Boggart. Draco saw banshees and mummies, giant spiders, snakes and clowns - even a severed hand. And then it ended, Lupin stepping in before Potter got a chance with the thing. Disappointing - Draco would have loved to see Potter's Boggart. On the other hand, at least he didn't have to give it a go.
Even after they left the classroom, he and Blaise couldn't figure out why Lupin was afraid of some glowing white orb, nor could they figure out what he was. They didn't notice Lupin's eyes on their backs either.