Title: The Secret's In The Telling

Authoress: Sakuri

Rating: T

Summary: Draco Malfoy, pureblood and Slytherin prince, suffers the unthinkable when he is attacked and bitten by Remus Lupin. How is he supposed to live any kind of life afterwards, especially when Potter continues to stick his unwanted nose into things? DMHP, SSRL

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter 13: In The Name of Preparation

xxx

That weekend Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement. Hermione had cast him a worried look as he'd left the common room alone, but since this was the first time in over a week he'd disappeared, she'd let him go without comment.

Now, lying on his back on the stern-looking bed the Room had conjured, he absently spun his wand between his finders like a baton, staring up at it. The book on Animagi was next to him, open to a page nearing the end. He was almost done with his study now, ready to attempt the transformation in a few days. He was looking forward to that, if only because it meant finally being able to tell his friends what he'd been doing all this time. He hadn't told them yet because Hermione would have said it was dangerous, and Ron would have wanted to join in, which would have been a distraction.

But for the moment, he couldn't concentrate on reading. His mind flitted from one topic to the next, never settling, going from the Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quiddich match coming up, to his conversation with Ron that morning about Snape still being missing, and finally to the Transfiguration homework he was supposed to be doing right now.

Sighing, he dropped his wand onto the bed next to him. In what was quickly becoming a habit, he pressed his fingers to the centre of his chest, where his new scar crossed. Its presence didn't bother him as much as Ron and Hermione seemed to think it should. It wasn't exactly disfiguring. Barely noticeable, in fact, just a silvery line on his skin, neat and almost surgical. Like he'd said, the only thing that really galled him was that Malfoy had got the better of him with a cheap trick. Or a Slytherin trick, as the blond called it. How typical.

Rolling his eyes, he thought back to the unfortunate DA lesson. Ron would murder him for the thoughts going through his head, but he couldn't help but feel that Malfoy had been – or, rather, could be – helpful. For the first time, the demonstration he'd staged had been realistic. Alright, the Slytherin had been excessive – stupidly so – but Harry couldn't get rid of the memory of how rapt the entire gathering of students had been during the duel. They'd been shocked and angry that Malfoy actually wanted to do damage, and was prepared to ignore the rules to do so, so different from their usual practice duels – but at the same time, they'd seen something real. Anyone they faced during the war would fight in the same way as the Slytherin – wanting to hurt. The DA members, supposedly Hogwarts' junior defence, would have to get used to that. But it was… It was something he couldn't teach them.

Malfoy could, though.

He was the perfect controllable factor in a controllable environment. Capable of providing a challenge, an enemy, of sorts, and unpopular enough to inspire fear and hatred from the other students – emotions they'd also have to adjust to, Harry thought.

Some part of him knew he was being perhaps too clinical about the matter, but he told himself not to worry. This, after all, was what was needed. The DA was his responsibility, and at the very least, he'd have them prepared for what was to come.

xxx

Draco had left the castle some time after lunch, and wandered slowly down towards the little hut at the edge of the forest, careful to make sure no one saw him. He hadn't thought his ego could take another blow like that.

Now, he sat stiffly in one of Lupin's armchairs, deeming it more appropriate than the rug this time. He'd impatiently refused the offers of tea and biscuits – was still refusing them, as the older man renewed his offer every time the silence lasted too long. He didn't want to be here. Merlin, he'd gladly get up and walk out right now if it wasn't for the lingering threat of losing his mind. It was that lack of control which scared him more than anything; the thought that he could be changed and ruled by the creature in him even when it wasn't a full moon.

So he stayed, and forced himself to talk and listen.

The first time he'd shown up here in the middle of the night and embarrassed himself with his emotional breakdown, Lupin had only let him leave with the promise that he'd come back at least once and hear what the other werewolf had to say. So here he was, making sure his host knew exactly how unimpressed he was.

"It's only a week until the full moon," Lupin commented at length, when the quiet began to stretch between them for probably the tenth time. He sipped his tea, carefully averting his eyes from the blond.

Draco flicked his gaze skyward in annoyance. "Really? I'd totally forgotten…" he muttered, voice dripping sarcasm.

"I'd been intending to suggest something to you, as it happened…"

"Hn."

The Professor set his cup down gently on the small table between them. He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. "Now, hear me out before you say no –"

"Oh, this sounds promising."

"Now, really," Lupin said, frowning, his mild-mannered disapproval proving completely ineffectual on the Slytherin. "I'm trying to help."

Draco sighed through gritted teeth and fell silent.

"I… I was going to suggest that, on the first night of the full moon, you… Well, that you spend the night here."

Had Draco at any point accepted a cup of tea from the man, he imagined he would have choked right then. Instead, he gaped. "Excuse me?"

"Well, not here here," Lupin added hastily, seeing the blonde's expression. "In… in the forest, actually."

"What?" He was growing shriller, but couldn't quite help it.

The older werewolf sighed, casting around for an explanation that would justify what he was trying to say, rather than make it sound worse, which was all he was succeeding in doing. "I tried to tell you this before, but I think it's safe to say you were less than attentive at the time. If you're ever going to live with the curse, you have to… acknowledge it, I suppose. It's worse for those of us who try to hide it. I remember what it was like, back when I was at school… But the point is –"

"What in Merlin's name does this have to do with spending the night in the forest?"

Lupin flushed, as if realising exactly what his words sounded like. "I'm not saying this right," he admitted, shaking his head. "What I mean is… You're still acting like everything is normal – and that's fine, when you're in public, or around those you don't trust. But at some point, when you're on your own, or… or some other convenient time, such as the full moon, when you have no choice, you need to accept the thing inside you."

They stared at each other intently, until the Slytherin's grey eyes flashed and he arched an eyebrow, turning away. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

"I don't want to," he muttered, stubbornly.

Lupin shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he answered bluntly, surprising the other into looking back at him. "I'm giving you the easy option, asking if you want to spend those three nights experiencing something different, something you might even enjoy, rather than being locked up inside your private rooms. If you'd prefer, I could also suggest things like counselling, or meeting with others such as myself, or any number of less preferable –"

"You don't have any right –"

"No, I probably don't." Amber eyes regarded him steadily, for once unflinching in the face of outrage. "But if I'm capable of helping you, I'll do it whether you like it or not, Mr Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, how very noble. But you're forgetting that you actually can't make me get… counselling. You're sworn to secrecy, remember?"

The older werewolf, oddly, looked quite unfazed. "You're right, I can't make you do anything. The… Headmaster, however…"

The Slytherin thought Lupin might as well have just hit him. He shook his head faintly, rising to stand. "You can't… He wouldn't…"

The Professor sighed. "This is the reason he's keeping me here, Draco. He won't let me quit because he knows I can help you. But if you won't let me, and refuse to listen, then I can only recommend to him a best course of action…"

"You're threatening me? You?"

"This is not a threat! This is help! This is so you don't lose you're mind to the curse!" The older werewolf broke off, putting a hand over his eyes until he could speak calmly again. "The only reason I was able to act like a normal human being throughout my school years was because I had James and… and Sirius, who helped me during those three nights. Because they accepted it, so could I. Let me do the same for you."

Draco's lip curled as he stared down at the Professor. "By running through the goddamned forest like an animal?"

"It's… well, it's the only way I know how. It worked for me."

"Comforting," Draco scoffed, throwing up his hands and half turning away. "What exactly would this… outing involve?"

Lupin opened his mouth to answer, then stopped with a frown. He shook his head. "If I tried to put it into words, it would only sound even stupider. You have to experience it to understand."

"Oh for god's sake," Draco snapped, annoyed. Scowl firmly in place, he turned his back on the older werewolf and stalked toward the door.

He was halfway gone when Lupin called out after him, "I expect you here Friday night, Mr Malfoy."

The Slytherin never acknowledged that he'd heard anything, so Remus was left to watch him storm away across the school grounds, just hoping that he'd listen.

xxx

The nerve of that man! How dare he threaten and blackmail him? Especially when he was still supposed to be moping around in his own guilt. Draco hadn't really expected that moping to end anytime soon, which was probably the real reason he was as angry as he was right now…

And as if his day couldn't get any worse – Why was he continuously thinking that lately? His life must really be in a downward spiral for it to have become a reoccurring phrase in his vocabulary – but to return to the point: as if his day couldn't get any worse, by the time he turned the corner into the hallway leading to his room, he was just in time to see Potter settling himself comfortably on the floor, of all places, his back to the wall opposite the portrait of Lilith, who was chatting away flirtatiously.

"I knew you'd come back," she was saying, to Draco's bemusement and mild horror. "After we were interrupted so rudely last time, I was so mad! I changed the password, you know. It took him ages to guess it!"

The Slytherin flushed hotly as Potter chuckled, still not having noticed his presence. That was not a memory he'd ever intended to share, especially with Boy Wonder! Honestly, reduced to standing about until some god-awful hour of the night rattling off a list of random words he thought the sorceress might have chosen. It had been excruciating, especially as the threats of curses didn't work on a painting.

"Interrupting something, am I, Potter?" he snarled as he approached, startling the Gryffindor, who got to his feet hastily.

Lilith tutted. "Oh, not again…"

Draco sneered. "Can't you even get a real girlfriend?" he snapped spitefully. "Had to resort to chatting up a portrait?"

Green eyes looked unimpressed. "I came to talk to you, actually."

The blond didn't even acknowledge that particular statement. Instead, Draco stalked past him, spitting out the password – "Runespore," – and disappearing through the door that was revealed, obviously expecting to be left alone.

Harry watched expectantly, disappointed, waiting for the gilded frame to swing back into place. When it didn't move, he looked up to see the sorceress wink at him. "Go on in, darling," she murmured, smiling.

Raising his eyebrows, the Gryffindor hesitantly entered, looking around curiously. He found himself in Malfoy's living room – Merlin, what an odd thought – which consisted of a dark polished coffee table (buried under Quiddich magazines and school books), a fireplace and mantle on the far wall (adorned with fancy clock, wizarding ornaments that tended to amble up and down whatever surface they were placed upon, and an open box of expensive looking chocolates), as well as the black leather couch to the right (complete with discarded school robes and Slytherin tie).

Harry's first reaction was to smirk at how messy the place was. He'd called Malfoy every name he could think up in his time, but a slob had never been on the list before now. The blond seemed too… prissy to be untidy.

Appearances could be deceptive, apparently.

But as Harry continued to stare about the place, thinking of how spacey it was, it occurred to him how… alone a person must feel here, without Housemates. The room was easily as well furnished as any of the common rooms – and generally in better condition, with the plush green carpet and good-quality furniture – but the Gryffindor doubted if all that equalled better.

At that moment, Malfoy, who had been nowhere to be seen, made his reappearance from the hallway in the far right corner, practically doing a double-take at the sight of Harry standing in his living room uneasily.

"Potter? What in hell are you doing?"

The Gryffindor pointed automatically over his shoulder. "She... uhm, well…"

Grey eyes narrowed. "You and my portrait have an unhealthy relationship, you know that?"

Harry couldn't resist smirking. "Least she lets me in," he commented with fake innocence.

"Get out!"

Swiftly covering his amusement, Harry became serious again. "Malfoy, did it occur to you that I have a reason for being here? I'm not exactly craving your company…"

"Whatever," the blond snapped, his irritation coming off him in waves. "I don't care. Get out."

"I wanted to ask you about what happened," he went on, ignoring the blatant dismissal. "Y'know, at DA…"

"I thought we went over this." The Slytherin sighed, folding his arms in what Harry was beginning to recognise as a defensive posture.

"We did, but this is different."

"Oh, fantastic," Draco spat out sarcastically. "Yet another aspect to the whole bloody disaster… What the hell is it, Potter?"

Harry had originally had a plan for the introduction of his proposal, but he couldn't seem to remember it. Instead, the only question that came to his lips, in a curiously eager voice, was:

"Where did you even learn something like that?"

The blond shrugged. "Read it somewhere," he answered evasively, not quite meeting the Gryffindor's eyes. "Anyway, I got detentions with McGonagall from now into the distant future, so if you're here to give another righteous speech you can stop right now. I think I'm being punished enough, thanks…"

Harry snorted, looking sceptical, but let it go. Arguing over his near-death experience wasn't why he was here.

"Malfoy, how much Dark magic do you know? Besides that curse, I mean."

It was almost funny to see the Slytherin look so shifty and defensive. Harry's mouth tilted in a smile, barely visible, but enough to set the blond off yet again.

Obviously annoyed by the nonchalance, Malfoy glared at him and snapped out, "What's it to you, anyway? Intend to take a full inventory before you report me to Dumbledore?"

The Gryffindor laughed lightly. "What, you think he doesn't already know full well what you're capable of? That man knows everything." He shook his head. "But no, I wanted your help, actually."

The blond raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. That, evidently, was not the response he'd been waiting for. "And why, Potter, would I help you?"

Harry shrugged, raising a hand to tick off points on his fingers. "Well, firstly, you're still obligated to come to the DA meetings – you better not have lost that Galleon, by the way. Secondly, you'll probably like this favour. Thirdly, you can pay me back for almost offing me –"

"What happened to being even?" Malfoy snapped, glaring. Then the second point seemed to register. "And I most certainly will not like doing anything –"

"You will," the Gryffindor stated calmly. "It involves free licence to curse anyone at the meetings."

The Slytherin blinked, taken aback. He opened his mouth once, then closed it, paused, before trying again. "I know there's a catch here, Potter…" It went unsaid that he couldn't quite find it.

The other boy chuckled. "No catch. But I draw the line at Unforgivables. Well, and anything you don't know how to reverse, really, but other than that –"

"You're not serious."

Harry grinned. "I could go into a full explanation of how I think you'd make a good example of a Dark wizard and preparing them for battle and exposing them to certain realities – but I think you'd just prefer to hear that, yes, I'm serious about letting you curse my friends."

The pair stared at each other, probably both thinking along the same lines about how unlikely a sentence that had been to come out of the mouth of the Boy Who Lived. Grey eyes still reflected distrust, but with it a spark of interest.

"And you really think they're going to go for this?" Draco scoffed, trying to remain aloof and rather bored.

The other shrugged. "I'll talk to them," he answered dismissively – secretly wondering what in hell he could possibly say during a conversation like that to make them agree to the idea – before assuming an expectant expression. "Do we have a deal?"

A deal. Hah. Once, Harry would have been disgusted with himself for this, and somewhere, he knew his father was spinning in his grave. He could just imagine what James would think of this. Subjecting the DA – his friends – to anything Malfoy threw at them, all in the name of preparation.

A very slow smile was spreading on the blonde's face, and he looked at Harry with new consideration. Grey eyes glinted. "Even Weasley?" he asked eventually, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Harry fought to hide his amusement at the condition, but nodded. "Even Ron," he answered. "I'm sure he'd be happy to have at you."

Draco snorted. "As if he could touch me," he muttered, though it was without the usual malice. He was distracted, eyes unfocused in thought.

Finally, he looked back, pale features back to their expressionless appearance. "Fine. Deal, Potter."

Harry smiled, genuinely pleased at the agreement. That, surely, had to be a first – being happy around Malfoy.

"Now get the hell out."

Nice that most things were still the same, though, he thought idly, as he hastily took his leave.