Part 7

In the living room, flanked by Narcissa and Severus, Draco sat quietly still and tried not to look directly at Lupin, Arthur or any other of the Weasleys glaring at him. He felt a measure of safety having his family at his side, but he knew it was false security. They were outnumbered and alive only at Lupin's whim. The knowledge of this still galled Draco, and he knew it rankled his mother and Severus as well. If only they weren't outnumbered, if only they didn't need Harry, if only Lucius had never been imprisoned.

"So good to see you well again," Lupin said as they waited. "I was starting to worry that you wouldn't survive."

"Yes," Arthur added. "Now that Harry's taking Draco with him, how convenient it is that you've recovered."

"I'm sorry our sickness inconvenienced you," Narcissa said as if she were hostess of the party. "But if you don't need any more poisons, then we'll be safe from breathing any more fumes."

"Purely for the war effort, of course," Severus added.

They didn't reply and the room fell silent again. Draco glanced at the stairs, wondering why Harry and Hermione were taking so long. He wished he could've waited in the shape of a wolf-at least the Order of the Phoenix feared him when he was the white wolf-but at the same time, he felt more in control of himself as a human.

He often wondered what it would feel like to stalk through this house as a werewolf, ripping off Molly's head, crunching the twins' throats in his jaws, facing Lupin...

He frowned. In a fight, could he kill Lupin? The other werewolf was completely mad, and Draco wondered if that was an advantage or not. He shook his head to himself. He didn't want to find out.

Draco and Lupin heard the footsteps on the stairs before anyone else. Draco felt a spike of worry drive through him at seeing Harry's outfit so reminiscent of Quidditch. Severus and Narcissa had already explained the Parisian catacombs to him, but to see the Boy Who Lived dressed for combat made this expedition feel all the worse.

Beside Harry, Hermione wore her Hogwarts uniform with a hooded cloak. Draco wondered if she was trying to look mysterious or hide in the shadows, but as they came closer, he spotted the runes sewn messily along the edges of the cloth. The work looked amateurish but Draco didn't doubt the power of the spells she had written into the material. Her fingers looked red and chewed, mostly likely by clumsy needlework, and if she'd bled for her magic, they were so much the stronger for it.

He felt a little stab of pride that she had listened to his explanations about the importance of blood. Why should he be happy that she'd listened to him? She was just a mudblood. But he felt gratified all the same.

"You turning into a seamstress?" George asked her. "Need a bit more practice before we can hire you."

Fred laughed with him. Hermione gave him a look, then turned as Molly spoke up.

"Hermione dear," she said, after she'd glared Fred down into the couch. "Why didn't you mention you wanted runes sewn in? I could've done it for you."

From the pitying tone in her voice, she clearly meant that she could have done a neater job, but Hermione held her head high.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," she said, smiling in a manner Draco recognized but couldn't place. "But you've been so busy and I didn't want to bother you with all the pages of runes I had to go through."

As Hermione turned back to Harry, effectively ending the conversation, Draco suddenly realized where he'd seen that overly polite dismissal before. Hermione was copying his mother.

He smothered his grin before it became obvious. The little mudblood was a clever copycat, learning from everything around her. He could see why Harry kept her around.

"We're ready," Harry said, tightening the leather gauntlet around his left hand. "Draco, do you need anything before we go?"

A wand, a wand, he would do anything for a wand-Draco shook his head.

"Then let's go."

Lupin exhaled in clear aggravation. "Harry, reconsider. You're far too important to risk on a mission like this. Surely Fred and George-?"

Draco spotted Molly's furtive glance away and the tightening of her hand. Lupin had no allies in this fight to keep Harry safely in the Black house. She wouldn't volunteer any of her children for a dangerous trip to Paris, and none of the Weasley brats looked eager to volunteer.

"It has to be me," Harry said, "unless you can sense it's location?"

Lupin glanced at Draco. "You can't trust him."

"We've been over this," Harry said. "Draco won't hurt me."

"This is foolishness," Lupin said. "I can't let you-"

"I'm tired of hearing that," Harry said, walking past him to the fireplace and grabbing the floo powder. "I'm sorry, Lupin. I'm not letting you keep me here anymore."

Draco kept silent, moving only as Hermione passed him so that everyone's focus was her poorly embroidered cloak and not the thin, drawn boy at her side. He wondered what had passed between Harry and Lupin to cause such hostility and foster Harry's rebellion.

Now he had two tantalizing snatches of information-Harry's comment days ago about being at risk from dark magic, and now his offhand mention that he could sense whatever their target was. Something was amiss with their savior, something that Lupin couldn't stop and that Harry didn't seem afraid of. The balance of power had turned and only the dark wizards seemed mystified as to why.

"Coquille d'escargot, Rue de Sorcellerie, Paris," Harry said loudly, tossing the powder into the flames.

As the fire changed color, he stepped through. Hermione followed swiftly with Draco at her heels. The trip through the floo lasted longer than usual, and Draco grabbed the edge of Hermione's cloak so he'd feel her stepping into the proper exit. Magic hummed under his hand, but she only turned to see him holding it, smiled reassuringly, and watched for the coming hearth.

They landed in a mouldering stack of stones that had once been an inn, but had been left to crumble. The second floor had broken and collapsed, leaving the front door blocked. Heavy dust and grime covered the windows. Scant daylight came from the cracked roof, leaving the ruin in a dim yellow gloom.

"What is this place?" Draco whispered.

"One of the old places that the world's forgotten about," Hermione whispered back. "Grindelwald destroyed this street and the French Ministry didn't bother trying to clean out the magic he left behind. They just left it here."

She bent suddenly, picking up an old black coin, trying to polish off the tarnish. "Is it a galleon?"

He looked over her shoulder at it. "No, it's a jaiet. I haven't seen one in years."

"What's a jaiet?"

"Old dark currency," he said. "The front is the raven with its wings spread, the back is the candle. Don't rub it. It's supposed to be black. It's made out of jet."

"Oh..." A thought struck her. "Why is there a dark coin here?"

"This used to be one of our places," Draco said softly. He walked up to the counter where several broken wine and liquor bottles lined the shelves. The mirror behind the counter was huge with a crack in the middle, and black strings of mildew spread out from behind it. "No wonder they let this place rot. It's dark."

"See anything useful?" Harry asked, coming back to them from around the broken roof. Plumes of dust wafted up from the floor. "The entrance has to be here somewhere, but I can't find it."

"There aren't any cellar doors?" she asked. "I would've thought-I mean, to go beneath the street, you have to go down."

"You're thinking like a muggle," Draco said idly, not noticing their looks as he leaned against the bar. "Are you witch or not?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, rankled at hearing that for the second time in her life.

"You're looking for a way into the catacombs?" he asked. "All the other doors are broken in. If the door was made of wood, we'd of seen it by now."

"The door's not a door?" Harry asked.

"Not one a muggle would notice." Draco nodded at the mirror. "Can you repair that crack?"

Hermione nodded and cast a reparo spell. The mirror shuddered as the glass crept over the crack like ice, sealing it up smoothly. An emerald sheen flickered over the glass.

"That's the door," Draco said. "Bet you anything."

"So how do we open it?" Harry asked.

"No idea." Draco shrugged. "Could try blundering through, but you don't always know where you're going to end up."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, turning toward her. "Any ideas?

"Well, I have a guess," she said. "I don't think it's a good one, but..."

"But it's all we have," he said. "Go ahead and try."

Nodding once, she took a deep breath and raised her wand. "Accio skull."

There was a faint rush of air, the scent of dust and mold and decay, and then the mirror rippled like water as something pale yellow flew out at her. She yelped, startled even as she caught it, turning it right side up. A yellow skull grinned back at her.

"Must be the catacombs," Harry said. "I'll go first. Hermione, wait a couple seconds, then follow me. Draco...are you going to change first?"

Draco hesitated, then nodded and started to undo the top of his robe. After a moment, he grew self-conscious of them watching and went behind the counter, kneeling out of sight and letting the robe fall to the floor.

The change was bad enough, but the anticipation made it all the worse. He crossed his arms, putting his hands on shoulders, hesitating as he dug his fingers into his skin. He took a deep breath, clothed his eyes tight, and suddenly his nails were claws that ripped his skin to shreds in one motion.

Blood splattered the floor and wall, his shriek of pain became a howl, and he fell forward onto his hands-his paws. His front legs absorbed the shock and caught him, and as he climbed to his feet, he realized that he was on all fours, panting hard, and his breath was a harsh growl.

"Are you sure he's safe?" Hermione whispered.

"It's fine," Harry said. "We can stun him if we have to."

Draco heard their voices over the whoosh of their hearts beating, the blood pushing through their bodies, the faint whisper of their breath. He turned, padding out slowly as he reaccustomed himself to this body, and sat down facing them.

"Can...can he understand us?" she asked.

"I think so," Harry said. "I got him to follow me back to Grimauld Place. Draco, do you know what we're saying?"

It was easier to predict their movement than to understand their speech. He caught a few words, Grimauld, his name, but the complex sounds were difficult to discern. He didn't bother to try. He walked to Harry's side and snuffed his ankles, learning his scent.

"All right," Hermione said, turning to the window but keeping Draco in the corner of her eye. "Let's go then."

Harry went to the mirror and touched it. The surface dimpled under his fingers, and he put his whole hand through, then drew it out quickly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"Nothing," Harry assured her. "Just cold."

He climbed up on the counter and stepped through, swallowed by his reflection. Hermione waited a moment as if expecting him to rush back, but as the seconds passed and he didn't reappear, she steeled herself and went through.

Left alone in the silence, Draco whined once, giving vent to the fear welling up in him, then followed.

The chill ruffled his fur and his breath misted, but the catacombs were no more uncomfortable than the forest at night. The light from Harry's wand lit up the stacks of bones surrounding them. Arranged in decorative rows, hundreds of skulls watched them with silent black gazes. The air was still, punctuated only by the steady drip of water somewhere in the darkness.

Hermione cast her own lumos charm. The effect was that of two pitiful candles against a sea of shadows. She and Harry moved close together, clinging to each other's light, and only as they backed towards Draco did the wall come into view.

"It feels like we're in a cave," Hermione whispered. "A huge cave I can't see the ends of."

"It's all right," Harry said. "If anything really bad happens, you can just apparate back to the other side of the mirror."

"I don't think so." She touched the thick stone. "There's no way to tell how far that door took us. If we tried to apparate, we could end up splinched into the ground."

She took the jaiet coin and scraped the wall with it, leaving a black mark pointing the direction they were going. It would be their only map. She picked up a skull and tried to transfigure it, but the bone was too old and disintegrated at her spell.

"Should've thought to bring yarn," she said softly.

Draco gave her a cursory sniff and sneezed at the magic sewn into her cloak. The runes formed spicy spells that made his nose twitch, and he left her side, coming up to Harry and then walking ahead, exploring the smells of the catacombs. The bones were far too old to smell of flesh or blood. There was only dust, stone, and the damp.

Too busy studying the room beyond what they could see, Draco at first missed what Harry said. He looked over his shoulder as Harry called his name, and while he didn't understand the mess of Harry's voice mixed with his heartbeat and blood and breath, he caught a few words.

Jar. Voldemort. Beast.

Did Harry mean for him to sniff out a jar, fight death eaters or watch out for a monster? Draco couldn't tell, and he worried that he might face something down here, something that wouldn't think twice about attacking a werewolf. Or would they come across death eaters, Voldemort, Fenrir-?

His heart quailed, and he retreated to Harry's heels, looking out from behind his robes. Behind them, Hermione sighed.

"Figures," she said. "Our werewolf's a 'fraidy cat."

"He'll fight when he has to," Harry said. "You didn't see him attack Fenrir."

She frowned skeptically. "No one would fight Fenrir straight on."

Harry smiled back. "He did. Turned tail and ran the moment he could, but-you should've seen it. Half Fenrir's size and hanging onto his hind leg by his teeth."

Draco felt something gently touch his head. He stopped and looked up, finding Harry patting his head. His first instinct was to crane his neck back and bite the hand off. The hot blood would warm him against the cold. But the touch was pleasant, and he liked the person doing it, and Draco consciously nudged the wolf to enjoy the patting rather than the screaming and searing revenge that would come if he gave into his hunger.

Besides, perhaps they would meet a monster or enemy down here and then Draco could eat his fill. Nursing that happy thought, the wolf walked on, silent with ears straining, nose twitching and jaws slightly agape for the hint of living flesh nearby.

"Careful," Hermione whispered. "Don't treat him like a dog."

"He won't bite me," Harry said. "Relax."

They came to the first corridor, a cramped hallway with a low ceiling that nearly brushed their heads. Their small circle of light seemed to grow tight, a little white ball with darkness ahead and behind. Watching Draco for any whimper or growl, they ventured deeper into the catacombs, and with their conversation held over his head, Draco was left to his thoughts, blunted by the wolf's primal instincts, wondering what was down here that had them so worried that they would want a werewolf for protection.

After an hour of the curving corridors, the stacks of bones no longer looked so ominous. Draco was tempted to take a long bone and gnaw on it as he walked, purely to give his teeth something to do. The longer he stayed in this shape, the more he wanted to turn on his companions. He didn't feel the same pain maddened hate that fueled Lupin's wolf. Rather he was simply hungry and hadn't eaten breakfast.

The growling in the distance came as a relief. As they came to a juncture between two other tunnels, the faint rumbling of something alive came from somewhere far out of sight. Hunger overcame Draco's cowardice and he kept walking until he realized Harry and Hermione had stopped. Half in shadow, Draco looked over his shoulder at them, head cocked quizzically.

"Is that it?" Hermione whispered in an impossibly small voice.

The growls sounded like they were miles away, echoing all around them.

"Probably," Harry breathed back. "I can't sense it."

"It might not be dark," she said. "Could just be big."

Harry cursed in frustration. "Dammit, there's no way of telling where it is."

"Think it knows we're here?" she asked.

The growling sounded louder and a faint smell of putrenscent ichor swelled through the corridor.

"I think so," Harry said. "We need to find an open place to fight."

"There was that chamber awhile back," she said, but he shook his head.

"It'll be on us before we can reach it." He nodded forwards. "We'll just have to hope the tunnel opens up before it reaches us."

They hurried along the path, careful to stay behind Draco. His tail thumped Harry's legs as they jogged.

Deep rumbling followed the growls, a violent shaking that brought sifts of dust from above. The stone trembled under their feet. Heavy footsteps echoed all around them, but all too soon they could sense it coming from straight ahead. The stench of dried blood and rotted meat grew so overwhelming that they gagged.

To Draco, however, the scent was of easy meat, long dead and ready for devouring. He growled in satisfaction and plunged forward, leaving Harry and Hermione behind.

"No!" Harry yelled. "Draco!"

"He can't kill the beast," Hermione said, "not by himself!"

They sped as quick as they could through the tunnels, but the ground was uneven and the walls were so cramped that they had to slow down instead of slamming themselves against the rough stone.

Up ahead, Draco saw nothing. He'd outrun Harry's light, but he ran without worrying about hitting the wall. Although the catacombs were pitch black, the smell of meat was so strong that he tasted it in the air. The scent alone would lead him, and he followed it so fast that he slammed his shoulder into the beast's snout before it could attack.

By the impact, he knew he was smaller than the monster he couldn't see, only half its size if that, but the speed and force of his strike left his shoulder cracked and its snout bloodied. He heard it spit out teeth.

Limping backward, Draco snarled and kept his fangs bared. His human thoughts fought with the wolf, forced himself to remember what little his mother and Severus knew about this creature. A devourer of women and children, a punishment from God on the those who placed too much faith on worldly answers, and a demon in an animal's skin-little was known about the monster that had slaughtered dozens of muggles and wizards before vanishing underground. It had no name, but everyone knew it as the Beast of Gevaudan.

Could it smell him? The stench was thick all around them. It stumbled through the darkness, roaring so loud that his ears hurt. He snarled back, knowing he couldn't intimidate it, and made an exploratory lunge that would have bitten a person's arm off.

His teeth found skin stretched tight on bone and ragged fur clumped with dirt. A burst of blood filled his mouth even as he jumped back, followed by its howl and a violent swipe of its own. Something whipped against Draco's shoulder, dragging fire that dripped wetly down his front leg. The scent of blood warred with the rotten meat.

Draco jumped at the pain, hitting his head against the low ceiling. The walls suddenly cramped up tight against him like a cage. He couldn't tell where the tunnel opened or where the beast was. The roar and darkness and blood was everywhere.

Panicking, he howled as the beast found him again and slashed, bit, slammed its body against his as it roared again. Draco stumbled sideways, tumbling along the floor. His wounded shoulder crushed against the stone. The beast stepped on his leg, snapping it clean through.

Draco bit wildly at anything he could get his mouth around-stone that hurt his teeth, bones that exploded into powder, fur and skin that shredded under his fangs. The beast jerked back and pulled Draco up with it, wrenching the small werewolf up hard against the ceiling.

Pressed against the wall, Draco had no way to run and a world of pain driving him mad. As he dropped back to his feet, he reared up on his hind paws and slashed wildly with his claws. Fur-skin-blood-deep into flesh he tore. The beast's jaws clenched around his hind leg like knives, stabbing like his whole leg would shear off.

Draco fell forward onto the beast's bony shoulders, and he locked his fangs down on its neck. The beast flailed as its spine cracked under the pressure, locking down harder on Draco's leg in desperation. As Draco felt his leg start to come apart, he bit with all his strength, crushing the beast's backbone between his teeth, and the beast suddenly went limp. Its jaws opened and its teeth slid out of him.

As the body fell under him, Draco leaned against it, waiting until he heard the heart stop and the breath rattle out of his throat before he let go. Whimpering, he twisted and arched in pain as his wounds mended. His shoulder blades knit themselves back together. The flesh of his thigh crawled into place. His breaths came too shallow, and he started to shiver. His eyes started to close.

"...draco..."

"...draco..."

He raised his head. In the stillness, he heard distant voices calling his name. There was no way they'd find him. How many forks and branches did these tunnels have? The voices grew louder, then began to fade as they turned aside.

"...draco, where are you..."

That was Harry's voice. Draco tried to draw breath to howl, but his chest shuddered. Transform back into a human? Who knew what damage he'd do to himself if he transformed now. But he wanted to be found.

With his uninjured arm, he reached out and scraped his claws against the wall. Like steel dragged down chalk, the high pitched screech travelled through the catacombs. In a moment, he heard their footsteps running close and saw the glimmer of light coming towards him.

"Oh Merlin...look at that thing. All that blood-"

"I don't think it's all his," Harry said. "Look, he's healing up."

Draco raised his head slowly. In the cool air, he felt the heat of Harry's body coming close. So much healing had left him ravenously hungry, and Harry's blood would be warm and sweet...

"Don't get close to him," Hermione warned. "He's still a werewolf."

"It's fine," Harry said. "It's just Draco-"

"Look out!"

Harry leaped back just as Draco's jaws snapped shut on empty air. He raised his wand, ready to cast a spell, but he hesitated as Draco sank to the ground with a groan.

"You can't trust him," Hermione said, coming to Harry's side. "Not when he's like this."

"Right..." Harry said slowly. "He's a werewolf. And he's hungry."

"And he's been hurt," Hermione said. "He's almost healed up. Make him transform. If we need him to be a wolf again, he can always turn back."

Nodding at her, Harry turned and knelt in front of Draco, wand at the ready. With childish cajoling words, he whispered soothingly just out of arm's reach.

"Can you turn back for me? Draco, can you be human for me? Can you? Please turn back?"

Draco watched him through half-lidded eyes. At first Harry didn't think Draco understood him, but then the fur faded and white skin appeared. Too white. He looked as white as chalk, as if every drop of blood had been lost.

Harry took off his cloak and put it around Draco's shoulders. "That's my good werewolf. Are you okay?"

Draco blinked slowly. "Harry...it hurts."

"I know," Harry said, sweeping Draco's long blonde hair out of his eyes. "It'll be all right. We're almost there now."

"Where?" Draco mumbled.

"Very close," Harry said. "Can you walk?"

Draco closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"He can," Hermione muttered. "He just doesn't want to."

"He doesn't have to," Harry said. "I'll carry him."

"Harry, what if-"

Draco felt Harry slide close, putting his arm over his shoulders. He refused to let Harry get an arm under his legs, though, smacking his hand away.

"Okay, okay, no carrying," Harry said, but he was smiling as he stood, helping Draco back to his feet and refusing to let him stand on his own.

"How much further?" Harry called over his shoulder.

"Can't be much," she said. "The lithopaedion is supposed to be in the beast's chamber." She shone her wand down two tunnels that branched out. "But how we'll find that in this maze..."

"Straight ahead," Draco slurred, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "Can't you smell it?"

"I can't tell any difference," Harry said. "It all smells the same."

"Well," Hermione said. "His nose would know different."

She kicked the dead beast as she crept by to make sure it was dead. Now that they could see it clearly, it looked less like a beast and more like an overgrown rat, a werewolf that had probably lost its way in the catacombs. Its claws and teeth were wet with Draco's blood, but the teeth were yellowed and chipped with age. The skin stuck to its bones and its stomach clung to its back. Dead skin mouldered on its body. The stench of rotting meat had been its own.

"Now I'm really glad we brought him with us," she said. "I wouldn't want to face that thing in the dark. It must've starved down here."

Draco wanted to comment that even half-starved, it had nearly killed him. Instead his thought died in his throat as they stepped over a layer of crushed and splintered bones, finally coming to a large chamber where the walls were too far out to be seen by their light charms.

"There!" Hermione said, running forward.

Harry brought Draco along slowly, giving him time to move his feet. Soon enough they could see Hermione standing before a broken altar. The beast had obviously stepped on it and gnawed off chunks, but the heavy wood had resisted most of its efforts at destroying it. On the floor beneath the altar lay the item they'd come for, long fallen behind its place of honor and revealed only by the gouge in the altar's top piece.

It was a stone lump no bigger than Hermione's hand. Yellowed ivory in color, it stood out from the rock catacombs. The shape was obscured by layers of calcium built up over its surface, but the edges were unmistakable. Draco froze. He hadn't seen one of these in his life, but he had heard much about them from Severus.

A lithopaedion. A stone baby.

Hermione took off her cloak and covered the stone, wrapping it up safely. The cloak hummed again, clearly meant for holding this object. She turned and nodded at Harry.

He nodded back. It didn't seem proper to speak in this place. Hermione came around Draco's other side and let him put his arm over her shoulders. Wordlessly they started walking back, following Hermione's marks on the wall.

TBC...