CHAPTER NINE


A/N: Onwards...


"Good morning, Harry," Madam Pompfrey said in surprise as Harry walked into the empty Hospital Wing the next morning, looking tired. "Sleep well?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Didn't get to sleep," he admitted, heaving a sigh and rubbing at his eyes.

She walked toward him and waved her wand rather quickly, glancing him up and down and humming thoughtfully.

"Everything seems to be in order," she said warmly, patting him on the arm. "I didn't expect you to be up so early," she admitted.

Harry nodded slowly before letting his eyes drift closed and yawning. "I still don't feel very well. Going to go sleep in, or something. Glad it's Sunday."

She nodded. "How are the scars healing?"

He smiled. "You can't tell they're new at all," he said warmly. "Oh, Madam Pompfrey," he said suddenly. "Last night's transformation was more... difficult, than the last one. Is that normal?"

She frowned. "Difficult how?"

Harry shrugged. "More painful, I think. And I felt like the wolf was sort of… pushier. I don't really know how to explain it," he said slowly.

She frowned, nodding thoughtfully. "There are more difficult transformations than others," she said. "It's probably just because you were in a new area without the support of Sirius and Remus. If it keeps getting worse, we'll look into it."

He nodded. "You're probably right, thanks Madam Pompfrey," he said tiredly as he turned away, rubbing at the scar on his forehead with a yawn.

"Get some rest," she ordered as she turned back around.

He let the door shut quietly behind him and started down the corridor toward the Gryffindor common room.


"Quidditch try-outs today!" Pansy squealed, clapping her hands together as Draco approached.

He smiled, nodding to the witch as he swung into the seat across from her and stifled a yawn. "Blaise, have you seen Potter?" he asked as he glanced over to the Gryffindor table.

"No, guess he's still visiting his aunt," the boy said distractedly as he crumpled up a letter from home, tossing it toward his bag.

"Why are you so preoccupied with Potter this year?" Pansy snapped irritably.

Hannah Pugh coughed to cover up a laugh. Everyone but Pansy seemed aware that Draco's obsession with Harry was anything but a new development.

Draco turned a glare to her. "Because if Potter misses try-outs, then there's no way for him to be on the Quidditch team this year. That is somewhat important to someone of an opposing team," he said coldly.

She flushed, mumbling incoherently as she picked up a pastry from a nearby tray.

Draco glanced over to Blaise, feeling a stab of concern as he watched the wizard stare blankly at his empty plate.

"Letter from home?" he asked, looking to where the crumpled paper had missed his bag and fallen on the floor.

Blaise jumped as if startled, dark eyes widening. He bent over, picking up the discarded letter and setting it ablaze with a quiet incendio.

"Yeah," he said dismissively. "Dad's died."

Draco nodded and Daphne Greengrass sat upright, eyes wide in horror. "That's horrible, Blaise, I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

He laughed, shaking his head with a forced smile. "No big deal," he said cheerfully. "It's the – what is it, Draco?"

"Fifth time," he responded

Blaise nodded, forcing a broad smile.

Daphne blinked, not understanding, but Blaise didn't seem interested in enlightening her. He jumped to his feet. "Draco, would you help me with my Potions homework?" he asked sharply.

The blond nodded, gathering up his things and leaving his unfinished plate. "Sure, I have some time before the match," he answered, repressing a yawn as he started out of the Hall, Blaise at his side.


Harry hummed, licking out the insides of a chocolate truffle in boredom. He watched the light filter through the thin circle at the top of it, and covered it up with his finger a few times.

He'd occasionally get up and think about doing something, only to be reminded by the seizing pain in his limbs that life just wasn't that accommodating.

He sat upright slowly when the door of his dorm slammed open to reveal Ron, fully decked out in a Quidditch outfit.

"Oh, hey Ron," Harry said, flopping back to his bed with a sigh and reaching for another truffle.

"Oh – Harry! – hey – um, you're back!" he said, pitch high.

Harry made an agreeable noise as he tore the chocolate in half this time, watching it pull cleanly into two, even halves. He carefully removed the inside of half of the truffle before smiling, and holding up the emptied half proudly.

"Doesn't it look sort of like a chocolate helmet for mice?"

"Oh, uh, yeah! It looks great, Harry," Ron said encouragingly as he fumbled for something in his trunk.

Harry sat up again, grimacing at the twinge in his ribs. "Where are you going?" he asked, looking the redhead up and down as if just now noticing his outfit. He popped the chocolate into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Ron's face turned an interesting color of pink and Harry frowned, tilting his head.

"I'm-I'm going to try out for Quidditch," he said in barely more than a whisper.

"What?" Harry asked, eyes flying wide.

"Quidditch, I'm going to try out for Quidditch. Katie said she needed a Keeper, and I was thinking, well you know."

"Try-outs are today?" Harry asked.

Ron gave him a red-faced look of stress before nodding stiffly.

"Oh, shoot," Harry said with a frown. "Guess I need to get ready then – hey! Ron! You're trying out!" he said suddenly, leaping to his feet. "That's fantastic!"

Ron flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "Oh Merlin," he groaned, flopping into his seat. "No, no, Harry, I should back out. Oh this will be embarrassing," he groaned.

Harry frowned as he rifled through his own things, pulling out his Quidditch attire. He walked over to the redhead and patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do brilliant, Ron, come on. Now let's go, shall we? Oh," he stopped suddenly, swaying in place and clutching his stomach.

"Are you sure you're fit for it today?" Ron asked worriedly, getting to his feet, eyebrows pressed together in concern.

"Oh, yeah, just too much chocolate," Harry lied, repressing a yawn and straightening back up with a shake of his head. "Right, well – what are we waiting for, then? We've got try-outs!"

He stomped over toward the bathroom, willing himself not to walk into the doorframe with how unbalanced he felt. His vision was dark around the edges as he slammed the door shut behind him. "Meet you down at the pitch," he called through the door.

"Okay – uh, Harry, are you sure you're up for it?" Ron's voice rang uncertainly underneath the door.

"Merlin's sake yes Ron, now kindly stop being a Hermione and go," Harry snapped as he supported himself against the counter of the bathroom, breathing uneven as he let his eyes drift closed.

He waited for the sound of Ron's footsteps leaving the dorm before he blew out a slow, steadying breath.

His stomach churned and his gaze flicked hesitantly over to the toilet as his body seemed to contemplate being ill, before the feeling passed. He sighed heavily, shoulders caving inward as the tension dissipated.

He used one hand to rub at his forehead as he slowly let his eyes crack open again and stood up, squaring his shoulders and peering in the mirror.

He looked pale. Purple shadows were dark under his eyes which were puffy to begin with. His lips looked dried and he thought he looked a bit thinner than usual in the face. He offered himself a weak smile.

He rolled his head back on his neck, listening to the resounding cracks and heaving a sigh at the sore twinge. He reached up a hand, squeezing the muscles on the back of his neck and letting his eyes drift closed.

Stupid moon, he thought grumpily.

He pointed his wand at himself in the mirror and began casting the few concealment charms he knew.


"Potter's got a glamour on," Blaise said suddenly.

Draco jumped as if startled from a trance, turning to face the other Slytherin with a frown. "What?" he asked, glancing down to said-wizard from the stands.

Blaise nodded to Harry, who was leaning heavily on his broomstick as he waited for his turn. Ginny Weasley had just finished hers - she had tried out for substitute Seeker.

Blaise pulled his gaze away from the girl as she shook her long, red hair out of her helmet and focused on the irritable looking black-haired wizard. "I can tell. Mum wears them all the time. He's covering something up. Something big, nothing like a spot or anything."

Draco frowned, leaning down and looking into the pitch. He could barely see the wizard from there, so he just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back.

"I made the team again," the grey-eyed wizard said off-handedly.

"Congratulations. Any reason you're sitting out here watching Gryffindor try-outs?"

Draco smirked, and resisted the urge to ask the other the same question. "The Weasel's trying out, I heard. Wanted a good laugh."

"Sure it isn't because you get to see Potter fly?" he asked curiously.


Why the hell can't they find something better to do? Harry thought angrily, resisting the urge to shoot a glance up to where the two Slytherins sat in the stands.

"-Harry!" Katie's snarl startled him from his thoughts, forcing him to jerk upright.

"Yes?" he asked slowly, frowning at the girl's frazzled expression.

"Do you want to try out, or not? Because if not, get off the pitch," she snapped hotly, eyes flashing.

Harry took in a slow breath, ignoring the pounding in his head and nodded slowly. "Right, yeah, okay, no – I want to try out. Let's go, then," he said. He swung his leg over the edge of his broom and kicked off, nodding to the girl.

She released the snitch without preamble, glaring at him as he waited for it to fly off.

"Ten second wait?"

"Yes, yes. Go now, go! It's been close enough!"

Harry nodded, ignoring her impatience and turning his head toward the sky, his broom shooting after a distant glitter of gold.

Werewolf eyesight doesn't hurt, he mused. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment as he reached just below the cloud level, the wind ruffling his hair lightly. It wasn't fun if he could see it right away.

He drew in the scents up there heavily, and immediately pinpointed the direction of the metallic snitch. He turned his broom towards it, lying flat against it as he shot forward.

Surely enough, the golden snitch buzzed just a little below him when he finally slowed down and let his eyes flick open again. He looked down at it, feeling a grin curve up the corners of his mouth as he spiraled into a dizzying dive.

The snitch seemed startled by the descending Seeker, clearly not expecting to have been found so easily, and immediately bolted, whizzing toward the other edge of the pitch.

Harry gave chase, a laugh escaping him as he leaned back, letting the wind buffet his hair. He didn't bother asking his Firebolt for top speed, letting the snitch spin about in front of him and watching it almost lazily.

Finally he got tired of watching it flicker about, clearly trying to shake his trail - which it might have done, had he had weaker vision - and he urged his Firebolt forward, hand outstretched as he neared the glinting piece of gold.

His hands wrapped around cool metal and he gave a whoop of victory, holding it up high with a wide grin.

He looked over to the stands to his left and reeled back at the look he received from Malfoy. He furrowed his eyebrows at the blond, tilting his head to one side as he contemplated the intense expression on the other's face.

Zabini leaned close to Malfoy, saying something that Harry missed due to the wind choosing that time to smack him solidly in the side of the face, drowning out all other sounds. He felt a flash of annoyance at the sight of the two clearly-cuddly Slytherins-

"POTTER!"

Harry's head whipped around, glancing back down to where Katie stood, looking extremely pleased at the ground of the pitch. A smile flitted across his features and he took his broom down, landing and quietly hopping off.

Immediately, the adrenaline rush began to fade, and the nausea and dizziness made themselves known once more.

"That was amazing, Harry," Katie said warmly, pulling him into an unexpected hug. He tensed, but allowed it, blowing out a breath as one of the other team members patted him solidly on the scarred shoulder. At least I'm getting less sensitive about that, he thought hopefully as his stomach churned.

"I didn't think it was possible for you to get better, but hell, you did."

Bollocks, I'm going to be ill.

He offered her a smile, nodding. "Thanks Katie, good luck!" he said warmly as he patted the girl on the shoulder and began to walk back toward the castle, his vision darkening around the edges.

Don't be sick until you get inside, don't be sick until you get inside, he willed his stomach, and hoped no one noticed the way his legs trembled discreetly beneath him.

He didn't notice the look of disappointment and anxiety from Ron as he shut the castle door behind himself, and the Keeper try-outs began.


"It's the Weasel's turn," Blaise said casually to Draco, who was on his feet, eyes narrowed at the castle door.

"Did you just see Potter take his broom inside, instead of putting it away in the Quidditch rooms?"

"Nope," Blaise said casually, repressing a yawn as he leaned back in his seat, eyelids drooping.

"Seemed a bit unwell, didn't he?" Draco mused, eyes narrowed.

"Maybe he stayed up all night with his aunt?" Blaise suggested. "Heard Weasley saying something to that effect to the Parvarti twins earlier."

Draco nodded slowly, a contemplative look across his features as he turned to Blaise.

"Maybe. I'll be back," he said distractedly as he started down the steps of the stands.

Blaise waved lazily at his back, rolling his eyes.


Harry slid down the side of the wall, legs seeming to buckle with relief as he finally gave up on forcing them to carry his weight. He tugged off the Quidditch vest and long-sleeved shirt that covered his normal t-shirt, the heat stifling. He tore off his glasses while he was at it, throwing them across the corridor with a snarl of rage.

He let his broom clatter to the ground beside him, and clutched his head with both hands, his back muscles seizing in pain as his scar burned.

-Kill him. He'd kill Fenrir with his own hands if it needed to be done.

He was in a darkened room, empty portraits lining every wall. It was a bedroom – his room, temporarily.

The Prophecy was pointless now – no, but there were more pressing matters.

If Potter-

"Potter?"

A sensation a bit like being tugged by a portkey overwhelmed Harry's senses for a moment, and slowly, he began to recognize his surroundings again.

He was sitting on the floor of a corridor by the entrance to the Quidditch pitch, and crouched beside him was a person.

Grey eyes were wide with concern – grey eyes?

Also, concern?

"Malfoy," Harry spat, shocked at the weakness of his own voice. He conjured the angriest look he could, directing it straight at the Slytherin.

The concern in the blond's eyes didn't leave, but his worried expression dissipated into a sneer. It was then Harry realized he had a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged it off, trying to stand up.

"Decided to take a nap on the floor?" Malfoy asked casually.

"I – yes," Harry said defiantly, jutting out his chin and taking in slow, shallow breaths as he sank back to the ground, hoping the other wizard didn't notice he had actually tried to stand. The dizziness and nausea were gone, but they threatened him as he tried to put weight on his feet again.

"You must be tired," the Slytherin said slowly. "After last night."

Harry felt his blood seem to chill in his very veins. He swallowed hard. "I – I – what do you mean?" he asked dangerously.

Malfoy arched both eyebrows. "Just, staying with your aunt, it must have been very difficult for you," he said in a soft tone of voice.

Harry didn't feel any relief as he registered the blond's tone. "It was," Harry agreed stiffly, green eyes flickering with anger.

Malfoy pulled himself out of the crouch and Harry leaned heavily on the wall as he scrambled to his feet himself. He felt his vision fizzle around the edges and he swayed.

Malfoy stepped forward, extending a hand for support as Harry began to tip forward, and the black-haired wizard used the other's arm to steady himself, leaning into his side.

Both wizards seemed to realize what they'd done at once, and Harry stepped away from the blond at the same time that Draco retracted his arm.

"Why are you following me?" Harry spat as he leaned back against the stone wall for support, resisting the urge to let his knees buckle again as his vision swam.

Draco's gaze flickered to the edge of a scar near Harry's shoulder, eyes widening minutely as he stopped, mouth agape as if he had been about to respond.

Harry followed his gaze and immediately his stomach clenched. He used one hand to fumble and jerk the edge of his shirt back over his scarred shoulder, wishing he hadn't taken his vest off.

Stupid stretched-out shirts, he thought miserably, gaze dropping to the ground as he waited for the accusations.

"Is that really what you wear under your robes all the time?"

Harry's head popped up, jaw dropping slightly as he stared at the Slytherin, whose face was curled into a mixture of pity and disappointment.

"Yes," Harry snapped, huffing and crossing his arms, pulling some of his weight hesitantly off of the wall as he straightened his back. He really didn't see it?

"Do the muggles you live with hate you, or are they just poor?" he asked dryly.

Harry felt a swell of anger in his chest and curled his hands into fists. "None of your business. Also – stop following me. And I mean it," he said severely.

"You don't seem that bothered by it," Draco said casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not really, anyway. What changed?"

Harry closed his eyes, breathing out of his nostrils sharply. "You don't seem to speak basic English, Malfoy, so I'll say it very slowly – Leave. Me. Alone."

"Am I bothering you?" he asked, a frown turning down the corners of his lips.

"Yes."

"By doing what?"

"Existing," Harry snarled, bending over and snatching up his Firebolt with a burning look of hatred that Draco only raised his eyebrows at. A small smile encompassed the Slytherin's features – he looked much better with a smile, less pointy – his grey eyes were strangely soft in that lighting-

-and stupid, and annoying, and git-ish.

"Would you like some help getting to the Hospital Wing?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said, turning away from the other unsteadily and beginning down the corridor, ignoring the pulsing irritation of his wolf in his head as he left the pack.

He's not a friend, not him, and get used to it, he snarled angrily into his mind to the pushy, obnoxious energy that was the wolf.

And that's all you are. Energy, a magical condition, a disease. You're not the wolf, a wolf, or a sentient being at all, and your feelings don't matter to me, he thought, eyes pinching closed in rage as he stumbled up the steps toward the Fat Lady's portrait, snarling out the password.

He threw open the door to the common room.

Seamus Finnigan jerked up his head, eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the werewolf. "Harry?" he asked uncertainly.

Harry turned away mechanically, and started up the steps, Firebolt in hand.

He slammed the door of his dorm behind him.


His aunt isn't sick.

He tucked Potter's discarded glasses that he had been playing with into his robe pockets as he spotted the person he'd been looking for. They didn't have a prescription, from what Draco could tell.

"Blaise, have you seen Crabbe and Goyle?" Draco asked sharply as he approached the tired-looking Slytherin.

"Hm? Oh, they're standing outside some bathroom, saying you went in there and never came out and they're waiting for you," Blaise said, eyes drifting to the pocket where Draco had put the Gryffindor's iconic glasses.

"Good," Draco said, nodding. "There was something I-"

He stopped himself suddenly, jaw snapping closed as he took a few slow breaths.

Blaise arched an eyebrow at him. "If it's something you don't feel comfortable talking to me about, then don't," he suggested casually.

Draco scowled, glancing to the stone wall beside him.

Potter's a werewolf. Why do I care if Blaise knows? He should know. Keeping someone that dangerous in the school, we should all know about it.

He opened his mouth, then let it snap closed again. He shook his head sharply, giving a quick, stiff exhale.

"Is it about Potter?"

Draco's grey eyes widened minutely as if he couldn't fathom how Blaise could have deduced that. Slowly, he nodded.

Blaise smiled. "I mean, it was about time you figured it out," he said encouragingly.

"What?" Draco asked, leaning back with a puzzled expression. "You mean you knew?"

"Everyone knew, hell, even Pansy knew – she was just in denial," Blaise said. "You know, we're okay with it," he added in a quieter tone.

"You are?" Draco asked incredulously, eyes flying wide.

"Well, maybe not completely, but I mean it's not really any of our business is it? I'm okay with it, anyway."

"Uh – yeah – I mean, I suppose so," Draco said slowly, trying not to stare at his friend as if he'd grown a second head. "So – who all knows?"

Blaise paused, tilting his head. "Probably everyone, except Crabbe maybe. I think Goyle's even got a hint. Hannah sure knows. Astoria seemed a bit hopefully oblivious, like Pansy, but you know how they are. Daphne-"

"How did all of you know?"

"No offense, but it was kind of obvious," Blaise said with a shrug, leaning back against the wall. "But, I mean, we're seriously happy for you."

Draco felt a twinge of irritation. The patronization because he was apparently the last person to figure out Potter was a werewolf was not needed.

"So – did it just happen? I mean is that where you were?" Blaise asked curiously. "I kind of figured it might take Potter even longer to figure it out than it did you, but I mean, apparently you both had some sort of epiphany moment, yeah? Not that it's any of my business – I mean, but, hey, good for you."

"What in Salazar's name are you talking about?" Draco asked slowly as it dawned on him that there was no way Blaise was talking about lycanthropy.

Blaise frowned now, head tilting to the side. "You are dating, aren't you?"


Stupid, stupid, stupid git. Needs some Ginny-perfume, that's what he needs. Then he'd reek and I could hex him and life would be-

The door to the common room gently opened, two familiar scents twirling into the air as Ron and Hermione entered with nearly identical looks of glee.

"Where were you two?" Harry snarled irritably as he slammed a book he had been trying to read closed.

Ron's elated expression immediately fell into one of rage, Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

"Where was I?" Ron snarled.

"Yeah!" Harry said, confused as to why he was getting such an angry response but going with it as he got to his feet.

"On the stupid pitch where you left me, you git!" Ron shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. "Way to be there for me, real best mate Harry," he snarled. "Give everyone the show of a lifetime on that stupid broom then walk off and leave me to the wolves. Katie was a menace when you left."

Harry's anger deflated like a balloon as his shoulders fell forward and he sank back into his chair, planting his face into his palms.

"Your try out," Harry mumbled miserably. "Ron – I completely forgot, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," Ron snapped. "I got the place. Fantastic. Thanks Harry, couldn't have done it without you, really. Night – 'Mione."

There was the sound of retreating footsteps, and the door of the dorm slammed closed. Harry winced at the noise.

"Hermione, I-"

Harry lifted his head to see her giving him a disapproving look still, and sighed as she sank into the seat opposite to him.

"Go on."

"Don't have anything to say, really. Is he awfully upset?" he asked quietly.

Hermione hesitated, blowing out a slow breath before giving a reluctant nod. "Not terribly so – I mean he did get the spot, so he's ecstatic really. And we both know that yesterday wasn't – well, wasn't a very good day for you. So I think he just needs some time to calm down." She frowned suddenly, leaning forward and narrowing her eyes as she glanced over his face.

"I was just trying not to puke on Katie's shoes," Harry said sincerely, lifting his head from his hands. "I'm not sure how I forgot."

"Where are your glasses?" she blurted suddenly, head tilted.

Harry reached up slowly, feeling the bridge of his nose before cursing, shaking his head as he realized Malfoy would have noticed they were gone too. "I - I lost them. I'll have to find them tomorrow," he muttered. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts of a certain blond Slytherin. "How did the try-out go then?"

A flush blossomed in Hermione's cheeks as she glanced up toward the ceiling, and Harry felt a twinge of suspicion.

"Well, there was another person trying out for Keeper. McLaggen."

"Never met him," Harry murmured.

"You'd hate him," she supplied helpfully, eyes flicking open. "Can't work in a team setting at all. Thinks he can play each role better than everyone else. Loud, arrogant – awful sort."

Harry nodded slowly, his mind beginning to piece things together. "But he was a good enough Keeper, I'd reckon?"

Hermione nodded. "I was – a bit worried, you know, just a bit. And he was being a prat about it, so I thought it couldn't hurt you know if maybe one of the Quaffles just sort of, you know, slipped past him?" she offered shyly.

Harry tossed back his head and let out a barking laugh. "Hermione, you're the best," he said warmly, feeling a surge of affection for his friends, quickly followed by a stab of guilt that he hadn't been there.

Hermione's heart rate picked up and Harry turned his gaze back to her, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

She cleared her throat, shifting her gaze away from his curious stare. "Well I ah, I'm going to go to bed now," she said in an odd tone, fumbling to her feet and offering him an awkward smile. "Good night, Harry."

He frowned at her still, but slowly raised one hand in a slight wave, nodding. "Night, Hermione," he replied.

She pressed her lips between her teeth and turned toward the steps, walking up them quietly, her pulse still quickened.

Wonder what's wrong with her, Harry mused silently, leaning back heavily into his chair and heaving a sigh.

He let his aching eyes drift closed, a soft smile and stupid grey eyes flickering behind his eyelids as he slowly sunk into sleep.