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? HPDM, SSRL

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter 24: The Power of Observation

xxx

Remus had been increasingly aware of the concept of werewolf mates. His own wavering loyalty and confused feelings about Severus had pushed the idea to the forefront of his mind – unfortunate, considering the Potions Master had taken seconds to seize the thoughts, scrutinise them mercilessly and laugh at his insecurities.

"You needn't worry, Lupin," he'd sneered at the time. "It would never happen. You can remain perfectly faithful to the late Sirius Black." He'd spat the name like poison.

Remus had to wonder what on earth could be wrong with him that he found himself both despising and attracted to Severus and his cruelty. The last session between them had gotten entirely out of hand, resulting in childish hexes being hailed across the other man's rooms. The wolf had, for once, even come to his aid, eager for the chance to get at the Potions Master, who was the cause of what it saw as Remus's betrayal of his mate. Its fury had given him the burst of speed and strength that had landed Severus on his back with Remus straddling him, snarling, his wand forgotten.

Black eyes had widened in fear for a split second, and then quickly glazed over with contempt. "You're going to take what you want by force now, Lupin?" he'd spat, and Remus, disgusted by the mere implication, and a little with himself, had left without another word.

There was no logical explanation. It wasn't like it was real attraction, anyway, he told himself. It was the lingering remnants of a deluded adolescent fantasy, from a time when the other man had been just a little less jaded and abrasive. It was a morbid fascination for something he could never have, and maybe a side effect of the horrible intimacy they shared these days.

Thinking this, he huffed and raised his eyes to the moon, using a hind paw to scratch idly behind an ear. Nearby, Harry and Draco tussled and chased each other, tumbling in and out of his peripheral vision.

In that moment, he was glad he wasn't in human form. His expression would have shown too much. He wanted to smile, but from the heart of him, sorrow bloomed and blossomed.

Never had he been so certain that he was watching another werewolf and his mate.

Neither of them knew it yet, of course, but Harry had always been slow on the uptake, and Draco submerged in denial. Remus saw it. He'd seen it since the first time he'd taken the pair running. In fact, it had been so like a flashback to his own sixth year, with Sirius, that he'd lost himself in memory more than once. Merlin, the strange beauty and familiarity of the situation astounded him. How could this possibly be happening twice, even in the nexus of magic that was Hogwarts…? Especially between these two, of all people – Harry, Sirius's godson and so eerily like the man on occasion, and Draco, who was, for all intents and purposes, his own responsibility. The reflection was impossible to ignore and painful to watch.

So while the two teenagers danced around each other, fighting against the connection he could see was already drawing them together, his own mind was in turmoil. He felt obligated to watch out for them, to guide them if he could, particularly Draco. It surprised him to realise he was growing protective of the younger werewolf, who had few adult allies right now. Lucius Malfoy was a joke of a father, in Remus's opinion, if he could encourage his son to a life in the Dark, and then walk away when the boy declined. Narcissa had evidently chosen her husband's side, and with Severus in his current mood for whatever inexplicable reason, Draco had to be feeling somewhat abandoned. And as a result, Remus could feel every mother-wolf instinct in him rally in response. The boy was part of his pack, as was Harry. He'd treat them as such.

But good God was it hard to suppress the wave of envy that rose up in him every time he saw them together. Not so long ago, he'd had what they had now, and oh how he wanted it back…

But he wasn't stupid, and he'd stopped clinging to false hope months ago. His mate was gone, and though Remus missed him – would always miss him, to some extent – he had let him go.

Perhaps that was a good thing, he wasn't sure. Minerva said it was a good thing, when they'd last spoken. The only thing that Remus knew for sure was that, without Sirius, he was left with Severus – and that didn't seem to be working out very well, right now…

xxx

Once again, the night flew by in a haze of excitement and competition, ending finally when the werewolves and Harry returned to the little cottage in exhaustion, flopping down onto their respective, makeshift beds.

It was a dark morning, even when light finally came, sinking triumphant claws into the grey, wet skies. It rained moodily, chilling the early morning atmosphere. Yet despite the outside cold, Draco was warm.

He smiled dreamily, trying not to open his eyes and break the trance of half-sleep he was caught in. The wolf had returned to the back of his mind, sated and safe. For the moment, anyway. As always, he felt like a massive pressure he hadn't quite been aware of had suddenly released. Relishing the comfort, he stretched like a cat, back arching and fingers curling in the sheet thrown over him.

In the same manner Harry had been startled into waking a month ago, Draco abruptly became aware of the very close presence of another person.

The pleasant warmth suddenly became overbearing as he realised, with slow dawning, that he was entangled with another body. And, worse, even without opening his eyes, he knew who it was. Potter's distinctive scent – the oddly mingled smell of boy and dog and rain, not unpleasant – filled his nose, making the wolf utter a tiny, happy growl of recognition before resuming its doze, sinking even further into relaxation. Draco, on the other hand, felt as if every muscle in him had just gone tense.

Potter. He was lying with Potter. Lying on him! What the hell…?

The Gryffindor snuffled in his sleep and shifted. The arm under Draco's head and around his shoulders tightened slightly, forcing him to restrain a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. Every tiny part of his bare skin that came into contact with the other boy was on fire. Intimate contact. Intimate contact everywhere. He could feel the denim of Potter's jeans rough on his leg, which had been thrown over the other's hips. Beneath his hand, the Gryffindor's chest rose and fell steadily and a slow heartbeat hummed.

What was this?

Just like before, in the hall near the foyer under the Invisibility Cloak, the close contact unnerved him deeply. He braced himself, ready to push away and untangle himself as fast as possible, even if it meant losing his dignity with Potter waking up and seeing this god-awful mess – but abruptly, the wolf in him growled and lurched into life again, protesting any movement he might have in mind. It wanted to stay put, damn it, and was apparently trying its best to make Draco want the same thing.

And Draco might have put up more of a fight, had he not at that moment noticed the sliver of green beneath a splay of lashes, watching him. Potter was indeed already awake and witness to his humiliation. The Slytherin froze up, unable, even, to extract himself from their compromising position.

"P-Potter…" He hated the weakness of his stammer, but even Malfoys couldn't be expected to remain unaffected while lying naked with one's rival.

And there was a thought he'd never get out of his head…

Gaze blurry without his glasses, which lay to the side, Harry glanced down at them and sighed with only vague annoyance. "Again…?" The word was spoken quietly, almost to himself, and wholly muffled by the thickness of sleep.

Blond eyebrows shot up swiftly. Again? What did he mean, 'again'? "I wasn't aware that this was a common occurrence," he felt the need to point out, rather sharply, forcefully ignoring the rising pitch of his voice.

The Gryffindor frowned and closed his eyes against the jarring exclamation, not yet ready to relinquish sleep and comfort. Despite his apparent exasperation with their position, he was disinclined to move from it. Right now, anyway. "Oh," he muttered eventually, in response, suppressing a yawn. "Well it is. Go back to sleep, Draco…"

The wolf yowled and whined in agreement, practically sulking as it sent a bombardment of half-formed concepts at him, pleading with him to lie back and return to the deliciously warm and scented embrace. Similarly, the use of his first name almost felt as if it had been layered with an Imperio, and before Draco could really think about the consequences of his actions, he found himself hesitantly returning his head to where it had previously rested.

Somewhere, common sense was shrieking in panic at the back of his head. It demanded to know what he thought he was doing, and that didn't he realise this was Harry sodding Potter, of all people, and for God's sake he wasn't gay!

The wolf growled until common sense shut up, then settled itself down to rest with its mate.

xxx

They didn't talk about it, afterwards. As seemed to be customary, Harry made sure he was gone before Draco woke a second time, pausing only to leave a tidily folded pile of the Slytherin's clothes before he left. Any potential awkwardness was neatly avoided by the pair of them steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the situation. Privately, Remus tutted and sighed and shook his head, but did nothing to interfere. Neither teen would appreciate it, he was sure…

Ron took his leave Saturday afternoon, with a tight goodbye to Harry and a lingering look for Hermione, probably one he considered subtle. Though Harry caught the glance, he couldn't translate it, and didn't really care to. For all he knew, it could mean anything from Ron finally deciding to act on his feelings for the witch, or a silent reminder for her to interrogate him even further.

With the redhead gone, Hermione clung to him with more persistence than ever. He didn't exactly mind her presence, since she made no further attempts to question him on his previous disappearances, or convince him that Malfoy was irredeemable no matter what Dumbledore said, as Ron had tried more than once now. She did make it difficult to go visit Vanima, though – and it was only Vanima he was visiting, he told himself weakly, despite the fact that he and the werewolf actually managed civil conversations these days.

It also made it considerably harder to escape the common room by the time dusk came, in the next couple of days, and Harry could practically see the suspicions flying through her head that hinted at any number of wild possibilities for why he was staying out all night, three nights in a row. With Ron, those suspicions invariably settled on a girlfriend as the answer, but Hermione was a different case entirely. And now with the distraction of the redhead gone, she'd be harder to fool and much more likely to notice the specific three nights on which he stayed out each month.

He supposed she'd eventually assume he was the werewolf. Was that better than realising he was spending his nights with Malfoy? Maybe, he thought, imagining the way the Slytherin would react if he thought his secret was out…

Besides, he could take Hermione thinking he was a werewolf, if that wasthe conclusion she'd come to. She wouldn't say anything, even if it was true.

xxx

"Where are you going?"

The falsely casual question stopped him in his tracks just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, bag in hand. He turned slowly to regard the witch who'd followed him.

"I thought you were doing your Transfiguration homework," he commented.

Hermione folded her arms, unimpressed. "I was. That isn't an excuse for you to disappear to God only knows where all night – again!"

He sighed. Well, it wasn't like he'd expected her patience with him to be everlasting, she just could have picked a better time. He was going to miss the moonrise if she kept him too long, and Malfoy would only bitch about being made to wait.

Resisting the urge to check his watch, he lowered his bag to the floor and rolled a shoulder. He thought he'd pulled a muscle sometime last night, and it twinged every now and then. "Look, would you mind if we talked about this an–"

"Do not say 'another time'! You always say that and never mean it!"

He glared. "Hermione, this isn't a good –"

She stepped closer to him and spoke fervently. "It's never a good time lately! I don't think you've talked to me or Ron properly in months! Don't you trust us anymore?"

He opened his mouth several times, trying to decide whether to respond with irritation or reassurance. "Of course I do," he snapped eventually, a combination of the two. "Why would you think I don't?"

She almost stamped her foot. "Because! Harry, we've always shared everything and it just feels like… like you're cutting us out all of a sudden. And I don't understand why. I know you said it wasn't Sirius, but I don't see anything else it –"

"It is not Sirius!" Genuine anger entered his voice, then. "Yes, alright, I miss him, and I admit it was much worse at the start of the year. But I'm fine now, honestly. I am."

"Then why –?"

"Maybe – just maybe – the wizarding world isn't in need of my immediate help this year, and my life isn't on the line for once, and I like that I can have privacy, Hermione! No tournaments, no reporters, no visions or plots for Voldemort to attack! I like that I can disappear without a dozen Aurors following me for my own safety!" He cut himself off with a short, sharp sigh. "Do you get that…?"

She closed her mouth and nodded wordlessly. He could see a muscle twitching in her jaw.

Harry turned and walked away.

xxx

Hermione watched him go, frustrated and sad. She could feel him pushing her and Ron away, but had no idea what they'd done wrong, if anything. He was pushing everyone away. Even the DA, which last year had been something akin to a social group, had taken a much more serious tone. Harry had brought in Malfoy because he could admit he needed the help and the technique so different to his own. It showed he was willing to neglect comfort in favour of necessity. And though his idea had impressed Hermione at first, to some extent, now she wondered if it was just one more way for him to put distance between himself and those who cared.

Sighing, she made to turn back for the common room, when something caught her eye. Looking down, she saw Harry's bag lying where he'd left it minutes ago. It was too late to call him back, she thought, glancing at the empty hallway.

Crouching, she grasped one of the tattered straps and hauled it up. He had only himself to blame for his carelessness – and his temper – she told herself, shaking her head.

The bag in her hand was half-open, she realised too late, and could only watch as something slid to the floor.

She stared in surprise at the Invisibility Cloak.

This was the moment she needed Ron. He would have been the first to suggest the thing going through her head right now, letting her fulfil her own role as their collective conscience, suggesting everything that was wrong with the idea, how immoral it was, even though they'd end up doing it anyway.

But Ron wasn't here, and his absence gave her a choice. Stay firmly put in her chosen role, calmly return the Cloak to Harry's bag, which she would then leave in the common room for him to find when he got back, and go to bed.

Or, take the Cloak and find out what was going on once and for all.

She chose.

xxx

Harry wasn't hard to find, even with his minute head start. In fact, she very nearly walked straight into him upon nearing the main foyer. Falling back, she watched with some confusion as the other Gryffindor waited around with his back to a pillar, checking his watch. He didn't seem to have noticed the loss of his bag, which was unusual. Was he that distracted?

She heard the second set of footsteps then. Not coming from behind her, from where a student of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would approach. No, the sound came from the other staircase, the one leading downwards, towards the dungeons.

Harry turned then, just as Draco Malfoy entered her line of sight.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?" Harry said quietly, and to Hermione's surprise, it was no short-tempered snap or distasteful mutter.

Even more shocking was that Malfoy answered somewhat cordially, saying, "Not my fault. Pansy decided to chat."

She watched in astonishment as the blond joined Harry and they turned toward the doors, walking casually side by side as if they hadn't always hated each other, to the best of her knowledge. Hesitantly, she followed at a distance, though close enough to hear the conversation that passed between them.

"She still think you're a… y'know?"

Malfoy snorted. "If you mean, does she think I'm a Death Eater following in Daddy's footsteps, then I'd assume so. Neither she nor Blaise would ever ask me outright. You might have realised we don't have the same glowing relationship as your very own Dream Team…"

"Don't be so sure," Harry replied tonelessly, and Hermione fought not to cover her mouth in horror that he could ever say something like that – and to Malfoy, of all people!

"Oh?" The Slytherin suddenly sounded interested and pathetically gleeful. "I had noticed you weren't as… inseparable as usual."

"Hn."

They exited the school, and Hermione hurried to catch up, anxious not only to hear the rest of their conversation, but to find out what in hell they were doing together. It was starting to get dark across the grounds, and she found herself squinting to see them.

"So come on, Potter, what's the latest drama?"

There was a long pause, before Harry turned his head to look at the Slytherin. "You, actually. Hermione says Ron's jealous that I asked you to come to DA meetings."

A malicious chuckle escaped the blond. "Weasley has every reason in the world to be jealous of me, and he picks this?"

"Don't start."

"It's true. Look at me, I'm –" Without warning, Malfoy grunted and dropped.

As if he'd been waiting for it, Harry caught him easily around the waist, struggling to hold the other boy upright for a moment, before helping to lower him to his knees. Hermione watched in utter confusion.

"I forgot the Cloak!" Harry hissed suddenly, as Malfoy clutched his stomach in pain.

"Well for God's sake, Potter, do something! A silencing spell, at least, before someone sees!" He spoke through gritted teeth, voice harsh and a long way from the self-confident drawl that normally emerged.

Even as the stunned witch looked on, all sound abruptly ceased as Harry slashed his wand through the air. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do, he reached out and clasped the Slytherin's wrist bracingly. Malfoy raised his head and looked at him, wide eyed beneath his silver fringe.

Having secretly read more than enough romance novels in her time, Hermione knew a Moment when she saw one. Her jaw dropped.

Then Malfoy screamed. She knew he did, though she couldn't hear it. Harry never looked away, and didn't let go until he was forced to, when the Slytherin began to change. Hermione bit her knuckle and told herself to stay quiet.

And somehow, she managed. Even when she saw the grey eyes flare brilliant ice-white, even when features and limbs began to lengthen and shift, which she knew must be excruciating, and even when he pitched forward to land on all fours, and silver hair spread in a great ripple across every inch of skin. Even then, she stayed silent.

Hermione was trembling by the time the moon had become visible in the sky and the transformation was complete. The creature that remained shakily gathered itself and rose to a standing position, taller than Harry on his knees. It was sleek and long-legged, pale fur practically glowing in the moonlight. From where she stood, it wasn't hard to see the barely concealed expression of admiration on her friend's face, but found she couldn't really blame him.

Draco Malfoy made one gorgeous werewolf.

Her shock at the multiple implications of that thought was pushed aside, however, as she found herself witnessing yet another transformation. She knew immediately that this was of a different sort, though.

Seemingly satisfied that Malfoy was okay, Harry closed his eyes calmly. A line of concentration appeared between his brows, and before she knew it, something else stood in his place. There were no physical processes to see this time – no reforming of bones and muscle. Rather, her eyes seemed to unfocus of their own accord, leaving her unable to look directly at him, while magic blurred his image. She'd always wondered why books were so evasive about giving an exact description of an Animagi transformation, but now she knew: it was an impossible task, to put something like this into words.

The black dog he became made just as impressive a figure as the wolf.

Neither showed curiosity at these two new forms, and she knew then with certainty that this was not the first time they had been out together like this. Malfoy was the first to turn and head for the forest, twitching an ear slightly with the faint bark that came from that direction. Remus! she realised suddenly. He knew about this! He… he…

Oh God. Staring after the Slytherin as he disappeared into the darkness, it occurred to her to wonder who had turned him in the first place. The only other werewolf she knew was Remus – and instantly that thought brought with it memories of lessons they'd shared this year, when even she could feel the hate that rolled off Malfoy in waves, directed solely at the older man.

Hermione had no idea what could have changed his attitude between then and now, but she had to wonder if it had something to do with Harry, and his abrupt acceptance of the Slytherin.

Thoughts spinning, she turned and walked dazedly back to the castle.