Author's Note:

Quick note to tell you I might add some details here and there via these notes, so that some things I put in the story don't seem to come out of nowhere… Like Harry's scar for example - it's not mentioned here but I really like the headcanon about it actually looking like a lightning scar (so like the Lichtenberg figures), and not a scar looking like a lightning bolt, if you get what I mean. There's ton s of fanarts of it, if you want to take a look. So it is the way his scar looks like in my story. If I think of anything else later, I'll tell you if needed.

When Draco woke up, the room was filled by the light that managed to pierce through the dusty windows. His vision was a blur again, but he could make out the wooden wall in front of him. He swallowed with difficulty as he closed his eyes, his body slowly coming out of its numbness. He realised that he was curled up on the floor. He was thirsty and he felt like he had barely slept for ten minutes that night. He moved and felt the thin but rough blanket that was covering half of his body. He frowned and then remembered. He suddenly sat up and an acute pain shot up his right forearm. He let out a sound a bit too high-pitched for his liking before he scanned the room.

There was Lupin, sitting on the mattress, fully dressed. He was staring at Draco, his seriousness painted on his face. Draco wasn't even embarrassed to know that his professor had put the blanket on him — not after what they had shared that night ; the real reason of his shame.

"Quit looking at me," he finally said, hoarse.

"Draco, look at your arm," Lupin replied, eyes still fixed on the boy.

Draco finally dared and looked down at his painful arm. Needless to say that he was a bit shocked when he saw the wound. Bloody claw marks along the top of his forearm. Some of the blood was dry, clamped on his body like the condition that had caused the injury, but the wounds themselves were still fresh, his blood disgustingly shiny under the sunlight.

Draco gulped again, trying to control his breathing to not let stress overtake him. It was as if the more he was looking at it, the more pain he could feel. It was burning and pulsating under his skin and turning his hand into a fist didn't stop the pain from reaching his fingers. He was only able to look away from the injury when he heard Lupin getting up.

The teacher came closer and put down a neat pile of clothes next to the teenager. He recognised the shirt he had worn the day before, pleated and a bit dusty, with his tie on top. And visibly, he had some new pants at the bottom of the pile.

"Severus gave me those for you. I told him that you were still sleeping, so that I would come back and bring them to you myself," he explained. He decided to sit on the floor as well, to try and have a conversation with Draco. "Convincing him wasn't the easiest part of this week, turns out. I told him I wanted to talk about last night with you, face to face. That it's important. Don't you think it is?"

Draco, jaw clenched, didn't answer. He was looking down at his hands as he was fiddling with the blanket. Maybe it was just to convince him to keep his wounded arm a secret, not to debrief the night. He had to be careful, he couldn't trust Lupin the way he trusted Snape. His godfather had to have a good reason to dislike him so much.

"But he wanted to come directly… it seems like he looks after you a lot."

Draco's fingers closed tightly on the blanket, which made his arm hurt again. Lupin noticed his brief tremor, his forearm contracting, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Yeah… he does that."

He glanced at Lupin and muttered a "thank you" as he nodded towards the clothes. Lupin gave him his usual kind smile and Draco wondered what he was going to do with his arm.

"What time is it?" He suddenly asked, realising that Lupin had been awake for a while if he had time to go out, meet Snape, and come back.

"Almost midday. The students are probably heading to the Great Hall as we speak," Lupin said to indicate that no one should see him get out of the passage and walk to the hospital wing. Lupin slipped a hand in his sweater jacket to take some chocolate out of an inside pocket. "Here. We didn't face Dementors, but chocolate always makes me feel better anyway. I like to think it has this effect on everyone."

He must have been right because Draco felt the shadow of a smile appear on his face when he took the chocolate. It quickly faded though.

"Do you remember anything?" Lupin asked as Draco unwrapped the chocolate.

Draco shook his head. His mind was still blurry about the night. It was often like that. He had never suffered from a complete memory loss but it was always taking some time for the events to clear up and make sense. He was often remembering things during the day, which usually only added to the nausea.

"You attacked me."

Draco suddenly turned his head to look at Lupin. His expression didn't translate anger, reproach or disappointment. He still had his smile, that made his tired eyes even smaller, as if he was smiling with his entire face.

"I didn't…" Draco articulated, wary.

"You did," Lupin said calmly, pressing his hand on the left side of his chest. Draco frowned and shook his head, still unable to believe him. "You're aggressive, did you know? But it's fine, it's not…" He began to say before his gaze drifted down on Draco's arm. "I can live with it."

"So, you… scratched back?" He asked, annoyed by the uncomfortableness of it all. He stared down at the chocolate in his hand, hoping the conversation would soon be over.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, "but it made you back out… I never meant to hurt you."

"Don't- apologize," Draco said shortly. If it really was his fault, what else could he say? He didn't remember it, so he didn't feel like apologizing. But listening to those words… it was painful too. He couldn't understand why he had attacked Lupin either. With the potion, he wasn't supposed to lose his mind.

"It was weird, facing another werewolf," Lupin continued, as if reading his mind, "I think it exacerbates everything, our every feelings, our every fears. I probably wouldn't have struck back had I been in my right mind, it wasn't just you."

Draco only shrugged at this, the boulder crushing his guts getting heavier by the second.

"I wanted to take care of your arm when I got up but… the night has been rough enough, I didn't want to wake you. And… well, I wanted to let you decide."

"Decide what?" Draco asked quickly, finally looking at his teacher again.

"I'm pretty sure you can't wait to tell Severus what happened," Lupin said, aware that Draco could tell any story he wanted about the events. How could Lupin prove his good faith? He also knew that the feelings he had talked about, for Draco, had been stress, anger, fear… He was wishfully thinking that by getting to know each other better, that by trusting each other, the cycles could go just fine. But he wasn't kidding himself, he shouldn't be getting his hopes too high with Draco Malfoy.

"What do you know…" Draco mumbled, somewhat vexed.

"You're right, I don't. But let's say you do. We both know what will happen to me," he said. And Draco couldn't help but contemplate the idea. He could do worse than having Lupin go in the Forest. He could probably get him sacked if he pushed hard enough. He just had to tell his father that he was being forced into this hiding place with another, bigger and stronger werewolf, and it would all be over. There would be no more pain at all. "I know what you did with that Hippogriff," Lupin continued, again as if reading his mind, "so I won't tell myself any lie."

"You don't know me," Draco reiterated, his contradicting nature getting the upper hand no matter what plans he had in mind.

"Well then, maybe you will prove me wrong. I just hope you'll be wise," Lupin said before he stood up. He gestured to the mattress. "You can take care of your arm with what's there. Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to give me what you need without asking any questions."

There was an awkward silence. Maybe Lupin was hoping for Draco to tell him he would keep what had happened that night a secret. Or maybe he just wanted him to say something — anything really. But no sound came out of Draco's mouth. He didn't look at his professor anymore, he didn't move, he didn't talk. He was hardly able to think straight. So, Lupin left him alone.

Draco waited for a long time. As if to make sure Lupin was far in the tunnel, even out of the passage. But then he waited some more, butterflies in his stomach. Then, finally, he put his pants on and sat on the mattress. He cleaned his wound as best as he could. The blood was hard to get rid off but he didn't want to have one last speck of it on his skin so he rubbed it for as long as needed. His arm was red afterwards, but it was clean. And even if taking care of the marks had been difficult, he was at least sure it wouldn't get infected. He was bandaging his arm when he thought of Lupin leaving the castle. If Lupin got sacked, he would have the house for himself again. He would be perfectly safe, his mood would improve, his mental as well. Again, no more pain. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked at the dressing on his arm. But behind his stretched hand, he got a glimpse of the blanket that had been on him when he woke up. He glanced around the damaged room, at the marked walls, the knocked over furniture and slowly, his smile faded away.

.

Draco only came back to class a couple of days later. This cycle had been more exhausting than the previous ones that year. It was probably because of the excess of emotions and stress. He left the hospital with a new splint. He had removed the first one before the cycle, he wasn't really that hurt and he didn't need it for the night. But now that he was truly injured? Well, he guessed it would be helpful for his little machination against Buckbeak, and that was his only comfort.

As he walked through the castle to go to the Great Hall, he had the strange impression everyone was staring at him. As if they knew, as if they could read it on his face or smell it on him. He felt naked. Someone knew his secret and he felt as if his entire life was laid down in front of him for everyone to see.

Some students did notice his arrival, but even if he kept his head up, he was looking down. He didn't want to meet anybody's eyes, not even his friends'.

He sat down next to Pansy, who knew better than to talk to him too much. Draco glanced at the staff table, where Lupin was sitting with McGonagall. Why was he feeling so unsatisfied? Why was he torn between causing scenes and keeping everything to himself?

He didn't stay in his thoughts too long as the familiar flapping of wings started to fill the room. He looked up at the owls delivering their letters and he tried to detect his own eagle owl. Apparently, Snape had sent his letter right away, because he soon saw the response coming his way. Goyle had to duck and the owl landed right on his chicken. As always, his mother had sent him a package full of sweets, with a letter tucked under the string. Goyle didn't react soon enough and was hit right in the face by a wing as the owl flew away to regain the owlery. Pansy laughed at him but Draco didn't pay attention, opening the letter first. He bit his lips as he glanced at the package. He had been right to think it was a bit heavier than it usually was. She knew he wasn't having a good time even if he couldn't directly spell out why, so she had sent him more sweets, as a gesture of support. Draco didn't know if he was feeling better or worse, in the end.

He had been very evasive in his letter, he wasn't about to talk about Lupin, and he often tried to avoid talking about his condition as much as possible. But how could it not be on their minds, always? He didn't need to describe why he was stressed out or tired because they knew it would always come back to this. Be it his father or his mother, they could read him like an open book. Still, it was easier for Draco to talk about all of this with his mother. Not that his father wouldn't understand, and even if he was still feeling guilty when talked about it with his mom, the fear and the pain were lessened by her attitude. Draco was feeling responsible for his father's own incredible guilt, he was feeling ashamed for tarnishing the family name, he feared his father would one day draw the line. He knew it was only his anxiety speaking, but how could it not? Even if his parents had always showered him with affection, he was still surrounded by hurtful and insulting mentalities. The whole thing was just very unnatural, and even if he didn't have the capacity to truly take a step back and analyse what his parents might have done wrong with their ways in spite of keeping him home, he knew his self-esteem was a result of an unhealthy legacy, a legacy he didn't deserve, a legacy he could never carry.

"Look who's back," Ron told Harry and Hermione, pointing at Malfoy with his chin as Draco was putting his letter in his pocket. "Doesn't really seem to be feeling better," he commented with a satisfied smile. But even he was wondering what was going on with the other boy. The whole thing was just weird once you paid close attention to it.

Hermione looked at Draco before she gazed at the staff table, where Lupin was. She narrowed her eyes, deep in her reflexion, before she looked down at her parchment again.

"You don't have anything to say about it?" Ron asked, surprised.

"No, you're right, it's stupid," she said quickly. The boys exchanged a glance but didn't push the matter further.

.

And Hermione didn't bring it up anymore for quite some time either. She was too busy to spend much time with her friends. Besides, Ron was often too mad about Crookshanks for Hermione to enjoy her time with them. At that point, she was better off alone, free to study as much as she wanted. So, the days went by, and October too. They were soon in November. This time, it felt like their school year was going to be pretty normal, if you didn't mind hearing about Sirius Black every other day.

Draco had decided not to tell Snape or his father about his first cycle in Lupin's company. Just like he had decided to never talk about it again with his professor. He was avoiding him at all cost. Classes were enough. He was even pretending he had forgotten… anything, really, if he noticed Lupin coming the other way, just so that he could turn around and flee the scene. It was ridiculous, of course. It wasn't like Lupin was going to wave at him and scream "I'll see you soon in the Shrieking Shack for our monthly transformation, you know, since we're both werewolves!"

It was stupid, really. But if it could grand him peace of mind, he would walk away every time.

Lupin had tried to talk about it with him the second time they found themselves in the old house, in late October. But Draco was still very cold with him and he had made sure Lupin couldn't open any door for conversation. But that night, at least, they didn't attack each other. Lupin must have been right, Draco had been bottling up too many bad feelings because of his anxiety. He had been stressing over attacking him again though, now that he could clearly remember what had happened. But he had spent the whole month trying to reassure himself and it must have worked out, even if he was still shivering whenever the memory crossed his mind.

.

"Apparently, Potter has the Grim?"

Hermione looked up at Draco. They were in the library, once again during lunch time. But this time, she had been careful and she had sat at another table, hoping that he wouldn't start bothering her. When she had arrived, he seemed to be focused on his work and she was certain he hadn't even noticed her. They had been working silently for half an hour, and she couldn't tell when he had realised she was there. She stared, an eyebrow raised.

"The news's been out for a while now," she said, not exactly interested. Draco shrugged as he looked down at his parchment.

"Should be funny enough."

"Funny to you, maybe, like this whole fainting thing," Hermione said sharply. Draco snorted and her lips were reduced to a thin line. "At least Harry had a real reason to feel bad. Do you?" She asked with a nod to his injured arm. "Besides being a jerk, obviously."

Draco narrowed his eyes. Before his incident with Lupin, he had told the trio that he was putting on a show. But now… He just felt insulted by the accusation. He had no right to say anything about the way he felt, of course, so he played the way he wanted to.

"If you left your den for a minute," he said, gesturing at the room, "you'd realise I'm hilarious."

As dramatic as his mannerism looked, Hermione didn't show the shadow of a smile. "If I left my den for a minute, I don't think I'd spend my time being interested in your little person."

She was surprised when he didn't clap back, even just to call her a Mudblood.

"What? Nothing? You're usually better at this game than I am," she commented. Flying on a broom and being a jerk were probably the only fields Malfoy excelled more in than she did. "Is it because you're sick or something?"
Well, maybe she was interested in his little person sometimes. At least, she was very curious about why he was missing classes. And even if his face was usually drained of any colours, if you looked closely, from time to time, it did seem a bit of an unnatural tint. It wasn't his father's paleness; Draco was deadly pale and the bags under his eyes only added to the freshly-walked-out-of-a-grave look he had going for him.

"I'm not sick," Draco said shortly, staring at her.

"Colour me convinced."

"The door of the library opened and Hermione turned to the shelves, waiting to see who was coming their way. Soon, Harry and Ron showed up and approached Hermione, not without noticing Malfoy's glare. He didn't even pay attention to Harry, he didn't look at him, he kept staring at Hermione until she was hidden by Ron, who sat in front of her so she wouldn't be subjected to Malfoy's gaze anymore.

Draco didn't leave, even if he was bothered by the trio's presence. At least, not right away. He was way too behind in his classes and he needed to keep his grades up. Sure, he would never achieve Granger's results, but he had to keep up his usual pace. It probably wouldn't cross other people's minds but he was usually one of the best students of his years.

However, if he thought having to share a room with Granger was annoying, he quickly found out that sharing it with the three of them was even worse.

"Would you shut up already?" He snapped when Ron complained for the umpteenth time. The redhead could have snapped his neck, turning his head so fast to look at Draco, but he as so surprised by his attitude that he didn't find anything to say. Draco was already standing, abruptly closing his book before he pushed it away on the table. He grabbed his brown leather bag, mumbling to himself as he strode away, leaving the trio stunned. Ron turned to his friends once they heard the door closing behind Draco but Hermione kept looking at the bookshelf Draco had disappeared behind, puzzled.

"Alright, is someone going to tell me what is wrong with him lately?"

Harry shrugged, just as dumbfounded.

"Oh, so now you do believe something is wrong," Hermione said, a hint of frustration in her voice. "It's not like I didn't tell you! And for once, he's right, stop complaining."

Ron was now sure she would never help him with his homework.

It wasn't like they weren't used to Draco being aggressive or simply rude but at that moment, it was somehow completely out of character for him. There hadn't been any insult, he hadn't mocked any of them, he didn't provoke them. Usually, he would have commented on Ron's inability to succeed, or something. Even before snapping at them, he had just stayed silent and tried to work.

Hermione knew that he was really late for some of his homework. She herself could barely keep up with all the classes she was taking, but given the classes he was missing and the amount of work they already had, she wasn't surprised that he couldn't deal this year. She couldn't tell why she was so worked up about all of this. After all, why would she care? But something in her mind was bothering her, she just couldn't put a finger on it.

She turned back to her parchment, biting her lip as she tried to search for the answer that was hiding deep in her brain; something that would clear everything up.

.

Time went by and as Christmas approached, Harry got his hands on the Marauder's Map thanks to Fred and George. It had become a real treasure. He could know where everyone was at any given time, as long as he wasn't caught with it. He could use it to go to Hogsmeade, and he used it quite a few times to get back at Malfoy, suddenly appearing in hallways to scare him, which was always really funny.

He was also often looking at it at night, just for his own entertainment. And lately, it just wasn't as funny to annoy Draco. He was spending most of his time in the library or in his common room. It reminded him a bit of Hermione with all of her strange, strange amount of work. He and Ron were still wondering how she could put up with all her classes but they had stopped asking questions, knowing she wouldn't answer them.

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. He had way too many things on his mind. He wouldn't wait to start learning the Patronus Charm, he was wondering a lot about Sirius Black's whereabouts, Wood was following him everywhere to talk about Quidditch and his anxiety was starting to keep him up at night. So, as it was now becoming a habit, he took out his map and started to look at it.

At some point, he glanced at his watch, noticing that it was already two in the morning. He figured it was time to try counting sheep again but that was when he noticed that Draco Malfoy was still up in his common room. Harry frowned, even if he wasn't thinking too much of it. It wasn't the first time it was happening. Plus, Malfoy had just been sick for the last couple of days — again. Harry knew he wasn't faking since his name had been in the hospital all that time and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have let him stay there if she had even the smallest doubt about his condition. He was probably catching up on his work or something. Harry had absolutely nothing to worry about. And yet, before he could say Mischief Managed, he noticed another name approaching the Slytherin common room. Severus Snape. Now that was surprising. He watched his dot enter and stop, probably talking with Malfoy, before they both left the common room. Harry's heart skipped a beat. Maybe he could finally discover what was going on with his enemy? Without a second thought, he jumped on his feet and grabbed his Invisibility Cloak.

He glanced at Ron's bed and wondered if he should wake him up, but he decided not to and left the dormitory by himself.

He managed to catch up to Snape and Draco faster than he thought, because they had left the dungeons. They were heading for the kitchens, from what Harry could see on the map. They had to cross paths at some point and Harry waited, standing as still as he could. He didn't hear any voices when they approached, just footsteps. Then, he followed them, hoping that he was as silent as he wanted to be.

Once they arrived, Harry had to hurry to walk past the frame before it closed behind Draco and Snape. He let them make their way through the large room as he stood near the frame and looked around. It was the first time he was in the huge kitchens and it was empty of any life, it was just the three of them. After maybe a minute, Harry heard some noises. Recognising a plate and silverware, he walked towards the source. He hid behind a shelf, even if he was still under his cloak, to avoid any risk.

He finally saw Malfoy and Snape again. Draco was sitting at a table, a plate in front of him. Harry remembered that he hadn't been there for the feast that day. Still, it wasn't explaining why Snape was feeding him in the middle of the night. It wasn't as if they were talking, Malfoy was just eating a meal mainly composed of rare meat and Snape was standing close, on the other side of the table, staring at Draco as if he had never heard of blinking.

Harry examined Draco. It was weird to see him out of his uniform, in his pyjama pants and a t-shirt. He still had a band on his arm, which made Harry roll his eyes.

Harry's legs were starting to get tired as he stood still for some very long minutes, until Draco finally spoke. A jolt of energy surged through Harry as he listened closely.

"You know that I really need to work, right?" Draco asked Snape, who was still silent. He kept staring until Draco met his gaze.

"How did it go?" Snape finally asked. Draco stopped chewing. "When I told you that I wanted to know, "fine" was not what I expected from you."

Harry frowned.

"Can I go back? I'm not that hungry and I'm already late for this essay," Draco said, now avoiding Snape's eyes. The professor silently got closer to the table as he got his wand out. Without saying a word, the plate was attracted to his side of the table, where he places his hands.

"I have been fair with you. I gave you time, I didn't ask, I didn't push. But now I need to know. How. Did it. Go?" He asked coldly. Draco was still staring at his plate, unable to look up at his godfather. He would have left the matter alone if Draco had been able to act natural. If nothing had happened, he would have complained about Lupin. But he was too quiet. He was avoiding meetings with him, and worst of all, he had said that the cycles were going fine. Draco couldn't fool Snape, and he wasn't even sure he had really tried to. So, he sighed and got up. He walked around the table, his hand busy with the bands on his right arm. This time, Harry wasn't the only one who frowned, as Snape wasn't able to hide his reaction to this unpleasant surprise.

It was the moment Draco didn't want to face. He could lie. He could tell him that Lupin had attacked him and he would be sent away, if not sacked if Draco was playing his cards right. But he didn't have it in him, and he knew it. Why, he couldn't tell.

Draco's back was facing Harry, who could only see Snape., but the look on his face was enough for him to know that what Draco was showing him was more than serious. It couldn't be Buckbeak's fault. Draco had been deeply cut but he was clearly fine, he had even admitted to faking it. No, it had something to do with all the interrogations they had about him, there was no doubt in Harry's mind.

It was becoming harder for Harry to hear what they were saying. It was as if they were worried of being heard, as they were now almost whispering. But Harry didn't dare approach more, it was too risky.

"It was a bit rough, as you can see," Draco began. Finally, Snape stopped looking at the gnarly cuts on Draco's arm. "But it was my fault, really. I've never been… with another one before, I was… nervous… agitated." He timidly met Snape's gaze, who didn't look convinced. "I swear. It was me."

"Did you show this to Madam Pom—"

"As if," Draco interrupted him. He received such a cold look from Snape that he fell silent again. Harry was dying to see what was on Draco's arm, now.

"So, who took care of it?"

"I did," Draco whispered.

"How?" Snape insisted. Draco didn't look at him anymore, he just stared blankly at his injury. Snape had a passing thought. Did Draco steal what he had needed? Or was he trying to hide the fact that Lupin had taken care of him?

"He brought me what I needed but I did it," Draco confessed. He was fine hiding the truth as long as he wasn't being asked questions. But now, he couldn't possibly outright lie to his godfather, nor transform the truth.

Snape carefully grabbed Draco's wrist to take a closer look.

"Did you hurt him?" He asked. Draco grimaced and shrugged, his left hand under his forearm. Even if Snape was being careful, he could feel the pain reaching his elbow pit. He was so annoyed by the way Snape was examining the injury, too. He didn't answer, hoping Snape would revert his attention to him, which he did.

"Don't really know, don't really care…" he said, avoiding his gaze. Snape's insistent look on his face compelled him to finally say more. He knew which buttons to push, after all. Draco slowly raised his hand to place it on the left side of his chest. "There, I think."

He wasn't sure, yet he could feel the exact sensation of Lupin's skin ripping under his claws. The memory was vivid, enough to turn his stomach.

It was not only the first time he met and shared a cycle with another werewolf, it was the first time he had attacked another being. He was shaken to the core, even if he couldn't put his anguish into words.

"And—"

"Can we talk about this tomorrow, or… I don't know, some other day," Draco interjected again, "I really need to work. Unless you'd rather have the old McGonagall take points away because I didn't do my essay?"

"She knows the circumstances," Snape said coolly.

"And she knows how easily you take points away from Gryffindor so I don't think she will mind," Draco said sharply, "especially knowing that I've never handed my homework late because of that before."

Harry couldn't believe the way Draco was speaking to his Head of House.

"Watch your tone," Snape articulated, taking a step closer to the boy. Another one and he would have to push him out of his way. Harry couldn't see Malfoy, but he didn't think Draco could be looking Snape in the eye. However, Draco was. He would stand his ground, even if he appeared childish to Snape, even if he appeared a coward. He was tired of owing people explanations because of this, especially since the situation had been thrusted upon him. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was because he was growing up, or maybe it was just because things were piling up in his head and in his life, but he just couldn't do it anymore. While he did feel like a burden because of his condition, he had slowly been detaching himself from the hold it could give people on his existence. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, so he wouldn't. Surely, Snape could understand and accept that, even respect him for it.

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't want her to think I'm using all of this as an excuse," Malfoy concluded. Snape kept staring for a moment before he glanced down at Draco's arm again. And finally, he freed his wrist and backed away.

"Go. You will come see me tomorrow between classes."

Malfoy nodded before he turned away, ready to leave. A win was a win.

He reached Harry's level when he stopped, though. Harry didn't dare move back, afraid Draco had noticed something. When Malfoy turned around, he tried to peer at his arm but because of the shelf, he failed majestically.

"Did you hear? About Umbridge?" He asked Snape. Harry noticed the worried look he was giving their professor. It was an expression he had never seen on Draco's face. Fear, he had seen, but that wasn't exactly the same. There was a note of despair in his eyes.

"I did," Snape said, "your father sent me an owl," he added, to Harry's surprise. His voice had changed a little and when Harry glanced at him, he could see that Snape's expression was unfathomable, and his voice hadn't been as cold as it usually was.

"Yeah, Father told me about it in his last letter too…" He seemed to be thinking carefully about what to say next before he offered Snape another glance. "He said that I don't need to worry about it any way, given my situation. I don't know, I just think it sucks."

And without adding anything else, he turned around to leave. Harry couldn't wait, knowing that it would probably be his only chance to leave the room without being noticed. Snape didn't follow. When Harry glanced behind him, he was still looking at Draco, right through Harry.