CHAPTER SIX


A/N: Onwards... 100 followers already! I can't believe it! Thank you guys =) Hope this chapter counts as my thanks.


Harry woke slowly from the first dreamless sleep he had had in a long time.

It was still the middle in the night. He lifted his upper body off the mattress with his arms, peering around in the dark, unlit room. He flared his nostrils and strained his ears, trying to find what had woken him.

Nothing.

He could hear Ron and Hermione's heartbeats a few rooms away, and if he really tried, he could even hear Kreacher stumbling through the sitting room, cleaning up the mess left from Sirius's wine-cellar raid and grumbling to himself.

He sighed, letting his arms collapse beneath him and snuggling his face into his pillow.

The open window behind him shined suddenly, as a cloud from outside moved away from the moon.

Harry flinched, feeling the light rays across his back. Light had never been a sensation he could feel.

Until now.

Slowly he pulled himself up again and inched over to the end of his bed, eyes turned to the window where the near-full moon hung ominously.

One day left.

A chill rocked down his spine and he swore he felt something stir in his mind. Something dark and entirely unfamiliar.

He closed his green eyes, shaking his head lightly in an attempt to whisk away the feeling.

He leaned over to his bedside table, picking up his wand and giving it a wave, murmuring, "Tempus."

Four fifty-five.

He pushed himself to his feet, stretching his aching limbs up toward the ceiling.

He hadn't been meaning to fall asleep. Sleeping made time move much faster than being awake did, and he wanted every last hour of this that he could have.

This was normal. This was life. This was everything he understood already. Sure, the senses were new – the anger, the soreness.

But nothing had changed. Not really. He was still Harry, for now.

He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, knuckles pressing against the heavy purple shadows as he yawned. He pushed open the door of his room, creeping down the steps as gently as he could.

He walked into the kitchen toward the hiding place of the chocolate. He pulled open the hidden drawer, yanking out the last bar of Honeydukes. He tore the foil-covered chocolate bar in half, and wrapped the end of the foil over the other half, placing it back inside gently. In case Remus wants some, he thought, resisting the urge to take the whole thing anyway.

He began to make his way back up the steps when suddenly he found himself face to face with a dark figure.

Harry's jaw dropped and he reeled back, a growl ripping from his lips before he could respond in any normal way as he glared at the unknown person in the dark.

Ron held up his hands in front of him, eyes wide. "It's just me."

Harry dropped his wand-arm, not realizing he had targeted Ron until just then. His cheeks reddened in the dark and he looked away, stuffing his wand back into his robe pockets.

"Hi," he said stiffly to the red-head, making to step around him.

Ron blocked his path. "Listen, Harry, mate…" he started slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I just wanted to – to say," he hesitated, glancing away. "To say-"

"-It's fine," Harry said shortly, moving to step around him again. "Forget about it. I'm sorry for pushing you," he said monotonously.

"No, Harry, wait," Ron insisted. "Hermione said I had to do this, and she was right," he said sharply.

Harry looked back slowly, gave a stiff nod and sat down on the steps, giving the other wizard an expectant look.

Ron fidgeted. "I'm not going to say that... that things are going to be exactly the same," he admitted slowly. "But you're - we're still - we're still friends."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, taking in a deep breath. "Okay," he said finally. He looked down to his palms. "I forgive you, Ron."

"I was being a git, Hermione was right, and-"

"-It's good. We're fine, Ron. Thanks." Harry got to his feet and offered the redhead a tense smile. He turned, stepping back up the stairs and toward his bedroom.


"Come in," Harry snapped to the heartbeat outside the door the next morning. Sirius or Remus, if the rhythm was anything to go by.

Harry hadn't slept all night, and his eyes were burning furiously in protest. It didn't help that he was more tired than ever as the full moon drew near – not that staying up for days in a row had ever been easy.

Remus stepped inside, looking worse than the day prior as well. "Have you taken your p-"

"-No. I hate it. It makes me feel dreadful," Harry snarled, glaring up at the man, eyes bloodshot and face pale. "Did you need something?"

"Take the potion," Remus said stiffly, striding across the room and pulling the nearly-empty blue vial off of the bedside table and thrusting it into the younger wizard's hands.

"No," Harry snarled, dropping it on to the mattress and scooting away from it petulantly.

"Take the damn potion," Remus snarled back, tired eyes flashing as his face pinched with rage.

"No."

A growl shook Remus's form. "Do you know what I would have given to have had this potion when I first changed, Harry? Do you have any semblance of an idea?"

"You're not me-"

"-I suffered for years. I still do, when Snape doesn't make it for me." The older werewolf stepped forward, hand seeming to drift subconsciously across the scar marring the left side of his face. "Every month. I'd wake up covered in new souvenirs that never go away. They mark you for life. As if the monthly reminder wasn't enough, you see it every time you look in a mirror-"

"-I'm sorry Remus," Harry whispered, pulling his eyes away from the long, thin scar and picking up the vial he'd left on his bed.

The older werewolf was quiet as Harry downed the final section of the potion, grimacing as the flavor hit him and the potion worked its way through his body.

"I know it tastes awful," Remus said finally, eyes drifting closed as he sank into the seat by Harry's bed. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "It's not the flavor. It makes me feel... Off."

"Off?" Remus opened his eyes again, furrowing his eyebrows.

"My head feels heavy, and my thoughts get cloudy," Harry mumbled as just that began to happen. "And I feel – so weird," Harry murmured.

"That could just be the approaching moon," Remus offered. "It isn't known to sweeten one's temper," he admitted in a sheepish tone of voice, a small smile quirking up the corners of his lips.

Harry laughed, falling back on his bed and watching the dust fly up in the air around him, reflecting in the sunlight.

"You haven't been sleeping," Remus guessed.

Harry snorted with laughter. "How can you tell?"

Remus smiled. "You should try to rest. There's no avoiding it. I know it feels as if we just delay it long enough... but being exhausted will only make it harder on you."

Harry sighed, massaging his temples. "What, exactly... are we going to do?"

Remus paused, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative look. "The idea is," he began slowly, "We'll transform in separate rooms, and provided that the potion works as it should - we'll then... Go through the night. Sleep, I suppose. Though Sirius can be excitable."

"If it doesn't work?" Harry asked.

Remus frowned. "The odds of that are phenomenally low. But in that situation - werewolves are not typically aggressive to one another. We will work through it."

Harry closed his eyes, nodding. Something cold gripped his chest inside and he felt his heart jump twice in rapid succession. He blew out a breath he hadn't meant to hold.

"What about Sirius, if it doesn't work?"

"Sirius will be fine," Remus said firmly. "He isn't what you should be worrying about."

Harry nodded mutely.

"Come downstairs for dinner," Remus suggested gently.

"Everyone's gone," Harry murmured as he strained his hearing. It got easier to use the more he practiced. The house was devoid of the normal hum of sound from the Order members, and the softly beating hearts.

"Just trying to eliminate as much stress as possible," Remus said, attempting and failing to keep the stiffness out of his voice.

"Right," Harry said disbelievingly.

He rolled over, pulling his comforter over him and finally giving in to the heavy exhaustion.

"Wake me up when-"

"-Of course," Remus said gently, staggering to his own feet with a suppressed yawn. "Do you want dinner?"

"No."

Remus nodded and slowly extended a hand to Harry's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "It'll be okay Harry. You're not alone, and you're still you," he said.

Harry didn't respond and Remus pulled back, turning and heading toward the exit and shutting the door gently behind him.


Harry jerked into consciousness, breathing heavy and quick.

His green eyes darted left and right in the dimming room, and his eyes flicked to the window.

Dusk. The sun was just beginning to set.

He could feel tension ripple down his spine as his throat closed up. He pulled his knees up to his chest and scrunched his tired eyes closed as a shudder rocked him.

He tried to force his breathing to slow, coughing dryly every few seconds. He ran his fingers through his black locks and gave a slight tug.

He could feel something, quite literally, pacing in his mind. Memories flashed through his mind's eye.

Burning, white-hot pain. Slicing through his shoulder and into his bones, pumping through his very veins.

He could feel it now, the sting shooting through his veins. His head ached, throbbed and pulsed in time with his rapid heartbeat, blocking out all of the sounds and smells he had become accustomed to noticing.

"Oh god," he whispered hoarsely to himself, tightening the hands connected to his hair and resisting the urge to tug again. He forced his hands to unclench and fall to his side. Slowly, he lifted one, feeling for the cold sweat he swore he felt coming on.

"Harry?"

Harry jerked out of the tight ball he'd been curled up in, gracelessly falling off his bed and scrambling to his feet, maddened eyes wide.

Sirius's face hinted concern as he watched the boy. Harry licked his dry, cracked lips and tried again to steady his breathing.

"'Lo, Sirius," he whispered.

Sirius cracked a crooked smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Harry spat, temper flaring. Sirius knew how he felt. Did he need to rub it in? His eyes burned and began to water as a migraine flared behind them, and he closed them, resisting the urge to shake his head and aggravate the headache further.

Sirius's eyes widened minutely for just a second before a small frown ended the crooked grin. "I'd figure," he said lightly.

Harry staggered over toward the door, brushing past the taller man and attempting to squash the curling fear in his stomach.

"Are we going now?"

"If you're ready, yes," Sirius said gently. "Remus is waiting and setting things up, I believe. You can take a moment."

"No point," Harry said briskly. "Let's get this over with."


"Where are we going?" Harry asked as he inspected the broom that had just been handed to him.

"I got this property for Remus just after we got out of school," Sirius explained. "It can't be apparated to. I made sure of it. If I was able to apparate to it, there would be holes in the access - holes made specifically so I could be there, but still, when you put a hole in defensive magic you're weakening it. Besides, this gives me an excuse to make Remus fly there every time. I'm trying to convince him to enjoy flying."

Harry held back his opinion that maybe having him fly this night every month wasn't really sweetening him to the idea - Sirius seemed to think this was all great fun. The werewolf hopped on to his broom, sighing as his muscles twinged.

"Are you allowed to be out in the open like this?" Harry asked suddenly as Sirius climbed on to his own broom.

"I'm good with memory charms," he said dismissively.

Harry laughed, partially out of the sheer stress of the moment. "Right," he said with a chuckle, pushing off the ground and sucking in a deep breath of the fresh, night air.

"I've never seen you fly," Harry said thoughtfully. "Did you and-"

Sirius laughed as he pushed up toward the other. "James and I were the best Quidditch players Gryffindor had. James considered doing it professionally for a short while," he said thoughtfully, his face getting a far-away look to it as his voice trailed off.

"Race you there," Harry blurted, ignoring the fact that he had no idea how to get to where they were going.

Sirius's gaze flicked to his face coupled with a dangerous expression. Without a word, he took off, broom hissing as it split through the air, leaving a gust of wind in Harry's face.

The werewolf smiled, despite the slowly setting sun, and leaned close to his broom, taking off after the older wizard.


Harry was laughing and out of breath when the wizard in front of him finally came to a stop, cheerfully crowing about his victory.

"So slow," he said mockingly to the younger wizard, a wild grin lighting up his features. "Not good at all. Here I was expecting quite a show."

"I didn't know how to get here you- you-" Harry struggled, resisting the impulse to insult his godfather.

Sirius arched an eyebrow. "You really need practice in that area," he said wisely. "Can't even come up with a good insult."

Harry muttered under his breath and the grey-eyed wizard pulled out his wand, murmuring incantations as he waved it in an intricate pattern.

The dark, heavy-population of pine trees beneath Harry slowly began to fade, and his mouth dropped agape as a noticeably more open clearing, with a neat, Remus-esque cottage taking its place.

"It's beautiful," Harry said warmly, pushing his broom toward the ground and touching down slowly.

"Remus likes these sort of trees better," Sirius said, nodding to the white, flowering trees lining one corner of the clearing. "They're dogwood trees," he said proudly.

"Kousa Dogwood," Remus spoke up, leaning in the doorway of the cottage with a soft smile. "They're enchanted to always be in bloom."

Harry looked at the cheerful looking trees and smiled. "Aunt Petunia had a garden, but it was all sickishly pink flowers. No trees."

Remus offered a smile back, but it was clearly strained, his gaze flicking back up to the darkened sky.

"The fruit taste good," Sirius said, stepping forward and tearing off one of the ripe, red berry-like fruits.

Remus shuddered. "Sirius is lying. They're not the best," he said warningly.

Harry felt his stomach tighten suddenly as he went to respond and his breath caught in his throat. His gaze flicked to Remus who was cringing sympathetically and offering a sad smile.

Harry forced a calm breath, his head pulsing. The wolf seemed to be pacing inside his mind, waiting.

He glanced toward where the edge of the moon was hovering in the sky, waiting to rise.

Sirius strode over toward the cottage with Harry just behind him, and gave Remus an encouraging smile. Remus sighed, massaging his temples as a shudder rippled down his spine.

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy. Sirius transformed suddenly into a dog, pressing his nose into Remus's hand and wagging his tail.

Remus chuckled, patting him on the head. "There are wards all around here," he said, nodding to the clearing around them. "We can't get out - Sirius can - and no one else can get in. I think animals can, Sirius said it adds to the scenery. But humans shouldn't be able to sense us in any way, and should instinctively move away from the area. I prefer to sleep through the transformations," he said, looking tired as ever.

Harry nodded, tilting his head back to peer out at the now rising moon. "For some reason I expected this to be worse," he mused.

Remus laughed humorlessly. Sirius barked cheerfully, spinning in a circle. Harry smiled down at him.

"Padfoot has always thought it's great fun," he said, turning away with a sigh and heading deeper into the house.

Sirius changed back, smiling. "Remus used to think it could be a bit fun too," he said. "Then he got old."

Harry smiled hesitantly, feeling weak. He sank into a seat in the opening room, sighing.

"We're the same age," Remus snapped grumpily.

Sirius laughed, changing back into Padfoot and darting around the room.

Harry's green eyes, previously pinched in a smile, widened suddenly. He sat upright, swearing that every neuron in his body fired at once in that instance.

The full moon hung bright in the sky.


Draco Malfoy stood in a darkened corridor of Malfoy Manor, tension tangible in the very air.

He was dressed in a dark, black suit, with a matching tie and undershirt. His face was pale, grey eyes bloodshot with exhaustion in the dark as he leaned by the door of the dining room.

"The boy was bit?"

"What are we to tell him?"

"Perhaps he'll be pleased-"

"-No, you fool-"

"-It would be wise not to eavesdrop, Draco."

Draco jerked away from the door, eyes widening with horror before he let out a shaking sigh of relief, shoulders collapsing. It was only Snape. He repressed the warmth he felt at the sight of his godfather, anxiety forcing him to glance up, eyes filled with suspicion.

"Don't tell me what to do," he said lowly, flexing his jaw.

Snape's expression remained impassive.

"Your mother has become concerned for your safety," he spoke in a low, quick monotone. "The Dark Lord is planning something. You will be relocating in hopes of remaining in the back of his mind."

"You can't take me from my home," Draco snapped, hands curling into fists as he glared down at the man.

He had overtaken him in height in the summer months, he was pleased to note. Snape blinked at him as if he were Harry Potter on a particularly slow day in potions.

"It was not an option."

He grabbed the blond by the wrist and spun, the two disappearing in silent dissaparation.


Draco found himself in an unfamiliar house and room, filled with heavy, old, leather furniture. Bookcases lined every wall.

Standing near the door was his mother, whose face filled with elation at the sight of him. She stepped forward, pale face having aged more in the past four years than one would think was possible. She looked nearly frail and Draco stood stiff as a board as she reached forward, embracing him warmly.

He finally relented, returning the hug gently and sighing, his normally impassive or angry expression dropping into one of soft stress and sadness.

"You have to go Draco, I'm sorry," she whispered.

He dropped his arms, moving away from the hug. "I'm not leaving you," he said harshly, hands curling into fists and grey eyes narrowing. His father might have given up - he might be Voldemort's puppet - but Draco wasn't.

Her blue-grey eyes looked suspiciously moist and she reached up a hand, brushing at her eyelashes gently and smiling. "I love you, Draco," she said in a rare, open sign of affection. "But I'm not asking you to do this for yourself. I'm asking this for me. Please. You can return home in time, just go with Severus for now. I worry-"

"-Fenrir bit someone, didn't he?" Draco asked, mind flicking back to the partially overheard conversation. "Someone important. You're worried that the - the Dark L- that he'll be mad. Why would he be angry? How was Dad involved?"

She shook her head. "It's better there are things you don't know, Draco," she said gently, expression tense.

"Why can't you tell me?" he demanded. "If you're trying to protect me, it's a little too late for that," he snapped. He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes and quickly banishing the memories threatening the forefront of his mind.

"Knowledge has a price," Snape said coldly from where he stood, dark eyes narrowed.

Draco cleared his mind as best he could as the dark gaze bored into his own, blanking his mind.

"I can handle myself."

Snape frowned, blinking and nodding, breaking eye contact. "You've been practicing. Well done," he said in a clipped tone. "That doesn't change that we're leaving."

Draco sighed, hands running up and through his hair of their own accord, mussing the usually carefully-combed style into a near-white mess.

"You won't be coming with us?" Draco guessed, looking up to his mother.

She shook her head, cupping his cheek gently with a smile. "I'll visit. And you will be home as soon as this all dies down. I promise you."

Draco swallowed, nodding slowly. "Okay," he croaked, scrubbing his face with both hands and nodding through the movement. He dropped his hands to his side, turning to look at Snape. "This isn't the place, I'd guess?"

"No, it isn't," he said. He extended his arm, normally impassive face showing a small degree of sympathy as the blond shot his mother one last hesitant look.

"Take care of him Severus," Narcissa whispered.

Draco bristled as he settled his hand on to the older wizard's arm.

Snape nodded, and the two disappeared once again.


"This is it?" Draco drawled as the two apparated to the outside of a simple cottage surrounded by a dark forest. A cobblestone path led up to the front.

"It's a safe house, not a manor," Snape replied, walking up the path and waving his wand, testing the defenses.

Draco frowned thoughtfully, looking the cottage up and down.

He glanced up to the sky, and noted the full moon. A shudder raced down his spine as he imagined Fenrir right now.

He suddenly felt a swell of gratitude at being forced to leave the manor.

Draco stepped inside the house after the other, shutting the door slowly. "How long will I be here?"

"That has yet to be decided. I assure you, it will not be long."

"Will I spend Christmas at home?" he asked, walking past the sofa and peering out the window into the dark woods, a curious smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"Naturally," Snape murmured.

Draco walked over to a nearby bookshelf, pulling out a book on werewolves and grimacing at the cover.

Snape disappeared up the steps of the house and Draco watched him leave with an uncaring shrug. He sank into one of the nearby chairs with the book, scowling at it hatefully.

Fenrir and his pack had been around the manor more and more lately. It was nauseating. Fenrir had taken a keen interest in tormenting Draco. Lucius did his best to keep out of his way.

Draco sighed, feeling some of the stress from the past few months beginning to melt. He whistled quietly, lifting his head.

Perfidis - a large eagle owl familiar who had been in the family for years - darted into the room, fluffing his wings importantly as he perched on the armrest next to the boy.

Draco stroked the owl absent-mindedly as he reached over to the writing desk nearby, taking out a quill and some spare parchment.

"I need you to get this to Blaise," Draco explained to the owl as he began to write. "But it needs to be indirect. Carry it a few miles, double back, get tree coverage. Trade off to another owl if there are any you trust in doing this. Confirm he gets the letter before returning. I've addressed it incorrectly, but you know Blaise Zabini."

The owl hooted in confirmation, sticking out his leg impatiently as Draco rolled up the parchment and waved his wand to place a seal. He wrapped it gently around the owl's leg, nodding his thanks and patting the owl's soft feathers.

The giant owl lifted up off the perch and hovered as Draco pushed open the window. It flew out, wings silent against the bracing wind outside.

Draco took a deep breath and felt a pang of longing. Walks around the manor had been prohibited ever since the Death Eaters had made the manor their base.

He bit his lip contemplatively, pushing the window closed again and peering curiously at the dark staircase where Snape had disappeared to.

I'll just take a quick walk, he won't even know I'm missing, Draco thought confidently, nodding to himself as he pushed off of the chair and toward the door.

He shut it behind him, and took off at a brisk jog down the stone path, his animagus transformation shimmering his form briefly.

A brilliant arctic wolf stood where the white-blond had once been. The wind ruffled his thick fur and he turned his nose up to the sky, his grey eyes reflecting the moon.

He took off, not wanting the pursuit of the wizard in the cottage to come too soon. He pushed his legs forward, into the forest. Four paws hit the hard, dry ground in a low, rhythmic pattern.


The pain all over his body slowly beginning to ebb, Harry instinctively got to his... paws.

Four paws.

He took in a deep breath, and the smells that were normally so overwhelming in his human form seemed crisper but easier to manage in this mind. He turned his head right, and then to the left, taking in the strange sights around him.

He took a tentative step forward before stumbling pathetically, a little unsure how to work his new limbs.

A sandy-furred wolf caught his attention at the end of the room, posture tired as he peered in hesitantly.

Remus, Harry reminded his slow-moving brain, struggling to his paws again. He let out an awkward, low bark that didn't sound right coming from his vocal chords. Maybe wolves didn't bark.

An answering bark from a massive black dog that appeared at the sandy wolf's side startled the green-eyed werewolf. He flared his nostrils, drawing in the scents before nodding encouragingly.

The dog - whose size Harry hadn't really appreciated in human form - bounded forward, tail wagging playfully. The sandy wolf pinned its ears but Harry leaned forward eagerly, sniffing the black dog. It barked again, bounding in a circle around him.

Harry struggled to a standing position once more, finally beginning to figure out how to work four legs at once. He lowered his chest to the ground, preparing to pounce at the taunting black dog.

His mind felt clear and light. Lighter than it ever had, unable to focus on deep, human-like emotions. He knew he felt happy, though. He recognized Sirius and Remus, and felt no small amount of warmth in their company.

The 'wolf', as Harry had dubbed the dark weight that seemed to loom in his mind the entire week leading up to the transformation, even now seemed mysteriously gone.


Draco pushed through the forest, further and further from the cottage, the ground vanishing under his large strides. He stopped suddenly, taken by impulse and threw his head back into the sky, loosing a lonely howl as he thought of his home.

He threw himself forward again, bounding through the forest. He wondered how far he could run.

When would he need to stop? He could keep going forever. Being an unregistered animagus had its perks. He could live the rest of his life never having to deal with Voldemort, or the Death Eaters, ever again.

He shook the cowardly thoughts out of his head, slowing to a light trot forward, paws moving silently over the leaf-ridden ground. It was hard on his animagus's mind to deal with the deep, human-esque thoughts.

He watched a rabbit startle nearby, racing away from the large, snowy-white predator.

As he continued to walk forward, he suddenly found himself turning around, heading back toward the cottage.

He really wanted to go back to the cottage.

No, no he didn't. He wanted to go on a walk.

Draco forced his paws to a stop and felt within his mind, feeling a forceful presence shoving him away from the direction he'd been walking.

He recognized it as defensive wall magic, like what was used against muggles on the Leaky Cauldron.

He forced his legs in the direction he'd been going. The force of the magic was nearly dizzying but he pressed onward.

And then, he heard it.

A wolf was howling. A cheerful, short howl. A dog barked in return. There was some panting, the sound of paws digging into the hard earth as they raced forward.

Draco took a few curious steps forward without thinking. There was the sound of snuffling, but nothing was visible. He took a few steps forward and-

The forest in front of him fizzled from view. He found himself standing at the edge of a clearing. It was very large, with quite a bit of running room. An orchard of dogwood trees stood between him and the cottage that he could barely make out.

A massive black wolf stood before him, and Draco bristled, grey eyes widening.

The raven-black wolf had vibrant, expressive green eyes, and a strangely short muzzle. He was perhaps an inch shorter than Draco - or a bit less - but more muscular, with a lower-swung front and larger paws.

Draco felt his body lock into place as shock consumed him. He didn't dare risk a glance at the surely-taunting full moon.

It wasn't a wolf.

The werewolf stepped toward him curiously, its nose extended. It gave him an almost appreciative sniff. Its ears were lifted, shoulders squared much like Draco's, tail wagging slightly.

Draco stiffened, his tail lifting and his ears pointed sharply forward. The werewolf lowered its ears and tail slightly in response, but its eyes were still lit with a sort of wonder and curiosity.

Draco sniffed the inquisitive muzzle curiously, his posture beginning to relax. The two curiously drew in each other's scents, whiskers brushing.

The werewolf carried a strong scent of magic. But then, Draco had never smelled a werewolf, so perhaps that was just how they were. On top of that, he carried a light scent like a fall breeze, crushed leaves and a sweet sort of spice like pumpkin, with hints of firewood on a cool day. Draco let his grey eyes drift closed as his wolf committed it to memory.

The werewolf licked at his nose and Draco jumped back, head held high. The werewolf threw his head back and gave a playful howl, before looking inquisitively to Draco, as if expecting him to do it in return.

Draco stared at the werewolf for a long moment. His green eyes were hauntingly familiar, but as hard as he tried in his wolf's mind, he couldn't place it. Not wanting to insult the creature by ignoring his gesture, Draco tipped his head back and gave a low howl in return.

The raven-black werewolf seemed greatly amused or pleased by this, and he dropped his front to the ground, expression playful. His ears were slightly laid back, his forehead smoothed with slightly raised brows. His muzzle was relaxed, his jaw slightly dropped agape with his fur lying flat. His tail was a bit higher, wagging slightly back and forth.

Draco slowly mirrored the gesture, and the werewolf seemed overwhelmingly pleased. He lunged forward, prodding Draco's shoulder with his nose before bounding off a short distance.

Draco hesitated before following after him, trying to keep the tense wariness out of his posture. He leaped forward playfully with a false growl and the werewolf yipped in response, wheeling to face him. He licked at Draco's muzzle, and Draco pinned his ears, leaning away from the contact stiffly.

The werewolf's ears turned sideways and he took another step forward, peering very seriously into Draco's grey eyes.

Draco felt a moment of panic. He didn't know how werewolves responded to animagi. Would he attack if he realized Draco wasn't a real wolf? He tried to calm his growing fear, knowing it would show in his scent and posture. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond to the lick positively or negatively, but he was getting the feeling his response hadn't been quite right.

Before things could advance past that, from the orchard appeared two large, canine figures. Draco stiffened, pulling himself up high and his fur bristling at the sight.

The werewolf turned to face the two, who began approaching quickly. He wagged his tail in greeting, and turned back to look at his newfound friend.

Draco took off, darting back through the barrier and away from sight as quickly as he could.


Harry watched his strange wolf friend disappear from view and felt a pang of sadness.

The wolf had been strange to interact with, sure. Maybe he could tell that Harry wasn't very good at wolf socialization yet. Licking his nose hadn't felt like a bad move, though.

It had seemed to upset him all the same. There was also the question of what exactly an arctic wolf was doing in this part of England?

But then again, Harry didn't know a whole lot about wolves. Maybe it had been a magical variation of a wolf. That would make sense. Or a normal wolf that had some sort of spell cast over it that gave it a weird set of eyes and a flashy coat.

Harry liked his smell. He was sure he'd never forget it. It was the wind on a Quidditch field, the taste of a Snitch, a hint of magic, and sweet winter mints, softer and less abrasive than peppermints but with a lasting chill.

Sirius and Remus approached, looking thoroughly on edge, and Harry flopped sadly on to the ground on his stomach, sighing.

He glared at the two, somehow knowing it was their fault that the wolf had ran off. Sirius returned the glare playfully while Remus stared off into the distance, drawing in slow, contemplative breaths and flaring his nostrils.

The sandy werewolf shook his head, stretching his legs forward and giving a yawn. He shot the black dog next to him a glare.

Sirius stepped around Harry's unmoving figure and narrowed his eyes as he drew in the scent on the ground, inhaling and exhaling in quick succession.

Remus barked suddenly, drawing the attention of the two other canines. He nodded up to the sky, and Harry turned up his head.

Dawn was breaking.