CHAPTER TEN


A/N: 100 reviews? Well you guys are awesome. Onwards...


Draco stretched his dress-pant clad legs out in front of him, staring into the licking fire in the dimly-lit Slytherin common room. He took a slow sip of the firewhiskey in his hand, ignoring the burn trailing down his throat.

His grey eyes reflected the hungry flames as they danced in place and a smirk curled up the corner of the right side of his mouth. He let out a snort of laughter, gaze glassy and unmoving.

Harry Potter.

Gryffindor. Stupid, rash. He was too forward, too willfully oblivious.

It would never work.

He was Draco Malfoy. He could have anyone he wanted. He had money, power, influence, looks, intelligence, blood-purity, talent. He wasn't oblivious - witches positively fawned over him.

He smirked fully now, scoffing as he shook his head and pulled his gaze away from the flames.

He could have anyone, within reason.

I'm being stupid. This isn't affection - or attraction. I hate Potter, he hates me. I'm just confused, he told himself forcefully, glancing tiredly over to Blaise, who had fallen asleep after finishing his own glass.

He blew out a slow breath, trying to force the image of bright green eyes from the forefront of his mind. It might have been easier if everything in the room, down to the flames of the candles on the walls, weren't green.

Maybe if I didn't stay up until four in the morning I wouldn't have stupid problems like being attracted to Harry Potter. Merlin's sake, this is ridiculous.

He downed the last of the contents of his cup before setting down the glass sharply, silently vowing not to drink with Blaise ever again, no matter how pathetically pleading he was.

Draco grimaced as he stretched his back against the back of the leather couch. He never had been good at the whole comforting friend thing.

Blaise stirred suddenly, lifting his head from where it had fallen on to his shoulder in his sleep. "Draco?" he croaked tiredly, his voice traveling through the quiet space separating their seats.

Draco lifted a hand, waving slightly.

Blaise observed him for a long moment before letting his head fall back, eyes slipping closed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Draco frowned. "For?"

Blaise didn't open his eyes as he gestured in front of himself. "The drinking, my whinging, for bringing up Potter-"

"-It's fine, Blaise," Draco interrupted as he leaned his head back against the sofa, eyelids heavy as he banished his confused emotions with practiced ease.

"'S not," the other wizard muttered, words slurring slightly. He sat up, seeming to give himself a mental shake. "Can tell it's all getting to you. See it in your face," he said in a more sober voice. "You should let us be there for you. We're your friends. You don't need to shut us out. Whatever's happening, we're here for you, Draco. You put up with my shit. If you help me, I should help you - I don't like owing debts."

Draco smirked and let out a humorless laugh. "Spare me your drunken ramblings. Then we'll be even."

Blaise laughed slightly, looking around the darkened room blearily before smiling and pouncing on a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. He forewent a cup, instead tipping the contents carelessly back into his mouth. "I'm not drunk," he argued, tossing the bottle aside after he'd emptied it.

He threw himself on to the couch next to the blond and Draco grimaced, scooting away from the intoxicated wizard. He watched the discarded bottle roll into a nearby stone wall and shot his friend an arched look.

"Does it hurt much?" Blaise asked him seriously, eyebrows furrowing.

Draco frowned at him. "What?"

The drunken wizard waved a hand in an explanatory fashion. "Potter. Thinking that it'll never work. Does it hurt? Can't read you. Can't tell." He leaned close to the blond, eyes narrowed as he scanned his face.

Draco's expression closed off as he moved further away from the other. "No. I don't like Potter. I hate him," he spat.

Blaise stared at him for a long moment. A snort of laughter escaped him finally as he leaned back, expression pitying. "You actually believe that?"

Draco flexed his jaw, clenching his hands into fists as his pulse sped. "Not everyone thinks it's a romantic notion to pine after someone uninterested. I don't like Potter, I never have, and I never will. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter, because he's Harry Potter, and I'm me," Draco explained, gesturing to himself as he finished his slight tangent.

Blaise sat back, licking his dry lips contemplatively, expression calculating. "So you're afraid of not getting what you want, is that it?" he asked quietly, sounding suspiciously less drunk. "You'd rather be confident in getting something you don't care for, than shoot for something that isn't as likely?"

"I'm being realistic," Draco said coldly. "This conversation is over."

Blaise hummed and sprawled himself into a laying position against the couch, throwing his feet into the blond's lap. "I don't think it's that unlikely, you know. I've seen how he looks at you. When you aren't watching."

Draco stood, shoving the other's shoes out of his lap. "Good night, Blaise," he said coolly, turning toward the stairs.

"Night, Draco."


Rhythmic footfalls in a forest.

A tawny rabbit sprung from hiding and darted for cover, startling a sparrow through the thick tree foliage above and into the sky.

Harry took in a slow breath, looking around himself in wonder. The sound of the four-beat footfalls grew closer.

He drew in a breath, the sweet edge of mint stirring warmth in his mind.

He lifted his nose, which he now realized was decidedly canine, to the sky. He howled quietly, warmth building inside his chest.

The footfalls changed direction, moving toward him. He pricked his ears, not knowing what he was excited for, but feeling it all the same.

The white wolf sprung forth from the green undergrowth, his dazzling fur reflecting off the few rays of sun that cut through the tree coverage. He looked and smelled like winter, in the middle of the humid forest.

Harry bounded forward, touching his nose to the wolf's and glancing into his light grey eyes.

Everything around him blurred. Standing now on two human legs, he found himself staring into the same two grey eyes. He was pressed against someone's chest, and it was the only bit of warmth all around.

It was cold, and dark. He could only just make out the features of the person he was up against.

Draco.

Relief flooded him. He buried his nose into the other's neck, drawing in his comforting scent.

The blond returned the embrace, and he felt something rest against his hair. He felt a surge of affection and leaned back, staring up at the other wizard. His gaze slowly drifted to his lips, and he felt his mouth go dry.

A smirk turned up the corners of Draco's mouth. His eyes danced with humor as he inclined his head, and Harry felt his pulse quicken as his eyes drifted closed and he made to close the gap between them-

-Draco grabbed his wrist, yanking him away from something from behind. His expression was morphed with fear when Harry opened his eyes again, frowning in confusion.

They were in a winding corridor, orbs lining every wall, dates beneath them.

A giant snake was slithering toward the two of them when Harry spun around to face the apparent attacker. She bared her fangs, and lunged forward.

To her right, an orb rolled off of an unknown shelf, shattering on impact.

Harry dragged Draco back with him, shielding him with his body. The snake's fangs sunk into his ribs.

He was burning again. In his shoulder, in his chest, all around him a forest was burning.

Nagini was still hovering over from where he laid knocked down. Draco was gone. The darkness from her eyes flooded his mind.


"Harry!"

Harry gasped, sitting upright, his heart beating madly in his chest. "Dr- Ron!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

It was late. Ron stood next to his bed, eyebrows furrowed in tired concern, his red hair sticking up awkwardly. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Harry swallowed hard. He nodded. "Just a bad dream. Thanks, Ron," he muttered as he fell back against his pillow, massaging his face with one hand.

Ron hovered for a moment before nodding, and trailing back over to his bed without a word. Harry waited until the redhead had climbed back into bed, his heartrate slowing to a sleeping pace, before he got to his feet and shoved open the window, staring out on to the grounds by the Black Lake. A cool breeze blew in the open window, raising goosebumps along his arms.

His dream replayed in his mind, and he felt warmth spread up his neck and shock grip his stomach as he realized the direction the dream had been taking before the nightmare began.

He leaned his elbows against the windowsill and buried his face in both hands. It was the third dream like that in a single week, and Harry was becoming increasingly certain it was a side-affect of the approaching moon.

Dreaming about Draco Malfoy, gee Harry, not sure what Rita Skeeter wants to hear more. You're a werewolf, or you're bent for Malfoy? Both at once would probably be best. Should send her an owl.

"Damn it," Harry snarled, running his hands through his black locks and giving them a tug. He shook his head, turning around and releasing his hold on his hair as he leaned back against the open window. The wind blew from outside, brushing against the nape of his neck and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

He stared blankly into the dark room before him, drumming the fingers on one hand restlessly for a long moment.

His shoulders sagged forward suddenly, and his form shook with a brief, silent laugh.


Draco repressed a yawn as he trailed into his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year. It had been delayed for some reason - an issue with the curriculum, Draco had heard.

He scanned the room and resisted the urge to vomit at the sheer amount of pink.

He slid into a seat next to some Slytherin he hadn't bothered learning the name of, and Goyle quickly dragged them out of the seat, settling in next to the Malfoy heir.

"Where's Crabbe?" he asked quietly, resisting the urge to scan the room for Potter.

Blaise was wrong, he reminded himself forcefully. He hadn't antagonized or looked at Potter in two weeks. Because he wasn't obsessed, and if he needed to prove that, he could.

"He's sick," Goyle said simply.

Draco gave a non-commital noise of response and crossed his arms over the table, resting his chin over them and letting his eyes drift closed for a moment.


"Do you think Malfoy's ill?" Harry asked curiously as he stared at the back of the blond's head, focusing aggressively on his scent in an attempt to block out the noxious perfume scent permeating the room.

He hasn't been a git the past week. He looks nicer when he scowls less. I suppose he's always been good-looking, hasn't he? I mean all the witches like him, don't they?

He clenched his jaw as he thought of Pansy Parkinson.

"Um, maybe," Hermione said unsurely.

His scent's a bit off, Harry noted suddenly, straightening in his seat. Is that my - ?

Harry frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he drew in his own scent that was trailing off of Malfoy.

Oh. His eyes lit with understanding. My glasses.

He narrowed his eyes, feeling a surge of irritation. Typical of Malfoy to take something that didn't belong to him. He got to his feet, flexing his jaw as he glared over at the Slytherin.

"Hem-hem."

Harry paused, turning to look to where the sound had come from and wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant sight of Dolores Umbridge.

"Take your seats please," she said in a sickly sweet voice. Harry narrowed his eyes and felt his wolf snarl at the order. He stayed on his feet, posture stiff with defiance.

She narrowed her eyes.

Harry curled his hands into fists, his green eyes darkening as his wolf surged toward the surface. A growl built in his chest as Hermione grabbed him by the wrist and he jumped, looking down to her in surprise.

Sit down, he told himself forcibly as his friend gave him a serious look.

His knees bent like someone fighting the Imperius curse as he fell down into his seat.

Umbridge's expression morphed into one of pure hatred for less than half a second, and Harry didn't think he would have seen it without his improved vision. He widened his eyes slightly, hand drifting toward his wand as rage curled inside of him.

I hate her.

"Calm down," Hermione whispered urgently, releasing her hold on his wrist. He looked over to her angrily.

Couldn't they see the cruelty in her gaze? She was a threat, a danger, she had to be eliminated-

Harry cut off the animalistic train of thought as well as he could, shoving his wolf back down and letting his shoulders cave forward.

"Wands away," Umbridge chirped from the front of the class.


"What were you thinking?" Hermione hissed angrily as the Gryffindor trio exited the classroom an hour later. "Harry, you can't get detention. You're going to have to talk to Dumbledore."

"Why can't Harry get detention?" Ron interjected irritably.

Hermione looked over to the redhead in surprise and Harry offered him a glare as he started down a short flight of steps. "Gee, thanks Ron."

"You know why," Hermione said in a sharp whisper as she followed after him, curls bouncing as she followed down the steps.

"Why not, Granger?"

Harry looked up in surprise at the voice, finding himself face to face with increasingly familiar grey eyes as he did so.

"Not a convenient time?" Draco asked sneeringly. "Potter too good for detention?"

Harry blinked. He looked to Hermione, uncomprehending. Why couldn't he go to detention? He went all the time. It didn't get in the way of Quidditch, the detention was scheduled for next week at-

-The full moon.

Harry repressed a groan and reached up both hands to scrub his face. He would have to visit Snape to get the first dosage of his potion and Ron would probably have to fill in his detention for him with polyjuice if he couldn't get it moved.

But no, Ron had detention too.

Damn it all. Harry groaned angrily.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Malfoy?" Hermione asked sharply, startling Harry from his thoughts.

"Come on," Harry said bluntly, startling his friends and the Slytherin. "Forget him," Harry muttered, brushing past the wizard and rubbing subconsciously at his scar.

Draco watched the Gryffindors leave with a look of surprise that only rivaled Hermione's.


"That was very...mature of you Harry," Hermione said finally, her expression still clearly alarmed as the two made their way up the switching staircases.

The three paused, bracing heavily against the railing as the staircase swung them off-course. "Thanks?" Harry responded questioningly, shrugging a shoulder as he headed up the stairs as they stilled again.

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione's expression and stomped off ahead of the two. Harry watched him go with furrowed eyebrows. "What happened to him?" he asked, glancing back at the bushy-haired girl with a frown.

She shook her head. "I've no idea. He hasn't told me anything," she said. Harry frowned after his friend.

"You know Harry, I think you look quite nice without your glasses," she tacked on after a beat of silence.

Harry reached up a hand to brush the bridge of his nose. "Oh, thanks," he said unsurely. "Malfoy has them," he added as he remembered it.

"What?" Hermione asked in surprise, stopping in her walk toward the Gryffindor tower and giving Harry a wide-eyed, questioning look. "How did he get them?"

Harry sighed and kept walking. The witch quickly followed after him, look still inquisitive. "I dunno. I dropped them, and Malfoy was around."

"Why didn't you pick them up?"

"I was distracted," Harry said hotly. "Why does it matter? I'm tired Hermione," he said stiffly, pausing as he remembered he needed his potion. He turned toward the staircases.

"Okay," Hermione said hesitantly, frowning as he started down the stairs. She opened then closed her mouth, watching him go unsurely.


"What are you doing?" Draco asked curiously as he strolled into the Potions classroom, peering into a nearby cauldron as he approached the desk at the front of the room.

Snape tucked a vial of a dark-colored potion into his robe and vanished the contents of the cauldron, but not before Draco got a whiff of the potion.

Wolfsbane. Its stench was undeniably unique.

Draco looked up to his godfather with arched eyebrows.

"It's after hours, Draco," Snape countered as he began to clean up his desk, floating things into their places absent-mindedly as he glanced over a scroll of parchment.

"Makes sense why you're bottling Wolfsbane then. Is it true it can only be handled at night?"

The Potions Master pinned him with a slow, unreadable look and Draco offered him a forced smile as he hopped into a stool across from the man.

"It is safest. However, it is not impossible to brew and bottle it in the evening as long as it is kept in a shaded area."

"Interesting," Draco said cheerfully, burying his burning curiosity as he met the man's critical gaze.

Severus opened his mouth to say something as the door to the dungeon classroom was flung open once more.

"Professor Snape, I'm here-" Harry's words died on his lips as his gaze alighted upon the unexpected company in the room.

"-For your supplementary potions lesson," Snape snapped sharply at the same moment that Draco's eyes widened considerably in understanding.

Harry flushed and fixed his gaze on the ground, nodding stiffly. "Yes, err, that."

"You're taking supplementary potions?" Draco asked the werewolf tauntingly. He knew it was a lie, but it was nonetheless humorous to watch Potter's face go red with rage and not be allowed to deny it.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry snarled, green eyes flashing as he lifted his tired gaze.

"Five points from Gryffindor for language," Snape drawled helpfully. Draco barely repressed laughter at the look on the Gryffindor's face at that statement. "Take your seat."

"Have a nice lesson," Draco said casually as he hopped to his feet, watching the wizard sink into a stool at their usual table with an air of abnormal fatigue.

It was a week from the full moon, but Potter's behavior suggested it was closer. Perhaps he was sick?

No. Not obsessing, he reminded himself forcefully. It didn't matter if Potter was sick.

It didn't.


"Thank you," Harry murmured as the potions professor handed over a familiar vial of the wretched potion. "I - I haven't been sleeping well," he added suddenly, looking up to the older wizard hesitantly. "Madam Pompfrey had said, if I needed a dreamless sleep potion-"

"-I'm out of stock, next time you expect me to simply have remedies to all of your many ailments at your beck and call, keep in mind that I am not a healer Mr. Potter," Snape cut him off in a cold, quick tone of voice.

Harry heaved a tired sigh, not seeming to manage a look of anger as he staggered to his feet, struggling against his tired eyelids. "Thanks," he muttered again as he turned, stomping out of the dungeon and slamming the door behind himself with accidental force.

Harry drank in a slow breath as he leaned against the door of the classroom, allowing the remaining hint of Draco's scent in the air to calm his agitated inner wolf.

So much for Malfoy not being a git, Harry thought grumpily as he pulled out the cork on the vial of Wolfsbane and took a drink.

He cringed as the potion hit him, grimacing. It worked its way down his throat, its horrible taste lingering as its cold burn seemed to pulse into his veins and burn his muscles.

He felt his wolf struggle against the potion, distinct feelings of betrayal pouring off of it in waves. Harry banished it to the back of his mind, hating the sensation.

He wasn't sure if the worst part of the wolf was its personality or its temper, but at that moment, Harry was too exhausted to put up with either. He reached into his bag and yanked out his invisibility cloak, pulling it over his head with a sigh.

He stomped up the Gryffindor tower, taking off his cloak as he turned around a corner, and pointedly ignoring the few calls of greeting he received.