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 25: Having Doubts

xxx

Something was very, very wrong and Draco knew it. However, there was no putting his finger on it. The feeling came simply from incidents over the past few days that stuck out wrongly in his mind, whether they be unusual, irritating or nothing more than a bit embarrassing.

He sat at his desk as he thought these things, absently running his fingers along the dark curves of Vanima's body, which was coiled near his right hand atop the homework he was supposed to be finishing off. She stirred and looked at him with blank eyes, hissing lightly and causing him to wonder what she was saying. He wished Potter were here, so he could–

Ah! There! Right there! Draco scowled in perplexity and drew his hand sharply away from the snake. Since when had he ever deigned to utter that sentence under any circumstances? No. He did not wish Potter was here. He never wished that, and it was surely a sacrifice when the prat was. He'd certainly never initiate such a casual, civil conversation by asking what his bloody pet was saying!

Yet another of the fundamentally wrong occurrences that Draco was beginning to pick up on, and wondering why he hadn't noticed before now.

Why in the world had he even offered to home the creature? He couldn't imagine something so out of character for himself if he tried. He didn't like Potter, or his ridiculous sentimentality over a conjured snake. Besides, he'd sounded prepared to release her into the forest, if push came to shove. It hadn't been his responsibility to take her – so why had he offered?

And the other night! What the fuck had that been? Draco still couldn't quite accept the memory that, upon Potter's suggestion he return to sleep in their entangled position, he had obeyed. No! And why had the cursed presence in the back of his head agreed so strongly? That was wrong and Draco knew it.

It didn't end with those two examples, either. They were just the ones that stood out mainly in his mind. But, thinking about it, there had been more than one occasion when he'd found himself consenting to some minor suggestion made by the Gryffindor, even though, last year, he would have refused simply out of spite.

It wasn't friendship. He knew it wasn't, despite the idea not horrifying him as much as it might once have done. He wasn't this complacent even with Pansy and Blaise.

Potter wouldn't cast an Imperio, he knew. The Wizarding Saviour was too noble for that. Besides, there were other symptom he was sure didn't come from the Unforgivable.

He was becoming… distracted. No, that wasn't the right word. He was becoming… becoming…

Obsessed. Addicted, even.

At first, he hadn't noticed. And then he'd simply refused to acknowledge anything of the sort. But now. Now it was impossible to ignore. If they were in the same room together, he found himself constantly aware of the other's movements. He could be having a perfectly normal conversation with Blaise, and yet some part of his brain was dedicated to knowing that Potter had just entered the Great Hall, and was now walking to his seat at the Gryffindor table, and now buttering toast while talking to Granger. These stupid, irrelevant little facts were driving Draco insane. There had once been a time – oh, how he missed that time – when he'd have been ecstatic to forget the git's whole bloody existence. Now, though, it gave him twinges whenever the Gryffindor left a room without acknowledging him.

When they were alone it was worse, though only ever in retrospect. Wolf senses would flood Draco at those times and he would be overcome by the simple scent of the other boy. There was never anything unnatural about it – no cologne or hair gel or some such product. Always, it was clean and earthy and so purely Harry. He was addicted to it, and overwhelmed by it, and sweet Merlin had there ever been anything so wrong?

He let out a distressed little huff of breath and buried his face in his hands. Frustration rose inside him and he wondered, detachedly, if he was going to cry.

No, for fuck's sake. He wasn't that weak. Yet.

These thoughts had been plaguing him since the full moon weekend, and it was now Tuesday. Eventually, he'd settled on a somewhat suitable explanation, even though the mere thought made him sick with anger. This, he was sure, had to be the result of the Headmaster's spell. Though the man had worded it to sound reasonable at the time, there must have been a loophole that had Draco acting like Potter's bloody slave. This wasn't just helping when he was called upon. This was… submission. Unwilling submission, at that.

He felt suddenly impotent. And though that thought made his cheeks burn with shame, it was the only description that came to mind. He wouldn't go to Dumbledore, and make a fool of himself shouting and screaming in protest, when there was no way to retract his oath of loyalty and servitude anyway. He couldn't go to Severus. He just… couldn't. Severus, of all things, despised weakness. To admit to this…

No, his godfather was no source of help right now. Not in this.

What about Lupin? Surprising himself, Draco actually leaned toward that idea. The man would be against the idea of such compulsion, and he was Gryffindor enough and guilty enough to help. And, if nothing else, Lupin understood weakness…

But no. Didn't the werewolf already hold power over him? Slytherin down to the core, it wasn't in Draco to willingly hand over more.

Not yet, anyway. Not until he grew desperate.

xxx

"Legilimens!"

Severus heard the other man gasp before the physical world dissolved and another individual's mental world closed around him. He was growing used to Lupin's mind, he shuddered to admit. Once again, the ridiculous defence the man had created after their first session sprung into place, protecting, at the very least, the panicky thoughts he'd given away last time.

Lupin thought of colours. Blue, mostly. Exasperated, Severus fought to extract himself from the pool of colour that, surprisingly, managed to conceal those surface thoughts that the Legilimens had previously found so entertaining. He supposed he could root them out, if he really wanted to, but the effort would only leave both of them with a headache.

Disgruntled, he dived deeper, following the now familiar paths into darker parts of the other man's mind. As ever, the presence of the wolf was never far away. He fancied he could hear it growl hatefully at him from not too far away, snapping its jaws from the surrounding shadows as he fled past.

He told himself he was being irrational. In this world, senses as he knew them didn't apply. There was no sight or sound or smell, merely perception. He was thinking of the wolf as a physical thing, therefore it was acting like one.

Still, it was easy enough to distract himself. Lupin believed that he'd stopped hunting out memories and thoughts during these sessions. The truth was Severus was just more subtle now.

The first time he'd torn through the wolf's mind had been a mistake. On some level, he could admit that now. Really, his actions had been crass and unrefined. In fact, rather like something a Gryffindor would do, rampaging through a delicate situation in their anger.

Since, Severus had happily returned to his Slytherin mindset, regretting the brief lapse.

Now, as he flitted through Lupin's mind, he delicately picked at the entwined golden strands of connected thoughts, his touch so light they didn't shiver and alert the other man. Alien knowledge and recollection filled him and was filed away, to be scrutinised later. He didn't dare pause to watch them yet, lest the werewolf realise what he was doing and they once again descend into arguing or – something that was growing steadily more frequent – physical fighting.

He wasn't sure why he was so set on the invasion of privacy. Perhaps it was the ingrained second nature to spy on someone, no matter who that person may be. And this entire situation gave him such a perfect opportunity. Maybe it was just that this was Lupin, and, if he was honest with himself, he'd always harboured a loathing fascination for the man, hadn't he?

So on he went, heading for the fortress of Occlumency he was building at the centre of this mind. As he drew closer, he tried to call to mind the name 'Lupin', as he always did, but couldn't. Here, where intimacy was impossible to avoid, it could only be Remus.

The golden threads were a lot like a spider's web, Severus had always thought. He'd chosen the very centre, where the threads spiralled outwards in all possible directions, to base his defences, spinning these in the concentric circles that connected and protected the original thoughts.

Returning to his work as if he'd never left off, he plucked magic from nowhere, or sometimes from his own mind, before making it part of the web. He added more and more false memories wherever he could, sewing in resentment and bitterness into the natural embroidery of emotions. Nothing, of course, was overdone. That would be the biggest trap to avoid. He had to be subtle, exaggerating what was already present, no matter how infinitesimal. A dark undercurrent would be much more convincing than outright, consuming hatred of Potter.

As he worked, he began to examine Remus's stolen memories, which had already become part of his own mind and would set no alarm bells off in the werewolf's head.

It was like watching pensieve memories. Stories played out in third person in his head, himself never quite a part of them, but instead a rapt audience member.

He skimmed quickly over the less interesting ones, seeing the werewolf eating breakfast on his own, marking papers, watching a rainstorm over the lake, teaching at the edges of the forest, talking to Draco the very first night the Slytherin had come to him–

Well, that was interesting. Never faltering in his Occlumency, he started to examine that memory a little closer. In astonishment, he watched his godson scream and rage against the curse that bound him, shrieking in undignified anguish. I can't, I can't do anything! It's taking over! Every five minutes I want to kill something!

Had Draco really said that? Slow, cold alarm filled him – and something else, some creeping realisation that he didn't yet want to acknowledge.

The memory played on, relentless. It's stronger than me! came Draco's panicked whisper, as Remus tried frantically to comfort him. And then the boy was crying, so vulnerable in that moment that it was all Severus could do not to freeze in his work, so great was his shock at this scene.

He recalled his own accusations unwillingly, made during the argument between himself and his godson a couple of weeks ago. What happened to fightingthis?

And Draco's helpless reply. I triedfighting it, and ignoring it – it didn't work! You didn't even see what it was doing to me!

He hadn't cared to see, had he? Caught up in his own drama of being discovered and hunted, and never really eager to confront reality when it came to the boy's condition, it had been convenientto ignore what was going on around him. Besides… ignoring it meant never having to acknowledge that Lupin – Remus – had actually helped Draco, and in a way that he, Severus, wasn't capable of.

He faltered then in weaving strands of thought and Occlumency together, but quickly recovered while his mind raced.

Yes, true, the bastard had still caused the entire problem in the first place, but at least he hadn't turned away afterwards. The Potions Master had known men – lesser men, he supposed he had to admit – who would have run for the hills rather than face consequences like Draco.

He wasn't yet ready to revise his opinion of the man – not nearly ready for that – but…

He pulled out the other memories he'd stolen with new interest, targeting the ones that showed a teenage Remus Lupin during his own years at Hogwarts. He knew that the man must have changed somewhere along the way. Even if he'd somehow gained strength to take responsibility for his actions now, he hadn't possessed that strength back then, Severus was sure. Lu– Remus had been a snivelling little coward, back then.

He watched as the younger werewolf went about his average school day, quietly writing or reading while his three friends crashed loudly through the background of his life. Yes, that fitted with Severus's memories of the time. He could just picture the boy sat under a tree with a book, barely existing. Remus had always been outside as much as possible, he recalled, as if clinging to the sunlight.

Lily Evans appeared sometimes in his mind's eye as he sifted through the memories, but he sped past those images like a muggle video fast forwarded. He felt the urge to do the same whenever James Potter appeared, but he was interested in seeing the group dynamics that had surrounded the werewolf at the time, and how he'd reacted.

This in mind, he began to listen to the random snippets of conversation he'd picked up on his journey along Remus's web of thoughts.

"Hey, what answer have you got for number two?" Potter asked, leaning across a desk to peer at the werewolf's sheet of paper.

"None of your business," came the quick retort as the parchment was snatched up.

"Don't be so stingy, Moony. You're going to be as bad as Snivellus one of these days." Arrogant as ever, James Potter jerked his chin toward the front of the Potions classroom they occupied, and Severus saw his own adolescent self hunched protectively over their current assignment, alone and scribbling hurriedly.

A scowl crossed Remus's face, darkening amber eyes to brown. "You said you wouldn't call him that –"

"I did not. Not the point, anyway. C'mon, gimme your paper." He made a demanding snatch for the work, but the smaller Gryffindor whipped it behind his back, out of reach, looking annoyed.

Another interesting insight, Severus decided. He hadn't known the Marauders were anything other than a well-oiled, perfectly functioning unit, much like the current Golden Trio.

Perhaps he was reading too much into the brief interaction, anyway.

"Remus," Potter went on, his voice signalling his change in attitude, from light-hearted to irritated. "Don't start this again. You're always in a mood lately –"

"I am not!" With the indignant outburst, another of their little group – the traitor, Pettigrew – looked worriedly toward them. Black was conspicuously missing, and with Pettigrew too cowardly to dare interrupt an argument, it seemed Potter and Remus's tempers were about to get the best of them. "I'd just rather not see you become a… a bully, James –"

"Oh, this is not about Snivellus, again!"

"I –"

Another figure entered the scope of the memory in the form of Black. He sauntered up behind the bickering pair, probably having only just arrived late for class, and immediately took stock of the situation.

He let a hand fall casually on the werewolf's shoulder. "Oy, Moony, calm down will ya?"

Remus blinked up at him, seemingly shocked into obeying by his sudden arrival.

"Now," Black went on, casually taking his seat in between the other two, "let's have a look at those questions, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, he deftly took away the sheet of paper and laid it down between himself and James, and they began to copy out the answers.

Possibly because he was only an audience member, suitably distanced from the entire affair, only he saw the werewolf open his mouth in protest, before closing it without ever saying a word, and retreating into unhappy confusion.

Severus pulled back from the scene being played for him, troubled. It wasn't anything new to learn Remus was the quiet type, easy for his friends to take advantage of, but it had seemed, moments ago, as if he might actually put up a fight. What had just changed to make him so submissive again?

He didn't have time to dwell on the question, however. Now that he wasn't focused on the contents of the memory, he became aware of the dull, strained ache that was spreading along the golden threads, a result of too long an exposure to Legilimency.

Sighing, he released his hold on the Occlumency strands and headed for the surface.

xxx

Remus winced as he felt Severus's presence leave his mind and the full weight of a headache crashed down. He rocked back, resting against the chair legs at his back and covering his eyes, waiting for the scorching barrage of comments that would come any moment now.

"That took longer than usual," he said half-heartedly, when the silence lasted too long, opening one eye to peek at the Potions Master. There was going to be an argument, he was sure. There was always an argument, no matter how he tried to avoid them.

Severus had yet to move. He sat composedly, with his hands resting on his knees directly opposite Remus. Dark eyes were closed, and a frown formed between his brows.

"Severus…?"

As if only just reminded of another presence, the man looked startled into waking. "Re– Lupin. You… you may go. Return Thursday, and we'll continue."

Both adults climbed to their feet, Remus with a little less grace. He stared in perplexity at the other man. "That's it?" he couldn't help but ask, sounding, even to his own ears, faintly incredulous. Surely there was something new to torment him about?

"Yes, that's it," came the short tempered growl. "Go away."

It said something, the werewolf thought to himself as he closed the door behind him, that this had been the most gracious dismissal he'd received yet.

xxx

Harry jogged easily down the steps that led to the Gryffindor common room from the dormitories, spotting Hermione and moving to join her. He threw himself down into one of the squishy chintzes nearby.

"Are we having a DA meeting this week?" he asked. It occurred to him that perhaps, as figurehead, he should really have more of a say in when meetings were scheduled, but it was so much easier to leave that to her.

She looked up at him slowly, wearing that same odd expression she'd taken on ever since their argument outside the portrait. "If you like," she answered carefully. "There're only a few people gone home for the holidays. Are you and… and Malfoy up to it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why wouldn't we be…?"

"You seemed tired yesterday. And the day before."

"Couldn't sleep," he lied quickly, and so easily that Hermione couldn't help feeling the immediate urge to scold him. What else hadn't Harry told them? If he could lie so convincingly about something this… this big, there was no guessing what else he could hide…

But she couldn't exactly jump straight into that argument, could she? Not when Harry didn't even know that one secret was out, let alone however many more he kept.

She hadn't had the nerve to confront him. Not yet, anyway. What could she possibly have said? I'm sorry, after you demanded privacy the other night, I felt the need to follow you and spy?

Still, she'd have to breach the subject soon. She'd spent the days since her discovery trying to get her head around the situation, and work out some kind of reasoning for why Harry would share such a secret with Malfoy, of all people. Apparently they really were friends now, or something close to it, whether they admitted to it or not – because night-time escapades and a secret of such massive proportions was not something one shared with a bitter enemy – but Hermione was damned if she could find a satisfactory reason for why they were friends. Malfoy might well have joined the side of the Light, but that didn't change his entire personality – which was surely the only reason Harry could bare to talk to him.

Again it was on her lips to demand he tell her what in the world was going on, but she stayed quiet, painfully swallowing the question.

He was looking at her expectantly. "Hermione? The meetings?"

She nodded, lowering her eyes to the book in her lap so as not to look at him. "I'll schedule it for tomorrow, if that works."

He grinned, and something hurt inside her. When was the last time he'd looked like that? Was it Malfoy's doing, that he could suddenly smile again? But that wasn't fair! She and Ron had been there for months on end. What was so special about that absolute bastard that made him able to help where they had failed?

"Thanks Hermione," Harry positively chirped.