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 26: New Perspectives

xxx

Draco had intended to cancel on the DA meeting when he'd first noticed the Galleon glowing on the mantelpiece. But then Potter had shown up in person, and given him that look – confused, imploring disappointment – and he'd felt himself caving, compelled to obey in that same distressing way that he was starting to recognise now.

And so, once again, he found himself standing sullenly before an unimpressed audience as Potter prattled on about some spell or another. Draco had decided he had no idea why he was even needed here, other than being something for Potter to show off and parade about. He could just imagine the Gryffindor knowing full well what he did to him and using it to his own advantage. Honestly, he was surprised there was room in here for everyone else, with that idiot's ego taking up so much space…

But he found himself sighing, and shaking his head. No matter how frustrated he grew, sheer common sense told him that it was too out of character for Potter to take advantage of anyone like that.

Still, it stung. Was there no one who didn't have some kind of power over him right now?

"Draco?"

He snapped to attention, realising with vague embarrassment that the Gryffindor had been trying in vain to gain his attention for some unknown period of time, and now stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"What?" he snapped, ignoring his lapse.

Potter blinked, but didn't comment on his hostile response. He stepped closer for privacy, and Draco realised the rest of the DA had already been set whatever assignment the Gryffindor had dreamt up.

"Is something wrong?"

The Slytherin sneered. "Oh, I'm sorry, aren't I showing my sparkling enthusiasm to be here? Or is it that, surprisingly, I'm not fawning over your every bloody word for once?"

Green eyes cooled rapidly. "Well, actually, it's that you're being a complete prat. More so than usual!"

"Oh, fuck off. What the hell am I supposed to be doing so we can get this over with?"

"Did I do something?" Potter demanded. Though he sounded as pissed off as Draco had ever heard him, he kept his voice lowered to a hiss, trying not to allow their temporarily distracted audience to overhear.

Opening his mouth with half a dozen snide replies to that question on his tongue, the Slytherin forced himself to stop and close his eyes. In his head, he counted silently to ten, making an effort he rarely bothered with to control his temper.

When he'd reached something resembling calm, he forced himself to meet the confused green gaze steadily. "After this is done, I need to talk to you." The words wanted to choke him, wanted to falter and trail off into nothing, but he didn't let them.

The Gryffindor's anger retreated, and he frowned in perplexity – no, he frowned with worry, Draco realised, exasperated. He didn't want worry or pity, which would doubtlessly only increase once Potter heard what he actually had to say.

But that could wait.

"Am I here for a reason, or do you just want someone to talk to?" he drawled, signalling the end of this testy conversation. At least for the moment.

Harry sighed, obviously unsure. But he shook his head and seemed to relent, gesturing vaguely toward the other occupants of the room. "Do what you always do. Scare the fuck out of them…"

xxx

Hermione looked around her, and found Luna standing nearby. She smiled and walked toward her, seeing a suitable partner in Ron's absence. But before she could say anything, someone else stepped into her path.

She didn't much talk to Cho as a friend, and was slightly surprised when the older girl stepped closer and asked in her pleasant northern accent, "Can I talk to you?" Before anything else could be said, the Ravenclaw Seeker turned with a flick of her long dark hair, beckoning urgently over her shoulder.

Hermione followed the other hesitantly to the edges of the room, out of earshot of the others. Cho turned to her, and her dark eyes were wide with worry.

"What's wrong?" the Gryffindor asked in concern, frowning.

"I-I wasn't sure… Well, I didn't think anyone would believe me, you see…" Cho started out, turning her head to the side, avoiding Hermione's gaze. "But now with him here all the time, and Harry trusting him…"

"Believe what?" Hermione couldn't quite manage to keep the impatience from her voice, but the Ravenclaw girl didn't seem to notice.

"It was at the Quiddich match. When I missed the Snitch. It was because I saw something, and I think… I think…"

The Gryffindor froze with realisation, too late to stop Cho voicing what she said next.

"I think there's something wrong with Malfoy." She turned and cast a furtive glance at the Slytherin in question, who was currently glaring narrow-eyed at Harry's back. "As in… dangerous magic," Cho went on, oblivious to the other girl's panicked expression. "When he got angry with me at the game, he looked… horrible. His eyes…!"

Hermione reached out and grasped her wrist, tighter than she'd intended to. "Have you told anyone else besides me?"

Cho shook her head, trying and failing to disengage herself. "N-no. Like I said, I didn't think anyone would believe me. But I couldn't stand back and do nothing, not when he could hurt Harry. So I came to you. You… you know I'm telling the truth, right?"

The Gryffindor forced herself to nod. "Okay. I'll… I'll talk to Harry. Listen, please don't say anything to anyone else. If Malfoy got word that we know something…"

Cho bobbed her head rapidly, looking relieved that the responsibility was safely on someone else's shoulders.

Hermione felt the bubble of dread that had been inflating inside her finally pop as she realised, inevitably, that she was going to have to confront both Harry and Malfoy over what she'd seen the night of the full moon, so much sooner than she'd ever intended.

xxx

As the lesson ended and the room emptied, Hermione braced herself. Harry and Malfoy had once again lingered behind to discuss whatever it was they discussed these days, and hadn't yet noticed her presence. Their argument seemed to have come to and end, though neither exactly looked pleased. Draco was speaking lowly, his grey eyes hard, when he finally caught her movement in his peripheral vision.

"What do you want, Granger?" came his short-tempered snap when he saw her. "Can't face the long hard walk back to Gryffindor tower alone?"

Perhaps because he rarely paid attention to the witch other than to bicker with her, Draco failed to note the distress she exuded. Harry saw it, however. Almost instantly, with an uncanny sense of intuition, he saw her guilt and her nerves and the tell-tale glance she threw at the Slytherin. His stomach went cold. "What did you do?"

And that was all it took to break what little composure she had left. "Harry, I'm sorry! I didn't think… Well, I didn't know what to think! And when you just walked away from me like that…"

Harry found himself stepping in front of the rather confused blond, not bothering to hide his steadily growing anxiety that would, any moment now he knew, turn to anger.

She went on, voice growing faster in distress. "And you'd just left your cloak there. I know you, I know you would have done the same thing, even though that's no excuse. So I… I followed you…"

"Oh God…" That was Draco, his voice faint and dreading as he slowly closed his eyes and swayed back to lean against the wall.

Harry just stared.

"I'm sorry!" she said again, heartfelt. "I saw – well, I guess you know what I saw – but I haven't said a word. But now… There's something else…"

"What more could there possibly be?" Harry demanded, incredulous. How could she have done that? he wanted to yell, but the words didn't seem enough.

Hermione shook her head helplessly. "Cho knows there's something wrong."

It occurred to Harry to ask how she could know anything, when no one who did know really talked to her. But of course. Dumbledore had warned them, hadn't he? All the secrecy in the world wouldn't protect Draco if he wasn't careful. "The match…"

The witch nodded, and they both looked toward the Slytherin to watch his reaction.

For long, long moments, Draco stared unfeelingly at her as she nervously chewed her lip. How could she know? How could Chang…?

How could he have been so stupid?

This was… quite literally… too big to contemplate. He knew, knew, that soon enough the implications of what Granger was telling him would hit him between the eyes, and, in all likelihood, knock him flat. Soon enough, the consequences of his own carelessness would come to haunt him.

But right now it seemed impossible to grasp. No, his mind said simply. There wasn't – there couldn't be – another two people he distrusted in possession of his secret, his reputation, his life. It wasn't possible. Bad enough Dumbledore, Lupin, Potter – even Severus, to some extent – but no, not Granger. Not the fucking Mudblood.

Not Potter's ex, either! No, that was too bitter, too stinging to think about.

The solidity of the wall at his back offered some minor comfort as he felt his thoughts turn chaotic, and he found himself sinking down it numbly, until he sat, dazed and detached, one hand tangled in his hair and hiding his eyes, the other pressed flat against the cold tiled floor, seeking its steadiness.

"Draco…" In a second, Harry was kneeling next to him, not really knowing what he was doing except acting on instinct. The blond twitched violently when he touched his shoulder, and refused to raise his head. "Come on, we'll… we'll fix it or something, just get up –"

"Don't you dare say another word, Potter!" His voice sounded terrible, even to his own ears. Hoarse and shrill and broken. Still, he didn't look up, even seeming to retreat further into his protective little huddle. "Shut up, shut up! If you tell me to do one more thing…!"

"I'm not –"

"Fuck you!" And then he was lashing out. Some tiny, quiet little voice told him that this was Harry, this was the person who ran with him under full moons, who, moments ago, had called him by his first name as if it were the only natural thing to do. This was Harry, on his knees with him and wanting to help.

But none of that mattered as he shoved out viciously, growling. Furious. The Gryffindor, caught off guard, tumbled backwards to land on his ass. Green eyes blinked in astonishment, and Granger let out a little startled cry, pathetically covering her mouth with her hand.

Draco felt the wolf rise in him and allowed it, baring his fangs in anger. "Do you even know what you're doing, Potter? I swear to Merlin, if you do…" He shook his head in wordless warning.

"What –?"

"Every time you tell me to do something, I have to fucking do it!" His breath came hard with the admission, and he averted his eyes, staring fixedly at his own pale hands which gripped the material of his trousers.

The other boy seemed to freeze slowly, his outrage cooling. "What are you talking about…?"

Draco sneered, but it was a front, without true malice, and they all knew it. "Dumbledore's spell," he spat out eventually, full of bitterness. "It's like a fucking Imperius or something. So just… shut up."

Potter's thought process showed so clearly on his face that the Slytherin would have scorned him any other time. He watched his confusion form like a cloud, drifting into denial; then, as the changes grew swifter, creeping anger, moral outrage, his trademark righteousness, and, finally, such an odd weariness that Draco blinked, taken aback.

He wondered if the Gryffindor thought he was lying, or if he was simply tired of being dragged into the orbit of problems that seemed to centre around Draco.

Hermione shook her head, drawing attention to herself with the jerky movement. "Dumbledore… No, surely… I mean, he wouldn't –"

"He did, Granger." Draco had tried to insert a biting edge to his tone, but it came out just as tired and defeated as the brief expression shown on Potter's face. "See, I can't seem to recall any other vows I've taken lately that might cause me to become Potter's bloody slave."

Both Gryffindors stiffened at his phrasing, and Harry's flash of resignation retreated, to be replaced by such a feverish gleam in the green eyes that the blond drew back, once again pressing himself as tightly as possible against the expanse of wall behind him. It felt solid and safe.

"Dra– Mal–" Harry cut himself off, obviously unsure over whatever their respective footing now was. "Why didn't you tell me this?" he snapped eventually.

"I… I didn't realise until a few days ago."

"And you're sure?"

Grey eyes flashed. "Yes," he ground out. "There have been certain things I wouldn't have done, nor wanted to do, under normal circumstances, yet because you told me to…"

It seemed the Gryffindor knew immediately to what he referred, judging by the abrupt colour that flooded his cheeks. But along with the embarrassment came a look of guilt that the Slytherin hadn't expected. "Oh my God, Draco, I thought… I would never have… If –"

"Yes alright," the blond cut across him, casting a pointed look in Hermione's direction, whose presence seemed to have been forgotten by her fellow Gryffindor. "Forget it, Potter. Really." He sighed, resisting the urge to run fingers through his hair again, a nervous habit he'd never quite managed to rid himself of. "One ridiculous crisis at a time..."

Drawing himself up – as much as he could while sitting on the floor, with the grey taint of fear and worry beginning to colour his edges – he lifted his chin with as much Malfoy pride as he could gather, looking directly at Granger. "Well? What will it take for you to stay quiet about –" he made some vague, encompassing gesture "– all of this?"

For a while, she was silent, staring at him incredulously. His stomach sank as he waited for the inevitable rant about how it was just too unethical to let an unregistered werewolf roam the castle, and how she was honour-bound to report him. Hah, let her go to Dumbledore, and discover the mess she'd find herself in then, him already knowing the truth and all…

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," she scolded with exasperation and a roll of the eyes, regaining some of her usual temper with him.

He frowned, not comprehending for a few moments.

"I've known for days, haven't I?" she went on. "And I already told you I haven't said anything."

"Yes, but –"

"And she won't," Harry broke in. He hadn't forgotten his anger with her, but she was still trustworthy. They would argue later, but now clearly wasn't the time.

Draco didn't protest as the Gryffindor shifted himself so that they sat side by side, both leaning back against the wall and staring unseeingly ahead. It became even stranger when Granger moved to take her place beside Harry, and the three of them seemed almost allies – which, of course, was too absurd to even contemplate – but the Slytherin found himself too spent to protest anything, and merely sat complacently, filled with the novelty of letting these two former-enemies go about systemising his current state of chaos.

Harry was nodding slowly to himself. "Right. So. I suppose I'll have to get used to asking questions, instead of saying anything remotely… command-like. Uhm, is that okay?"

Draco sighed softly and closed his eyes. "I hope so," he answered truthfully.

"That just leaves Cho," Granger murmured

Next to him, the Slytherin could almost feel Harry's aura go cold. "No," the other boy responded, barely audible. "No, not quite."

xxx

It didn't at all aid Harry's sense of fury when he was forced to stand outside the gargoyle entrance listing every sweet name under the sun for at least twenty minutes before he finally guessed the correct password, and was allowed to proceed in storming up the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. With each step, his mood darkened.

It was now sheer frustration trying to convince the Slytherin to do anything, even the smallest, most usual task. It had taken an unnecessary amount of time and effort for he and Hermione to persuade Draco to return to his room and let them worry about Cho. The werewolf seemed determined to go against whatever Harry said, if only to prove to himself, or to them, that he could. And now that he knew of his own unwanted power over the other, the Gryffindor was determined not to use it – though employing it would have cut short the argument that had risen between them by about fifteen minutes.

Still, as convenient as Draco's obedience might be, Harry knew he wouldn't ask for it from now on. It made him feel dirty and cruel, even if he hadn't intentionally done wrong.

The Slytherin's carefully worded warning still echoed horribly in his head.

That morning – the morning they'd woken together, which Harry was growing quite used to, and had forgotten it ever seemed weird – which apparently it had to Draco – Draco, who hadn't wanted to stay, he said, but had been told to, and so of course had obeyed…

The memory was ruined for him now. Shadowed by a guilt and disgust with himself he couldn't help, where before it had been something… pleasant. Comforting, he might have said, or even treasured, if he was in a very generous mood. In his mind, the incident had been some unspoken agreement, a truce, with the possibility of a hundred different things behind it.

Apparently not.

He didn't bother to knock. Upon entering the office, Dumbledore looked up at him with some surprise, pausing in his paper work. "Harry? Is something wrong, my boy?"

"How could you do that?" The accusation broke from him as he stalked across the room, coming to stand before the Headmaster's desk and glare down at the old man. Fawks let out a chittering, anxious noise and shifted on his perch.

Dumbledore set down his quill slowly and frowned, silver brows coming together in concern. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Harry."

Green eyes flashed, reminiscent of an anger displayed in this very room at the end of fifth year. "Your spell. The one you cast on Draco to make sure he'd stay loyal."

"What about it?"

Harry shook his head in astonishment. "Sir! How…? You can't just… How could you do that to him?"

"I was under the impression that you already knew the terms of the agreement between myself and Mr Malfoy. You seemed to find them acceptable before –"

"I didn't realise it meant turning him into… into… I didn't know he'd have to do whatever I said!"

Dumbledore looked at him sharply, suddenly rigid in his chair. "The bargain I made did nothing of the sort, Harry. I simply asked that he consent to the few things I would ask of him, such as becoming part of the DA. Do you really believe I'd put one student in complete control of another?"

The Gryffindor faltered, but remembered his anger. "Then why is this happening? I didn't even realise until he told me earlier! What would have happened if he hadn't, and I'd said something stupid?"

The Headmaster rose from his seat, leaning on the desk between them. He reached out a hand and clasped the boy's shoulder with surprising strength. "I assure you, once again, that what you're describing is nothing to do with my spell. It isn't the first time I've made such an agreement, and produced no such consequences. If Mr Malfoy had only come to me, I could have told him myself –"

"He doesn't trust you," Harry answered plainly, looking quite distrustful himself. "And if it isn't you, then what's doing this?"

"I can honestly say I don't know, my boy. It sounds like a variation of the Imperius, if anything. I have to wonder if it's the result of another inventive curse of Lucius Malfoy's…"

"Draco's dad? Why would he do that?"

The Headmaster went on as if he hadn't heard, talking mostly to himself as he resumed his seat and began riffling through the desk drawers. "Perhaps a way to separate his son from you. He'd know, of course, that Draco wouldn't want to remain around an individual with such power over him… Or, even more simply, this could be Lucius's form of punishment..."

Green eyes widened incredulously. "He couldn't just dock pocket money?"

"Oh, I imagine any access to family monies has already been cut off. Lucius is a hard man, who had a life planned out for his son. That Draco is going against everything his father stands for is a slap in the face." Finally, he pulled out a crinkled letter from the bottom of the drawer, setting it on the desk. "Lucius wrote a few months ago informing Draco that he was to be Marked. That was what prompted our agreement. I've been intercepting his letters since then, and more than a few of them have contained hexes of varying severity."

The Gryffindor shook his head in disbelief. "When he said… I didn't think…"

"This is only a theory, you understand. It seems doubtful that Lucius Malfoy managed to sneak such a powerful curse past myself and the school wards, but it's still something to think about. Of course, I'll look into other possibilities, as well. Harry…" He paused, and looked up at the boy gravely. "I promised Draco Malfoy my protection, and I meant it."

Harry nodded haltingly. Yes, he could believe that.

The problem was that it left one very big, gaping question: What the hell else could be causing the compulsion?