[Author's Note: Canon compliant through Book 7, ignores Epilogue. Based on a prompt by Wake the Dragon (whose story "A Curse So Dark and Lonely" also inspired the "beast" form in this story), but all faults are my own.

Shipping notes: This story contains Harry/Daphne and Draco/Astoria shipping. Draco is somewhat less of an arse by the time of this story (four months after the Battle of Hogwarts) for reasons that eventually become clear.

Trigger warnings: graphic violence, discussions of euthanasia/suicide, and depression

Thanks to Volksbrot for beta-reading this whole thing and doing a darn fine job of it!]

Chapter 1: You Never Let Anyone Go

Draco let the disorientation of apparating wash over him and smirked as both of the Aurors holding his arms staggered a little. With all of the filth that had been dumped on his family over the last four months since the Battle of Hogwarts (to say nothing of the filth they'd voluntarily wallowed in before that), it was nice to get the occasional reminder that he was an uncommonly skilled wizard.

Unfortunately, these men were also supposed to keep him alive this evening, a realization that promptly chased Draco's smirk off of his face. A quick check of his surroundings revealed only overgrown, weedy gardens and an algae-choked, nonfunctional fountain. Nothing was trying to kill them yet, but the night was young. A damp chill hung in the air, less a promise of fall than a threat of winter.

"Nice work, Malfoy," Auror Jones said. "You got us through the Greengrass wards."

The young man shrugged. "I figured I was probably still keyed in, especially given how derelict the estate has become. So what you two want is probably in the manor?"

"Almost certainly," Auror Ryan said.

"Very well," Draco said. "I'll take the lead by about two yards and warn you if I feel any more wards. I'll be focused on that, so I'm counting on you two to watch my back."

The Aurors nodded and fell in behind Draco, Jones two yards back from him and Ryan two yards back from Jones. Despite himself, Draco had to admit their movements were crisp and precise.

He led them forward carefully, sticking to the paths that took them near large bushes, statues, or other items that could be used as cover against anyone watching from the manor. Draco had no reason to believe Cyrus Greengrass or his daughters were still alive, but he didn't know who else might have moved in since the Battle of Hogwarts and a lot of his former "friends" now wanted his family dead for turning their backs on the Dark Lord's cause.

When they came up to a large bush on the border of the open ground around the fountain, Draco put up his hand to let the Aurors know he was pausing. "I don't like the open ground ahead," he whispered. "I'm going to run over there and stay low, but don't follow until I wave you on. I don't want you slamming into a ward because I haven't had time to warn you."

They nodded, so Draco dashed off toward the fountain. He knelt on the far side of the central stone statue of a selkie spitting water (or what would have been water if the fountain were active) from the manor and took stock of what he'd sensed as he'd run. Satisfied there was nothing, he waved the Aurors over.

Jones hurried over and knelt next to him. "So far, so good."

"Wait." Draco looked over the man's shoulder. "Where's Ryan?"

"He was right behind me!" Jones hissed as he spun around. "Ryan! What are you-"

The man's sentence ended with a sickening thud. Draco turned around in time to see Jones crumple to the ground at the feet of what could only be described as a monster. A humanoid fox, easily seven feet tall and over twenty stone of pure muscle, towered over the two of them. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Draco tried to bring his wand to bear on the new target before its fist connected with his face, a race that Draco lost.

The shock of the impact threw Draco back four feet onto the cobbled drive, his head taking another jarring as it bounced against the hard stones. Darkness was creeping in around the edges of his vision and he mentally screamed at his lazy, useless arm to raise his wand, but nothing happened. The beast strode up to him and reared back for a punch that would probably shatter his skull against the stones, and he could only watch through the shadows already claiming his sight as the blow came down.

And stopped, a foot from his face, as another clawed hand reached out and caught it. Draco had questions, so many questions, but unconsciousness overtook them all and he surrendered to the darkness.

It was well after ten o'clock in the morning and Harry considered getting out of bed, but the silence of 12 Grimmauld Place was enough to push him back under the covers. Besides, why bother? He finally had what he wanted: silence. No Ginny asking him to go out to Quidditch matches, no Ginny asking him to take her to dinner or clubs…

No Ginny. He buried his face in his pillow. She'd left him the previous week, and he finally had the silence he'd been craving since the end of the war.

He hated it.

Harry had never known how much he needed someone...anyone around him. The only company he'd had for the last few days had been a house elf who hated him and a house that also seemed to hate him. Ron and Hermione were off in Australia trying to fix her parents, and Andromeda had made it clear that she didn't need Harry hanging around all day, every day while she was trying to raise her grandchild.

The sound of a voice in the floo was a welcome distraction. "Potter?" a woman asked. "Are you there?"

Had he been thinking more clearly, he would have wondered why it didn't set Walpurga off, but instead he just shouted "One moment!" in reply. He threw on enough clothing to look decent at a modest distance and hurried downstairs. It was only when he'd cleared the staircase that he remembered whose voice it was, at which point he wished he'd been more specific in his desire for company.

"Hello, Narcissa," he said as he stepped in front of the fireplace. Hopefully, his tone conveyed every last ounce of his feelings for her.

"May I come through?" she asked. Her normally perfect hair was in disarray, her eyes were bloodshot, and not a trace of makeup graced her delicate features. "I need your...help. Urgently."

Harry bit off an instinctive "no" and thought about it. She sounded genuinely upset and looked like she'd spent the night in a dryer, possibly one that periodically turned on. Besides, the worst-case scenario was that she would kill him, and he couldn't find it in him to fear that as much as he used to.

"Come on over," Harry said, and stood back so Narcissa could floo in.

She hit the ground firmly and shook the soot out of her hair. "Thank you, Potter. I'm sorry to...Merlin, child, you look awful. Did you just wake up?"

He shrugged. "Didn't seem like there was any reason to get out of bed."

"You sound like my husband," she said. "At least you don't smell like him, though. That man drinks like a fish and reeks like a dead one."

"I'd normally take offense to any comparison to Lucius," Harry said, "but I can't honestly say you're wrong."

Narcissa sighed. "Harry, I need your help, but I need the boy who defeated a Dark Lord, not…" she gestured at him, "this. Go shower and I'll have Kreacher make breakfast."

Harry wanted to yell at her or at least say something snarky, but having someone care that he looked like crap was such a massive improvement in his week that all said was, "OK."

Ten minutes later, he was showered and tearing through a traditional English breakfast across the table from Narcissa, who'd also taken the opportunity to fix up her hair. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, and he'd wolfed down about half of the breakfast before Narcissa finally spoke.

"Welcome back to the world of living," she said. "I'm afraid you're going to want to be at full strength for this."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked in between bites.

"The Aurors." She practically spat out the word. "Unlike my husband, my son is trying to pull our family name out of the mud. He's been assisting Aurors in cases where his name or expertise can help."

"I've heard scuttlebutt about that from some of the Aurors I know," Harry said.

Narcissa nodded and continued, "Last night, he never came home, and this morning I found a letter on the dining table."

She took a deep, shaky breath, and continued. "He'd...charmed it so it would only appear there if he didn't stop it. It said he wasn't allowed to tell anyone where his missions would take him before he left, but there was nothing in the Vow about telling people afterward."

Harry had to admit that was clever, if a little risky. If Draco got the timing wrong on that charm, it would be the end of him.

"The letter said he'd been on a mission to Greengrass Manor the night before. He thought he was still keyed into the wards there from our regular visits as family friends prior to the war. I asked the Aurors and the two who went with him were found outside the manor this morning with serious concussions. They're receiving care, but the Head Auror says his resources are stretched too thin to try to risk more people to try to find out what happened to Draco." She shook her head. "That's my son, Potter. I can't accept that as an answer. Please come with me and help me find him."

Harry scooped up the last bite of baked beans and thought about it. "Can't you ask Lucius? He was a skilled duelist, too, and he actually liked Draco."

"Lucius hasn't picked up a wand in weeks," Narcissa said. "He just sits around, drinks, and mopes. Our other old friends are either dead, imprisoned, or hate us for not being either of those. I need help, Potter, and you're the only one who will."

"I will?" Harry asked skeptically. "I kept your family out of Azkaban. We're even."

"This isn't about owing us," she said. "You've never been able to let anyone go. You didn't leave my son to die at Hogwarts and I don't think you will today, either."

He sighed. "Damn it. You're right."

"I know," Narcissa said smugly. "What should we do now?"

"You don't have a plan?" he asked. "I thought you just wanted me to tag along in case you needed something hexed."

"Me?" She shook her head. "I'm a Pureblooded matron, not an Auror. I can get you through the Greengrass wards, but after that I'm just going to follow your lead."

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, Harry wished Hermione were around. She would tell him this was a terrible idea or at least come up with a plan for him. Instead, though, all he said was, "Fine. Tell me what I need to know."