Thanks so much for your wonderful comments!
Right now the consensus seems to be for a little Blaise and Neville action-probably with how little time there is just barely venturing past preslash, but I'd still love to hear what anyone thinks if you haven't said!

Warning: N/A

Chapter 5- Helped

Draco was pacing. Back and forth, staring up at the door in front of him as if it would open and just decide for him. He didn't even know what he was doing there. It was a terrible idea.

He was out of better ideas.

The first day of classes had been terrible. The two classes he'd had with Harry, and Harry wasn't speaking to him—barely looking at him. Draco couldn't exactly blame him. When he'd finally had the nerve to show up in their room last night—after three days of sleeping in his own room—well, the private room he still technically had access to but hadn't slept in the entire summer anyway—he'd found the place empty.

He dreaded to think of where Harry was. Sleeping in the Gryffindor commons, the silencing spell cast around him to keep them from hearing his night terrors. Lurking in the woods, his Animagus curled up in a tree listening to animals pass under him. More than likely he was somewhere secluded in the castle, like the Astronomy Tower, not sleeping, because like Draco, he didn't know how to sleep alone anymore.

Draco sighed, stopping in the middle of the corridor and staring at his father's door. He needed to just knock. He needed to just ask. He couldn't take being afraid much longer. He couldn't take how he was hurting Harry with his fear much longer.

Besides the fact that the change was next week, and he had no idea what he was going to do if he didn't get himself under control by then. He couldn't change without Harry. The one time he'd done that, Lupin had been there, and it had been wild and exciting and dangerous and—

He could still remember waking up and finding blood in his hair. The fear that he'd hurt someone while he'd been out of control. And that was all he needed for his dreams to shoot through his mind again. The pictures of him feral and threatening to anyone who came close. Even Harry.

Especially Harry.

Draco straightened his shoulders and faced his father's door. He couldn't keep doing this. He needed to get himself under control, even if it meant going to the person he really didn't want to. One step toward his father's door, two, three. He raised his hand to knock and hesitated.

Merlin, what would his father think of him? His father who had never cared for the werewolf side of him to begin with. What was he doing?

Too late. The door to his father's private rooms opened under his hand, and Lucius was suddenly standing in front of him, one eyebrow raised as if he wasn't in the least surprised to find Draco standing there.

"So, you've experience panic attacks?" the healer—Harry didn't bother to remember her name—asked him. It seemed like a stupid question to him. Of course, he experienced panic attacks. Why else was he here?

"Doesn't everyone?" he answered, staring out the window of her office. He had to admit that she had a somewhat decent view. It overlooked the center of St. Mungo's; the courtyard already filling with leaves and cold.

"More people than you'd think," She smiled at him, and he could feel the condescension in her eyes.

He hated this. He hated that Severus had suggested it. He hated that he'd agreed. He hated that he needed it.

"And you have nightmares too?" she asked. He didn't bother to answer. It was in his file. He'd already filled out why he was here. Why he was still bothering to spill his guts to her when she already knew? Was there really a point in pretending he wanted to talk?

It was his first time coming here. He had no idea how Severus had managed to talk St. Mungo's into fitting him in so fast. Didn't much care. All he knew was one minute he was in Severus' office, the next he was being pushed through the Floo and landing in the healer's office.

"Do you want to tell me what these nightmares are about?" she asked, staring at him. Blatantly waiting for an answer.

He knew if it had been Severus or Draco looking at him like with expectant eyes, only looking to help—he would have avoided the subject. He would have skirted the topic. Yes, they would have been hurt, disappointed. But he wouldn't have lashed out, not the way he wanted to with her.

But she had been poking and prodding him for almost an hour now, and he could feel the annoyance at the edge of his consciousness. The anger that was always there and always so hard to reach. And he just wanted to burn her, send her tumbling away from him before she could really start to dig into him, before she could ask him something that he would have to answer.

"Not to you," he muttered, glaring out her window.

"It's alright to be angry, you know," she told him, her voice annoyingly steady, calm.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Then why don't you tell me?" she asked, and he ignored her. Which was apparently exactly what she'd been expecting because she just kept talking as if she'd never asked a question, which was somehow more infuriating than if he'd just given in and said something, anything.

"Emotions are what keep us human," she said. "They keep us alive."

"I managed fine before," he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. She just raised an eyebrow at him. She didn't seem surprised. He supposed she must have looked at his file before she saw him. She really was just playing dumb at the beginning.

"Disassociation and apathy aren't living, Harry," she answered. "They're being trapped in your own head."

"It's better than the alternative," he muttered; he wasn't talking to her. Not really. But she answered like he was anyway.

"Do you really believe that?" she asked him, and he raised his head, looking at her raised eyebrow. At the way she was staring at him. And he turned away from her again.

The truth was that he didn't know the answer. He didn't like getting hurt. He hated it. He had gone without letting himself open to being hurt by others for so long, he felt open, exposed, venerable every time he thought someone was just a little too close.

But he could also remember the horrible coldness of the apathy. The way he'd pretended to be angry, because he'd been incapable of feeling anything else. Of pretending to feel anything else. The way Draco had come and shattered his world into tiny pieces. And it had been terrifying but at least he'd felt alive.

"Harry, I want you to do something for me," she said. He glared across at her. "I want you to think of 10 things you love and 10 things you hate."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to realize that there's nothing wrong with caring about things," she answered, and she said it so seriously. As if it could possibly be true.

"You want to what?" Lucius answered, and he was trying to sound calm. He truly was, but when his son came to him talking about werewolf problems and asking to talk to enemies that had tried to kill them, it was harder than he cared to admit.

"Father, I need to do this," Draco answered. He was staring down at the tea in his hands, and he suddenly looked so young. He had bags under his eyes from how he hadn't been sleeping, his hair a mess, his shoulders pulled into his body. Lucius hated to admit it, but whatever was going on, it was really bothering Draco.

Bothering him in a way that Lucius didn't understand.

"I don't understand why you think he can help you," Lucius sighed, cradling his own tea between his fingers. Focusing on the tea between his hands so as to keep his voice neutral, even, unemotional.

"He said he could… before."

"Before he was arrested, you mean?" Lucius asked.

"I need answers," Draco said, raising his head to look up at Lucius. "And I think he might have them." This time his gaze was determined. He looked like Narcissa when he stared like that, hard steel and resolve. Draco had always been softer than Lucius. Both he and Narcissa had known that from the beginning, but it hadn't been until recently that Lucius could see the fire that Narcissa had always seen in him.

"Alright," Lucius answered. He set his tea on the table beside his chair, and reached over, resting his hand on Draco's forearm. Draco looked up at him with surprise—whatever poker face Lucius had been able to instill in him was now effectively gone after spending so much time with Harry. "You can always ask me, Draco," he said, and he silently hoped that Draco got his message.

"What?" Severus asked and as soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Scrimgeour smiled thinly at him, all threat and judgment, as if he didn't know that what he had just said was complete lie.

"I said, you may have the rest of the staff under you belt, Snape, but Mr. Adarins remains loyal to the Ministry, and he has reported some scandalous activity going on under the roof of Hogwarts."

"What activity?" Severus answered, forcing his back straight in the Headmaster chair as Scrimgeour paced in front of him. He knew—he knew—Scrimgeour couldn't have anything real on him or he'd already have sent him to Azkaban, or at the very least have thrown him out of Hogwarts. Draco and Lucius with him. "I know of no such activity."

"I wonder if that makes it better or worse," Scrimgeour said. "You claim innocence but that just makes you incompetent, Snape."

"Headmaster Snape, if you don't mind," he corrected. The Minister just turned his face away, the sneer already forming on his lips.

"Mr. Adarins has told me that he's seen Mr. Potter leaving your room in the early mornings. Before curfew."

"As I'm sure you're aware, Potter is in my care," Severus answered, and he tried to keep the snap out of his voice, especially when the Minister turned back toward him with knowing eyes, cold and triumphant.

"Having a relationship with a student is-."

"There is no relationship besides the one we've had for years," Severus interrupted. "The one where I've raised him."

"So, you and Potter's recent activities have nothing to do with your rejecting Malfoy's advances?" Scrimgeour asked, looking pointedly at Severus finger. Severus shifted. He still had yet to put on Lucius' ring, but that had nothing to do with Harry, nothing to with his relationship to Harry. As if he—they were…they idea that anyone could suggest that he would take advantage of Harry after everything—

"It has nothing to do with Potter and the young Draco Malfoy's failing relationship?" Scrimgeour asked, his eyes blazing with triumph.

"This line of questioning is entirely inappropriate," Severus answered; he could feel the muscles along his back bunch together in frustrated tense as he internally panicked. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to pull himself out of this one. Years of being a spy for the Dark Lord, training his mind for lies and speaking half-truths, and the Minister had caught him in something so foolishly false. "I am not in a romantic relationship with anyone besides Lucius Malfoy."

"Speaking of Draco Malfoy," Scrimgeour continued. "I've heard quite a few rumors about how out of control he is during a full moon."

"One shouldn't listen to rumors," Severus told him, and he knew the stiffness of his voice wasn't helping anyone.

"Adarins has told me that the young Malfoy has almost killed Mr. Potter twice on a full moon. He's ended up with scaring and in the infirmary because of it."

"That is incorrect," Severus answered.

"Oh?" Scrimgeour asked, and Severus could tell by his smile that he knew he'd caught him. Severus couldn't exactly say Draco had only nearly killed him once.

"It is."

"Ah," Scrimgeour said. "Not to mention the mental damage I'm told he's done on Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley and Zabini. I hear they were also attacked by him."

"They had ventured into the Forbidden Forest against the rules," Severus answered tightly.

"I see," Scrimgeour said. "Well, I'm sure there's more that I'm forgetting."

"I'm sure," Severus said, but he was already heading toward the Floo, pinching a generous amount of powder as he made to step away.

"So, I'll be seeing you, Snape," he said, and Severus didn't bother to answer before he flicked the Floo powder into the fire and stepped through.

He didn't move once Scrimgeour was gone, his back so straight against his chair it was beginning to hurt, his hands digging into the wood of his desk. He couldn't believe he had let this happen. He had known Adarins was a threat, and he had just let him walk around the school without bothering to do anything about it.

He stared across the room, his eyes moving from the fire grate to the entrance to his office. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed help. He would have to ask Lucius. Again. Lucius, who he had already asked too much of and given nothing in return. He reached down, his fingers closing around the ring sitting on his desk, the Malfoy symbol engraved along the side.

No wonder Lucius wanted something from him when all Severus did was take.

"Draco," his father's voice sounded in the dark around them, his hand closing around Draco's shoulder. He didn't bother to ask if Draco was sure, if he wanted to go back. In Lucius' mind, Malfoy's didn't show weakness like that. But the message was there all the same.

"I'm fine, Father," Draco answered, and Lucius let him go, stepping away from the door in front of them. They'd already talked about whether he should go inside with Draco or not, and Draco had been adamant enough that Lucius had agreed to not to.

He knew his father had pulled a lot of strings to get this to happen. To get a prisoner out of Azkaban if only for a few minutes, if only to talk to a young, confused werewolf. Draco took a breath before he pushed the door open, shutting it firmly behind him.

Lupin was in chains in front of him, his eyes sunken in, bags heavy under his eyes. He looked emaciated, horribly skinny, and Draco couldn't help the sense of satisfaction that ran through him at sight. After all the manipulation Lupin pulled on him, all the hate he'd directed at Harry, he deserved to suffer.

"Draco," Lupin asked, his voice a low rasp between them.

"I need to ask you something," Draco answered. He didn't bother to say hello. It wasn't as if this was a social visit. He could have gone his whole life without seeing Lupin again, without hearing his voice.

It was just that he didn't know who else to ask.

Yes, I know. *sigh* They're all idiot. Well, we should be seeing a little more fluff next chapter as things begin to tie themselves up!
Also, there will be no chapter next week as it's Thanksgiving week for me and I will be home. To those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, happy early Thanksgiving, and I'll see you the week after!