Chapter 33

Draco stood with his back to the great fireplace in the headmasters' office. Normally the roasting fire would be a comfort on a bone chilling winter night but tonight's excitement already had Draco's forehead beginning to form beads of nervous sweat.

"Please have a seat, Draco," Dumbledore said casually, whipping his wand out at the same time and conjuring up a steaming cup and saucer. "And how about some tea?"

Draco took a step back. "I knew it," he said in a ghostly whisper.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore said politely.

"I knew it," Draco repeated this time at a normal volume. "I knew my father was right about you," this time his voice was loud and beginning to sound frantic.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster said, raising a hand intended to calm the boy.

Hearing "Mr. Malfoy" from the headmaster's lips only angered Draco. How dare Dumbledore say his father's name? Draco opened his mouth, prepared to vent every terrible feeling and thought that he had been repressing but as he moved his lips, no sound came out. His eyes widened in confusion and disbelief. He raised his hands to his mouth the reassure himself that his lips were actually moving and forming shapes that should result in sound.

The headmaster quietly set his tea cup on a side table and gracefully stood. "None of that, please, Draco."

The blond boy lifted his eyes to the elderly wizard who now had his full attention.

"All students will be leaving tomorrow morning on winter holiday except for yourself, Miss. Granger, and Mr. Weazly. Until that time, I will require your complete cooperation in keeping the presence of our esteemed guests out of the school gossip chain. I'll will arrange accommodations for you to stay in the hospital wing under the care of Madame Pomphrey and Professor McGonagal tonight."

Draco didn't really hear the rest of what Dumbledore said to him that night. He barely remembered being led to the hospital wing by the deputy headmistress. So many thoughts were rushing into his head that he didn't have the capacity to process where he was going or what he was doing.

He didn't sleep the whole night. He saw the dark medical ward of Hogwarts alight with the morning sunrise. About midmorning he heard the familiar noise of his fellow students getting into carriages that would take them to the Hogsmead Express and then home to their families for the holidays.

Soon afterward, a house elf brought him breakfast which he didn't touch.

Severus sat propped up by two pillows on the same bed that he hadn't left for more that ten minutes over the past two weeks. He was flipping though one of Phaedrus' larger volumes on mythical creatures. Some of the beasts were complete fabrications of muggle imagination and others he knew to be more real than most.

Harry and Phaedrus sat near the fire playing a game of chess. Severus supposed that his host must never have played the game before because Harry was actually beating him, badly by the looks of it.

Severus finished a chapter on hags and then flipped the page to the werewolf section and noticed something peculiar. The first page of the chapter had been folded down as if marking the place from where the last reader left off. Or perhaps marking a favorite subject.

"Checkmate!" Harry said enthusiastically. Actually winning chess was much more enjoyable than merely playing chess, he thought.

Severus closed the book and placed it out of the way. Werewolves was a subject matter in which he was already well versed and he was becoming bored with that particular book.

"Finding that book interesting?" Phaedrus absentmindedly asked as he gathered the askew chess pieces.

"Very," Severus lied.

Phaedrus looked at the wall clock. It was half past seven in the evening. "How does dinner sound?" he asked, addressing Harry. He had grown somewhat accustomed to Severus' lack of interest in food.

"Sounds great," Harry answered, still on a bit of a winners' high. "Need any help?"

Phaedrus shook his head and retired into the kitchen.

Harry turned his attention to Severus who was impatiently tugging at his sheets. Severus was obviously anxious to get away from a bed. Tugging at sheets seemed a bit juvenile for a professor but it was one of Severus' rare, unguarded moments that humanized him to Harry.

"I think I'm getting better at chess," Harry said, starting the conversation. "Maybe I'll beat you the next time we play," he continued, optimistically.

"Don't count your dragons before they're hatched," Severus replied coolly, giving the boy a poor excuse of a glare that wouldn't frighten so much as a first year.

Harry looked away but smiled to himself. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," was the short reply.

"I'm serious, Professor," Harry said somberly. He had been keeping track of the number of days it had been since their keeper's transformation and he knew that they would have to put a bit of distance between them before his next change.

"It's not your job to worry about me," came the stiff answer.

"Nor is it your job to put yourself in between me and a werewolf," Harry retorted in typical teenage fashion.

"I am your professor and as such, it is my duty to concern myself with your overall well-being," Severus stated tiredly.

Harry couldn't think of any professor that he had in his years at the muggle school with Dudley that would do half so much for him. "Well it's not everyone who would do that, anyway," Harry said a bit annoyed.

Between the hours of later that night and early the next morning, Severus was asleep in the same bed and Harry was curled up, breathing steadily in his make-shift bed.

Phaedrus sat alone in the kitchen with a bowl of ice water. His shirt lay on the floor next to his chair. He dipped a cloth into the bowl and wrung out the excess water. He relunctantly placed the cold cloth across his back. His wound from the night of his transformation still hurt after being up all day. When he couldn't take the chill anymore, he removed the cloth and placed it in the bowl. But when he brought his arm down to rest, he knocked the bowl to the floor.

Severus woke from his light sleep with a start at a noise. Severus pushed himself up on his elbow and looked toward Harry's cot. Harry was still sound asleep but light was pouring into the dark room from the kitchen.

Severus looked around the room but didn't notice anything out of the ordinary except that Phaedrus was missing. Casting another look to Harry, Severus gingerly pulled the sheet and blanket off his body. Shifting his lower body, Severus moved his legs across the bed and planted his feet on the cold wood of the floor. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. He listened for a moment for any sound coming from the kitchen but heard nothing.

Using a chair placed next to the bed, Severus got out of bed by himself for the first time in two weeks. The wizard staggered across the room to the kitchen and stepped into the light. For a few seconds, he grasped the wall and let his eyes adjust to the light. When he could see clearly, he was unprepared for the sight before him.

Phaedrus, sat on a chair with his back turned toward Severus who was staring at a hugh bruise on Phaedrus' back.

In a flash, the memory of the beast being flung against the tree came back to him. The dog-eared chapter in the book. "You." It sounded like both a question and an accusation.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Phaedrus said, jumping to his feet to assist the weak man.

Severus slid to the floor before Phaedrus reached him.

"It was you," he whispered.

"What?" Phaedrus asked confused. Then shaking his head, he checked himself."Severus don't talk. Let's get you back into bed."

"You're the werewolf." Severus said, making a weak attempt to push Phaedrus away but the werewolf didn't let go.

Author's Note: Yes, it's been forever. Life has just been incredibly busy. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!