Part 6
His paws dug into the earth, carrying him past trees and over a stream. Water splashed underfoot and leaves crunched, and all the smells of the forest were alive and heady like strong liquor. His prey ran on two legs, painfully slow, but flinging back spells that sprayed fire and exploded in sparks, making Draco leap through the splashes of dirt and mud.
The chase was short. Draco lunged, fangs bared, and his prey turned with a scream that cut off as his jaws closed over the soft throat. As they crashed to the ground, Draco swallowed mouthfuls of sweet blood as he stared into his own panicked, pain-filled eyes.
Something touched his shoulder--he shrieked as he woke, slamming his head into the table above him. Groaning, he put one hand where he'd struck the wood and blinked at the boy kneeling in front of him. Harry stared at him with wide eyes, not sure if he should comfort him or stun him.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked in a low voice, afraid he would scream again.
"I'm..." Draco heard his voice shake and took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm all right."
"You look white as a sheet," Harry argued.
He put his hand on Draco's forehead to feel for a fever, then touched the side of his neck to check his pulse.
"Maybe you're getting what Snape and your mother have."
Tempted to say that poison wasn't contagious, Draco merely lay his hand on Harry's, not trying to push him off. It wasn't just a ruse. After losing himself in the wolf inside him, being near someone soothed his fear.
"Just a nightmare," Draco said, looking into his eyes. "I get them every night, that's all."
As Draco gathered his legs under himself, Harry offered his hand. Draco took it and rose, using it as an excuse to wobble slightly and lean against Harry. He had only slept for a few hours so the mornings were always uncomfortable. The cool air lingered, giving him a chill, and Harry was warm and firm.
"'Every night'?" Harry repeated, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Is that why you have those circles under your eyes?"
Draco nodded. He knew he should let go of Harry and step away, but he'd felt nothing but hard floors and broken bones since he come here.
"I have nightmares of hunting," he explained. "Every night when I catch my prey, it turns out to be me."
"You're the prey?" Harry asked, putting his hands on his shoulders and gently holding him a few inches back, trying to see his face. "What do you mean?"
"In my dreams, I'm a wolf," Draco said, glancing aside.
He couldn't look Harry in the eye when he thought about it. Years of learning that werewolves were nothing but berzerk animals made him sick with shame, even though his family hadn't shunned him. He knew he wasn't to blame for being a werewolf. He didn't enjoy it like Fenrir did, didn't slaughter out of bloodlust. It didn't matter. He never looked anyone in the eye about it.
"I'm hunting someone in the forest," Draco murmured. "And when I catch him, just as I bite down on his throat, I see my own face."
"No wonder you woke up screaming," Harry said, touching his hair and sweeping a stray wisp from his face. "You never have a good night's sleep?"
"Not since the bite."
Draco smiled faintly at the touch. He was still drowsy, and Harry's hand was soft against his face. It seemed that his nervous smiles and coy glances were paying off. He'd guessed right that Harry liked his boys shy. If Harry was letting him get this close, the interrogation under the veritae charm had worked wonders in his favor.
"I don't think Remus has those kind of dreams," Harry said. "Is it the potion Snape gives you? Maybe it's having some weird side-effect?"
Shaking his head, Draco sighed. If only it were that simple.
"It isn't that. Fenrir--he had me for a long time. He makes his pack more wolf than wizard." He half-shrugged, still not entirely sure of Fenrir's motives. "I think he wanted us dreaming things like that. When someone stopped screaming at night, they weren't the same anymore."
Was this getting him sympathy? Draco hoped so. Being like this made talking about it so much easier. Harry touched his hair, and Draco half-smiled. Harry felt good, so calming to have him lightly gather his hair in his fingers. It had grown while he was on the run with his family, falling to his shoulders with ragged ends, and it had fallen loose as he slept.
"You're afraid of that, aren't you?" Harry asked. "Turning into someone like Fenrir."
Draco didn't answer. Much nicer to let Harry play with his hair, touching his face. When his hands cupped his face, making him turn up to him, he looked into Harry's eyes. The coy glances were over, it seemed. Harry's gaze burned into him, mesmerizing him like a snake would a mouse.
The kiss that followed seemed like second nature.
When Harry let him breathe again, still holding him only inches away, Draco didn't know what to do next. Prompt another kiss? Hold Harry's hand? Let him hold him tight?
"So I was right," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're like me. I wasn't sure you were coming on or not."
"Just--just testing the waters," Draco gave a short humorless laugh. "Didn't want to get hit again. You hate me as it is."
"I don't hate you," Harry said. He put his fingers through Draco's hair again, holding his head upright. "Not anymore. You're not bad at heart. You're just...very wrong about things."
"I could say the same about you," Draco said with a tight smile.
"Of course," Harry said, accepting it without arguing. "I don't suppose you'd--"
As he put his hand firmly on Draco's waist, Harry froze as the other boy flinched. The motion was small, a tiny pull away from his hand and a quick tilt of his shoulder, but he recognized it for what it was. Harry tried to smile reassuringly.
"I won't hit you," Harry said. "I'm not Hermione. Although you did kind of deserve that one..."
His voice trailed off. Draco closed in on himself, lowering his eyes and hunching in his shoulders. He shook his head once, but offered no explanation. Harry put his hand under Draco's chin, trying to tilt him to look up. Draco turned his head and avoided his look.
"Draco?"
"I'm sorry," Draco said, swallowing once. He didn't meet his eyes, but he did try to force himself to sound lighter. "Old injury there."
Harry tilted his head. "You're a werewolf. You heal instantly."
"It isn't..." Draco put his hand against his mouth, steadying his voice before he spoke again. "It isn't physical."
"I don't get it," Harry said. "What's wrong?"
"Do I have to say?" Draco asked, finallly looking at him. "I don't want anyone to know. Even Sev' and mother don't know. I can't ever tell them."
Harry was silent for a long time. He didn't frown, but he didn't give in to Draco's request, either. He stared into Draco's eyes, sliding his arms snakelike around Draco's back and holding him still. Draco squirmed once, then harder, but Harry wouldn't let go. Worse, Draco started to feel pinpricks in the back of his mind, something poking at the edge of his memory until he realized that it wasn't nerves making him feel anxious. He cried out in surprise and shut his eyes.
"Legilimens," he gasped, and he fisted his hands in Harry's clothes, leaning the few inches back that he could. "You're a legilimens."
Harry loosened his grip enough to let Draco stumble away and back hard into the glass wall. Draco winced as he knocked his head against the glass, but when he stood straight, Harry's face was unreadable. Not angry, not suspicious, not even regret for trespassing without Draco's permission. Draco tried to glare, but he knew he was too nervous to do it properly.
Did Harry know that Draco was poisoning Severus and Narcissa? Did he about their plans to save Lucius? Did he guess how they had done their best to manipulate Lupin?
No. Draco's jaw tightened when he saw Harry's face soften. After stealing into someone's mind, Severus always took a moment to gather his thoughts and understand what he had seen. Harry was figuring out what he'd seen, and the pity flashing over his face galled Draco's pride.
"Don't you dare tell anyone," Draco snarled. His fingers curled like claws against the wall, and the wolf rasped his voice. "How dare you look at me!"
"Draco..." Harry started.
"No one was supposed to see," Draco cut him off. "No one knew!"
"Calm down," Harry said, glancing at the door to see if anyone was coming. "Quit shouting."
"Why?" Draco demanded, although his voice dropped despite his anger. "Why shouldn't I? Afraid of someone bursting in? I wish they would. I wish the damn twins would...would..."
No, he didn't. Draco cursed his weakness, but he'd rather be stuck in here with Harry than anyone else. Anyone else in the house hated him. Harry might hurt him, but it was a familiar hurt, a pain that Draco knew how to deal with.
"That's not it at all. I don't want them thinking you're attacking me," Harry said. "They're afraid you might bite me."
Draco laughed once, a bitter hiss. "Oh yes, of course. Of course this is all one big plot to get me in here and bite you, because one bite makes you evil."
When Harry didn't answer, Draco glared sideways at him--his breaths came so fast and broken that he had to fight to talk. He gasped for air, one hand on his chest as if his heart would pound its way out.
"I wish it did," he said hoarsely. "I wish--but of course you saw. The bite doesn't do that. That's all Fenrir."
Draco climbed onto one of the rusty stools and sat slumped over, laying his hands on the table and hiding his face in his arms. Memories that made him sick--Fenrir pinning him as he buried his fangs to the hilt, shoving Draco's face into the leaves and dirt as he grasped his hips, glorying in his pain as Draco screamed and wondered why he couldn't cry for help around his long muzzle and sharp teeth, and above all the torture was Fenrir's barking laughter as he brought Draco into the pack.
Memories that Harry had seen. Draco groaned and closed his eyes. Every wound and old ache seemed to flare to life, and he felt a hundred years older.
"He really hurt you," Harry murmured.
Harry sorted through the images in his mind, the sounds and smells that accompanied the thoughts. Gnawed bones in a pile on the forest floor. Rain striking naked skin. Heavy claws raking his back and thighs in punishment. Dark nights lit not by comforting fire but by the cold moon. And everywhere blood--spilt on the dirt, torn from his body, rushing furiously past his victim's heart, falling hot down his throat.
The forest was an abbatoir, a butchery, and sometimes Draco was the meat.
"You fought it," Harry said. "You were starving."
Starving while surrounded by food. Harry felt Draco's disgust for the carcasses Fenrir threw to his pack, even the runt of the litter still struggling not to accept the change. Fenrir tried to rub the gore against Draco's white snout, but the raw tissue only made Draco sick to his stomach. Draco sneezed, dug his muzzle into the earth to drown out the stench, and shivered as he lay alone, his human screams turning into yelps as he slept.
"Wait," Harry said, looking up. "Wait a minute."
He stepped quickly to Draco's side and put his hand on his shoulder, trying to see his face. He managed to make Draco face him, although the other boy shut his eyes tight.
"I'm not going to look again," Harry said. "I promise."
He wasn't surprised when Draco didn't trust him, but at least he stopped trying to squirm free. Harry dragged one of the stools closer so he could sit with him.
"You were wolf when you wanted to be," Harry said.
"I never wanted to be," Draco ground out.
"I mean you could choose," Harry said. "You stayed a wolf when the sun was out. You don't--when Remus changes, he attacks anything nearby. Why don't you?"
"We told you," Draco said wearily. "Sev makes a--"
"This was before his potion," Harry insisted. "Hell, he hasn't made anything for you for weeks, and you don't seem to make anything for yourself. Remus can't transform at will. Why are you different?"
Draco glanced at him, barely opening his eye wide enough to see, and he sat up when he decided that Harry wasn't going to stop asking. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, Draco stared at the cut flowers in front of him.
"You won't believe me," he said. "And you'll hate me for it."
"I won't hate you," Harry said. He lightly touched Draco's hair, brushing it from his eyes as he spoke. "I'm past that."
"Past it?" Draco laughed with no humor. "What do you want me for, then?"
"You," Harry said simply. Then added "and whatever you can tell me that will end the war."
Draco shook his head. "Won't happen. I don't know anything that great."
"You don't know what's going on outside this place," Harry said. "Trust me. Your potions have been a great help. That's why Hermione was able to yell at them about you."
"No," Draco said, shaking his head again. "I don't believe it. They're just a few smoke potions, a few acids--"
"It's more than they had before," Harry said.
"It's nothing like you do," Draco argued. He sighed and put his head in his hands. "All I can do is brew and mix--you're the one dueling and fighting. You're the one killing Death Eaters. I'm not even a decent werewolf. Fenrir said I was pathetic."
"I'm glad Fenrir doesn't like you," Harry said. "It means you're not a monster like him."
"I should be," Draco said. "Everyone thinks I am. I should be."
"But you're not," Harry said. "You're the best potions master in the world until Snape gets better, and you're the only reason some of my friends are still alive. Neville would've died if he didn't have that smoke potion you made. Luna was getting a bunch of kids out of a Death Eater's chop shop and only that snake's acid got them out."
Snake acid? Draco tried to remember anything like that. Did Harry mean the white adder's tongue? He grimaced. The fighting must have been desperate for her to use it. Or not. She was a ravenclaw, and those types could be brutally cold when it came to war. The best solution to a problem, they always went for, no matter how cruel.
He wondered what was left of the Death Eater when the acid finished burning through them. If she'd splashed their bodies, it would have eaten them in half. If the acid touched their faces, chewing straight into the bone--the thought turned his stomach.
"You're far more valuable to the war in here," Harry said. "Not out there in the fighting. You're right--you're a damn small wolf."
Draco laughed at how deadpan Harry's voice was.
"I know," he said, smiling sadly. "All the other new wolves were so big, and when they'd given up fighting and ate people and--I really was the runt of the pack."
His smile faded. "There was a kid smaller than me, about ten or eleven. He was there as punishment to his parents. Vicious little bastard. He was small, but he felt bigger."
Neither spoke. Harry pushed the stolen memories aside, willing the ugly memories out of mind, and he touched Draco's shoulder.
"Fenrir does that to everyone, doesn't he?" Harry asked. "Brings them into his pack."
Draco nodded once. "Teaches us everything he knows. He's actually nice if you do what he says."
"And if you don't?" Harry asked.
"Lays you open," Draco said matter of factly. "You bleed out onto the ground until you heal. Or sometimes he'd..."
With that, Draco fell silent. Harry waited, but he soon realized he wasn't going to get an answer. Giving up on that question for now, he returned to his first.
"You're different," Harry said. "You're fighting it. Is that why you can change when you want?"
Draco sighed, very tired and wishing Harry would stop asking questions.
"It's blood," he said, irritated that he was answering. "I'm pureblood. Lupin is half-blood. The magic works easier in me than him."
As Draco had expected, Harry's lips pressed into a thin line and he glared. For all his talk, Harry could never control his anger. Normally Draco would bristle and glare back and insult Harry's supposed intelligence. Instead he just felt tired.
"Why do you keep asking questions?" Draco asked. "Especially after I tell you that you'll hate the answers."
"Because blood isn't an answer," Harry said readily. "I'm a half blood and I'm pretty bloody powerful."
"You don't believe that," Draco said. He met Harry's look, met the irritation and surprise head on. "If you did, you wouldn't let Lupin keep you cooped up here. This war would've been over ages ago."
"Is that why you came here?" Harry growled. "To seduce me out of here? Where Voldemort can find me?"
Flinching at the dark lord's name, Draco smiled bitterly. "Seduce you? Really, Potter? Tell me, what did you fall in love with first, my broken hand, my caved in ribs, the way I stand up so manfully to Lupin?"
"Draco--"
"Or maybe it's how I bear up under my curse," Draco said. "Yes, I'm such a catch. Can't take care of my family, cocking everything up, so damn pathetic you lot guard me with children. It's a wonder you didn't fall in love on the first night."
Draco's laughter came harder, rougher. He couldn't stop them, and he couldn't tell if they were real laughs or harsh sobs. As he spoke, he leaned more and more on the table as if he might fall without it.
"Draco--" Harry tried to cut in.
"Of course Vol-Vo--the dark's lord's brilliant plan was to send the broken Malfoy whelp to lure out the hero." Draco cradled his head in his arms, muffling his voice. "That's it! I'll turn into a wolf and carry you back to him, and he'll let my father out of Azkaban and give back our house and...and..."
"Draco!"
The shout didn't make Draco stop, but his voice had dwindled to nothing anyway. Harry sighed and leaned back, annoyed at himself. After all the times that his temper got him in trouble, he still hadn't learned to manage himself better.
"All right," he sighed, "I admit that was a stupid idea. Tell me what you meant by your blood being better than Lupin's."
With a deep breath, Draco turned his head just enough to see Harry from the corner of his eye. He didn't answer.
"I won't get angry," Harry said. "I promise this time."
Snorting despite himself, Draco sat up and turned towards him, although he still sat slouched in exhaustion.
"Half blood is different from pureblood," Draco said, not believing that Harry would really listen. "Half bloods can be powerful, but the magic doesn't move in you the same as us. With pure blood, magic has been part of us for generations back. It flows through us."
Harry didn't look any more convinced, but that he hadn't grown angry gave Draco a little hope. He tried another way to explain.
"When I change," Draco said, "it doesn't hurt as bad as when Lupin changes. His muscles break and reshape and he goes mad. He's fighting the wolf."
"Aren't you fighting the wolf, too?" Harry asked, but without any heat. "You still scream at night. You don't like eating."
"I'm afraid of it," Draco nodded once. "But I'm afraid of a lot of things. I'm not fighting the wolf. If it wants something, I give in. I don't starve it, I don't fight the transformation when it happens."
"I saw you hold it back," Harry argued. "When you first came here. Just before you fought Fenrir, Narcissa was holding you and you were trying to hold it back."
"You saw that?" Draco grimaced. "I have some measure of control because of Sev's potions, but the wolf knew I was going to give in soon enough. Besides, it wasn't a full moon. Fenrir was calling to me. That's why it hurt so much."
"One wolf can call another wolf to change?" Harry asked.
"Fenrir's the pack leader," Draco said. "Unless I can find a new alpha."
"Can't you be your own alpha?" Harry asked.
Draco paused. His eyes widened slightly, but he ended up shaking his head.
"No...no, I couldn't. I'm not brave or strong enough."
Harry tilted his head. "I know you don't like him, but we could ask Lupin. It'd be better than Fenrir--"
"No way," Draco said, shaking his head once. "Alpha means more than just taking orders. It's...it's bad if you don't want it. It's very bad."
Harry's gaze flicked down to where Draco dropped his hand, lightly covering the spot on his hip that he'd shielded before. There was no injury there, nothing that should have hurt, but Harry felt the warm flush on his face as he thought about holding him there, and he imagined why Draco wouldn't like anyone to touch him like that.
Fenrir had done a lot worse things that just that bite, Harry thought.
"Could you change right now?" Harry asked.
Draco tensed. "Why?"
"'Cause I'm not cooped up down here," Harry said. "It's reassuring that you think I am, but I'm not. And I'd like someone with me that's been in a real fight before."
"A fight?" Draco shook his head in dismay. "No no no, what happened to me being more important here? You don't want me in a fight."
"Your senses are better," Harry said. "Especially in the dark. And that's where I have to go next. If I have to be sneaky, I'd rather have a wolf than one of the twins."
"Your Order has..." Draco tried.
Harry shook his head.
"They've been in a few duels, some running fights," Harry said. "Nothing like breaking into a castle that no one's ever been able to get into before. Nothing like facing Fenrir in a one on one fight."
"I ran away from both of those," Draco reminded him.
"Because you aren't a murderer," Harry said, "and you only ran when you knew Narcissa and Severus were safe. Not many people would volunteer to be a distraction."
"I'm a werewolf," Draco insisted. "Why would you want me along?"
"A werewolf that can control himself," Harry said. "Why wouldn't I bring you along?"
Draco stared at him, not convinced. This was some kind of trap. It had to be.
"Why would I go with you?" Draco said. "I'd end up left behind if this isn't some trick in the first place."
"You'll come with me," Harry said. "Because it's a favor. And if you do me a favor, then I will do one for you."
Draco's breath hitched. Rescue his father--Harry could storm Azkaban, Draco knew he could. If Draco helped him, then nothing would stand in their way. Not dementers, not guards, not even the dark lord if he tried.
Something in his face warned Harry, because he immediately turned wary.
"Within reason," Harry said. "You've already got something in mind, don't you?"
"Yes," Draco said quickly. "Nothing bad, I promise. Well, you wouldn't like it much, but he'd help us. I'd just have to convince him first but I'm sure he would."
Harry nodded once. "Your father. I should've known." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, then agreed. "Fine. You help me with this, and we'll get Lucius out of Azkaban. Deal?"
"Deal."
Hoped welled up within him. Draco looked in Harry's eyes for any trace of deceit, but there was nothing but that maddening honesty and determination. He couldn't stop himself--he leaned forward and kissed him, pushing forward so much that Harry had to catch himself on the table so he wouldn't fall.
When he remembered himself and drew back, Draco felt himself burn red with embarrassment, especially when he saw how Harry laughed behind his smile. Draco groaned and turned away.
"Don't tell anyone I did that."
"Sure," Harry said. "S'long as you don't tell them about this."
This kiss wasn't desperate or wild--it was something Draco didn't expect and wasn't sure how to react to. Harry's hand on his arm didn't grip with bruising strength and Harry didn't push him toward the floor. Draco blinked as Harry pulled away, smoothing his blonde hair back and looking him up and down vaguely like a prize.
Draco didn't mind that. Prizes were protected. He couldn't count on his mother or father to protect him, not from the dark lord. Certainly not when he was poisoning them, he reminded himself. But Harry--he could protect him. Draco believed it, even if deep in his heart it still annoyed him.
"You really want a scared, tame werewolf on your side?" he asked, just to be sure.
"'Scared'?" Harry echoed. "Draco, no one's ever faced Fenrir like you did."
With that, Harry stood up and went to the door, turning before he left.
"I have to go get ready, but I'll make sure Hermione brings you dinner. Sleep in late tomorrow. We'll be leaving in the afternoon."
Draco nodded once. "Who else is going with us? Can I tell mother and Sev'? What are we going to do?"
"Just Hermione. And we're going to Paris to find something that Voldemort misplaced."
"Paris?" Draco whispered.
As Harry left, locking the door again, Draco found his exhaustion twisting up with anxiety. Tired as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for awhile, and he started to pace the room. The stools got in his way, so he ended up pushing them all into their places under the tables and tidying up the ingredients, putting away the tools and putting out the lumos charms in the corners.
The moon was more than enough light for him to see by, and Hermione was used to giving him his meals in the dark. She knocked once so that he knew it was her, then delivered dinner while assuring him that none of the Weasley's had poisoned it. She also escorted him upstairs and made him take a pillow and a blanket.
"I don't care if you sleep on the floor," she said, pushing him into his room. "But Harry said you're coming with us, and I don't want you sore or stiff 'cause you didn't sleep on something comfortable."
Forcing himself to take the bedding and nod a goodnight to her, he went in and dumped it all on the rug. She had a point, but the floor was comfortable enough after nights spent on dirt and rocks. And the floor was dry, too. He yawned and started to unclasp his robe.
The lumos charm ignited, lighting the room. Draco startled and looked up with wide eyes at his mother and his master sitting up, glaring at him with their daily medicines left untouched on the nightstand. Draco had the good grace to look sheepish that they had realized they weren't really sick.
"Glad to see you're feeling better," he offered. "I can explain, I swear."
"If you weren't the bloody heir," Severus said, measuring his worlds deliberately, "you would be in for a good thrashing."
"He may still be," Narcissa said, looking darkly at her son. "Start talking, Draco, and I better like what I hear."
"I think you will," Draco said with a faint smile. "Harry's agreed to help me free father."
They both stared at him in shock. A moment passed as they collected their thoughts, and then Narcissa looked back at him.
"In return for what?" she asked warily.
"I have to help him find something," Draco said. "In Paris."
"Paris?" she said to herself. "There's nothing magical about Paris. Except--oh dear."
"Indeed," Severus said, realizing what she meant. "The catacombs."
TBC...