Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing
Chapter 5: A Puzzle For You

Ron had never been so pleased in his life to see Neville. When the slightly chubby boy popped out of the floo that night, he had even helped him drag his trunk upstairs, brushing rudely past The Git, as he liked to call him. When they had comfortably sat themselves down in the bedroom, Neville finally voiced his question, which had been burning since the unlikely encounter on the stairs.

"Er, Ron? Was that really Malfoy?"

"YES! It was! He's been staying here ever since summer began. From what I've heard, he defected or something and is hiding here till all the trouble goes away." Ron snorted, "Bloody coward."

"How long did you say he'd been here?"

"He was here when Mum brought us here from the platform, right at the beginning of summer."

"Right then?"

"Yes, Neville. I told you." Ron's voice was snappy. Maybe seeing Neville wasn't such a great idea. He seemed to be denser than usual.

"Sorry, don't mean to sound dense." Ron blushed. "Just, if we sort of turned Crabbe, Goyle AND Malfoy into humans-resembling-slugs on the train ride home, how did he manage to beat you here, looking normal?"

Ron just stared at him. "You know, Neville, I never thought of that." And the boys sat there, pondering the puzzle until the dinner bell rang.

The dinner bell always seemed to break Ron out of his stupors. No one ever really knew why.

Almost a week later, Draco was very surprised to be pulled into the library by a very vexed lycanthrope. After shutting all the doors and casting a silencing charm, he cast a quick glance around all the cracks in the vicinity. Looking satisfied, he straightened, and smiled, only to suddenly rush past Draco and grab a stringy bit of flesh colored something hanging through a crack in the ceiling. Remus gave it a sharp tug, and an audible thump and curse were heard from above.

"Fred, George, I really don't think this is something I can share with you! Maybe some other time, alright?" Two thumps in quick succession were heard, and Remus cracked a grin at Malfoy's stunned expression.

"What is that?" He asked. Remus chuckled.

"Extendable Ear. Fred and George developed them last year, and they use them to eavesdrop during meetings and such. I've become very good at recognizing them." He handed the fleshy bit of string to Draco for closer inspection, "Sometimes I let it slide, but this is something which I think you might not want to share with them."

Draco just nodded. He was pretty sure that Professor Lupin was going to tell him his father had escaped from Azkaban, and he wasn't sure if he should just act surprised so that he wouldn't know he had been snooping, or just tell him he knew already.

"I know you might have been expecting this, but about a week ago, we learned that, well—"

"Professor, if you're going to tell me my father's out, then don't waste your breath, I already know." If the werewolf was surprised, he didn't show it.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you might keep a secret in this God-Forsaken house. Then all that's left is to ask you, is there any way that your father might be tracking you? It's certainly a viable assumption that he might be seeking revenge due to your defection, and it's sort of my job to ensure your protection." Draco cut off a snide comment about not being a wuss like Longbottom or Potter before it could escape, and thought for a moment.

"I don't really think so, but then, I suppose I wouldn't know if he did. He wouldn't tell me something like that." Remus nodded pensively.

"You don't mind if I do a quick scan? It won't hurt or anything, I promise."

"What good is the word of a wolf?" Draco couldn't think of why he said it, and Remus just bit his tongue, refusing to retaliate. Draco was quite frustrated. "I mean, come on, it's not like your kind is known for honesty or integrity. I mean, you lot eat babies!"

The only sign of Remus' anger was the tight grip he had on his wand. "I don't think you quite understand what you're saying, Mr. Malfoy."

"Like hell I do. All of you are just wolves in sheep's clothing. I should be worried about you trying to eat me in my sleep." Remus' knuckles were white.

"Malfoy, I really think it's time for you to stop judging individuals on a group stereotype. I, personally, have never in my life bitten anything. I've only even gotten close once. There are some werewolves who are dark, yes, but not all. The fact that you peg me as one simply validates your own stupidity."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change that you're a monster!" Remus was shaking now with suppressed rage.

"If I hadn't promised Dumbledore I'd keep you, you'd be out on the streets in a second, Malfoy," he snarled. "And I find it hard to believe, with your state of being, that you would be so careless as to assume things you don't understand. That's why we're at war, don't you know, because some stupid purebloods were too arrogant to think that maybe, just maybe, they might not be all powerful?"

"So the werewolf sticks up for the mudbloods, eh?" Draco didn't know where all of this was coming from. "You all think you're so special, don't you, fighting for the light. Being good, being noble. Well, I'll tell you, if I didn't value myself even a tiny bit, I wouldn't be here. I hate this shit."

"Get out of the library this instant. I will not tolerate such narrow-mindedness here." Remus' voice was frighteningly calm, and Draco left the room, leaving a furious man behind him. Closing the door, he could hear the moaning of the portrait in the foyer, the footsteps of Ron, Hermione and Neville, such good friends, and the clanging pots of Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Feeling very lonely, Draco sulked up to his shared bedroom praying to whoever was listening up there that it would be empty and he could feel sorry for himself in peace.

It wasn't.

Harry was bored as can be. His friends had sent him several letters so far, and he had returned them dutifully simple assurances that he was fine, but his heart wasn't in it. The Dursleys hadn't been too nasty, considering they thought Harry would owl his "Freak Friends" if they so much as looked at him the wrong way.

The truth was, Harry probably wouldn't have owled so much as a fle even if the Dursleys had started to beat him. Feeling guilty about a death will make anyone self destructive, and Harry had experienced his fair share of Survivor's Guilt. Added to that was the isolation forced upon him and he was in a right state.

Resting on his bed, Harry quickly finished up his obligatory letters to Ron and Hermione and sent them on their way with Hedwig, who looked anxious for a short flight. Lying down, he traced the familiar pattern of cracks in the ceiling. What was the point of it all anyway?

Just as he drifted off to yet another un-restful sleep, his eyes rested on a picture on his desk. He was standing with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and just as his eyes closed, he thought he saw picture-Ginny lean over and plant a not-so-sisterly-kiss on his cheek.

But that must have been his imagination.

Lucius Malfoy was leaning over a large square of glass. Having finally been released from his punishment of 7 days with his master, he had stormed in to his manor through the secret entrance into the room beneath the drawing-room floor, and pulled it out.

He had been furious with Draco when he heard the news. Fleeing the Death Eaters? Gone into hiding? This was not to be tolerated. Not from a Malfoy.

Rolling up his sleeves, he pointed his wand at the very centre of the glass. Whispering the incantation, the glass began to frost over in a strange pattern, almost like a map.

In fact, it was a map. And if everything worked, he should be able to locate this traitor of a son of his. His features spread out into an evil smirk as the frost began to cover the entire plate. He held his breath, as he recognized some of the streets as part of London. The process was almost complete.

Pulling out a small vial of dark red liquid, the elder Malfoy tipped it carefully, spilling only one drop of the younger Malfoy's blood onto the pane, where it fell and splattered. Just another minute now, and he'd know where that humiliating piece of slime was.

And he would make him pay.

Draco was only minimally surprised to hear whispering voices from his room.

"Ok, Ron. Here's the plan:"

"His Holy-Ferret-ness will be coming down the stairs at approximately 9.43 a.m.,"

"You will be in position with the itching powder at location 33."

"Fred and I will be in position with the new products number 33 at locations 41 and 82."

"At exactly 9.44 am, we strike."

"Don't you dare." What? Thought Draco.

"HERMIONE!" The voices whined. Ohh….

"Just because he's a Slytherin, you lot simply can't keep your mean-spirited pranks to yourselves. You lot should give him a break. Think of it. He's obviously in hiding here, and you all can't seem to just let him be!"

There was an awkward silence.

"HA!" Laughed Ron weakly, "for a moment there, Hermione, I thought you were serious." There was a loud smack, and Hermione yelled,

"Ronald Weasley, you frustrate me! How could you be so cold hearted?" Draco had only a moments warning before the door flew open and Hermione stood in front of him, eyes blazing.

"What on EARTH could you want?"

"Er…"

"Never mind." She snapped, and she stomped off.

What was that about?

Remus leaned his head in his hands as Draco stormed out of the library. He had known when he had agreed (against his better judgment) that it wasn't going to be roses with him in the house. Hell, it wasn't going to be roses with him anywhere. But pity, and Molly Weasley had made him see that maybe, just maybe, Draco was worth trying to save.

Now he was regretting it. Remus was no stranger to taunts about his lycanthropy. He had grown up with them in his life, and despite the sweet reprieve he had at Hogwarts with the Marauders, oftentimes people would still sneer at him. But all this experience didn't mean that the barbs hurt any less.

Remus knew in a few minutes he would calm down again. He doesn't know any better, what with growing up with Lucius Malfoy, he doesn't know, no one could truly mean something like that…Remus, man, you're not a monster…not a monster…

But while Lupin consoled himself, it never crossed his mind that he never actually got around to scanning for those tracing charms. Or that he currently had no idea where the extendable ear from earlier had gone to.

Everything was against him, Draco decided.

This was easy enough to prove. He was trapped in a house of immeasurable creepiness with the people he loathed second only to his father, two of whom had been pranking him non-stop since he had arrived, once even involving a potion which had made him sing in an alarmingly out of tune voice all of the old Spice Witches songs from the '90s. Not to mention the several different hair colors he'd sported, along with a few animal transformations, (the Weasley Twins had branched out from simple Canary Creams). In addition, his father was out of prison and, if he hadn't already, was about to go into a homicidal rage directed at Draco for hiding in said house instead of getting a skull and snake tattoo burned into his arm and forcing himself into life long servitude dedicated to a Dark Lord who enjoyed torturing people for fun. whew

Having dumped himself down at the kitchen counter, Draco just sat. He ran his fingernail across a groove in the table, and must have been looking really melancholy, because when Mrs. Weasley came in, she immediately rushed to his side.

"Dear, what's the matter?" Draco looked at her in wonder. What's the matter? Was she insane? "Oh, I should have known things would be more difficult with the others. Here."

And before he knew it, Draco was swept up in the first real hug of his life. And for some reason, he wondered, he was actually enjoying it.

Lucius Malfoy was leaning over the pane of glass expectantly. He had charmed this to trace Draco when he was nearly infantile, and had used it once before without fail when Draco's first set of grades had come in. Draco hadn't hid from him since.

His nose nearly touching the glass, he smiles as the dark blood began to slither across the map, spreading, searching…

His face contorted into a scowl, and then he let out a frustrated roar. Storming out of the room, he vowed he wouldn't rest until that damned son of his was dead in his hands.

Across the frosted glass, the blood had streamed and drawn, slowly forming the letters:

LOCATION UNAVAILABLE

A/N: Ok, to the reviewer who wanted the exact name of the other good D/H fic I read, the story number is 386939. It's called, specifically, Their Room, and it while it didn't exactly inspire this fic, it was certainly a good read. Hope you enjoy.

Just a few more comments than usual today, in response to the reviews(which I love): A few people have been mentioning that Draco doesn't seem to opposed to Voldemort et al(and I meant et al, not at all). This is on purpose.gaspWhen you think about it, Draco Malfoy as we know him (the spineless ferret-idiot-man from the books) has no affection for muggles, muggle-borns, the Order or being a good person at all. What I'm trying to do is give a logical reason for why he would defect, and eventually fall in love with our bushy-haired, bookworm heroin. It makes no sense if he just suddenly STOPS being evil because I say so, no matter how much easier this story would be to write.

I also wanted to thank everyone who's been reviewing. It's really a bright spot in my day to see so many people responding to what I write. I may think it's good, but in the end, it's what you all think that really matters. So please, keep it up. I love you:)