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 30: When Silence Means Everything

xxx

After a profound and extended silence, the only thing Draco could really think to respond with was, "...Excuse me?"

Hermione lifted one shoulder in apology. "I told you that you wouldn't like it."

The blond stared at her, uncomprehending. After a while, he shook his head sharply. "Wait. No. What?"

She sighed and pointed down at the book in her lap. Next to her, perched anxiously on the very edge of the couch, the Slytherin craned his neck to peer at the writing she was indicating. "Look, it says right here. I didn't believe it either, at first, but it explains everything. Well, almost everything. I would have assumed, by now, you'd have felt some kind of attraction to –"

"What? No! No!" Abruptly, he was on his feet, pacing away from her, hand grasping his usually immaculate hair and leaving it standing up in tufts. "Granger, I asked you to find me a cure, not make this curse ten times worse!"

For the moment, she decided, she'd indulge his temper, since she had just delivered a blow. "Yes, and I found you one, even if it's not what you wanted to hear."

Expression wild, he turned on her. "Understatement, don't you think? How can you possibly believe that he's my...? That I'm his...? Merlin, I can't even say it," he added in disgust.

She shrugged, and said bluntly, watching him cringe, "Well it's true. You and Harry are mates." She thought for a moment, glancing down at the pages in her lap. "Really, I suppose it's not that surprising. You two have always... revolved around each other. It makes sense that the wolf would pick on a pre-prepared connection like that."

"And what does all this have to do with the compulsions?"

"See, that's the interesting bit. It's fascinating, really –"

"It's nothing of the sort!"

"Like a defence mechanism," she went on, as if he hadn't interrupted. "The wolf in you is protecting its own interests, if you want to think of it like that. You see, it fears that if you had your own way, you wouldn't accept its mate."

Draco stared at her in horror. "So, what? It's going to make me?"

"Not exactly." She paused, trying to think of a clear, concise explanation. "Think of it as a conflict of interests. The wolf wants Harry, you don't. It's worried that you'll push him too far away, so it's trying to ensure that Harry has the power to keep you in check. There are documented cases of similar occurrences. You're very lucky in that Harry wouldn't take advantage of you, you know. I've been reading about incidents where –"

"I'm not a case study, thank you." The Slytherin looked exhausted, leaning against the mantelpiece at the other side of the room. "Simplify it, Ganger. How do I make it stop?"

She bit her lip. Even she felt sympathy, for a second. "Well... There are two options. Either you go on the way you have, with Harry's word that he won't abuse this power. Or..."

"Or? Or what?"

The witch shrugged again. "Or you accept him as your mate, the wolf is reassured and it ends the compulsions."

He gaped at her. "What? But that's... that's like blackmail or something!"

She nodded. "It's ingenious, when you think about it. There aren't any other magical creatures with such a developed system –"

"Developed? This is... this is pure evil! This is malicious!" Distressed, Draco covered his eyes and sucked in air, desperately trying to calm himself. "I will not be forced into this! How can you just sit there and read it all out like it's nothing? You condone this?"

She snorted. "God, no. To put I very bluntly, Malfoy, I think you're yet another horrible inconvenience that Harry doesn't really need."

He stared at her, surprised into stillness. "Cold, aren't you?"

Hermione smiled. "Sometimes. In all honesty, I think Harry would be better off without having to worry about a psychotic werewolf who attacks his friends at the slightest provocation."

The Slytherin's jaw dropped. "I didn't mean –"

"Even so," she cut him off, closing the book with a snap and standing up. "I'll leave this here. I suggest you read it, maybe research a way to control yourself."

"Granger –!"

"I won't tell Harry. That's up to you. I've found you your cure; take it or leave it." She turned and headed for the portrait door.

For a moment, Draco could only watch her leave. Then, returning to himself, he strode after her. "Hey."

She paused, waiting expectantly.

"What exactly are you telling me to do? You think it's better to leave things as they are?"

"...The situation you're in isn't ideal, but at least this way... no one's getting hurt."

Ah. So that was it. This, apparently, was Granger's version of a warning. She thought Harry would reject him, if a situation ever arose in which he was given a choice. Nice bit of information to have.

"You don't know what would happen if... if I told him," he felt the need to protest, defiant to the last.

She nodded once, conceding, but then shrugged. "You have one friend in the world right now. Can you take the chance of alienating him?"

Sneering, he turned away from her and listened as the portrait opened and closed, and he was alone. Slowly, he sank down onto the couch and picked up the book she'd left behind. He really was going to have to read up on being a werewolf, because he didn't think he could take any more surprises...

xxx

Meanwhile, Harry gasped with relief as he was finally able to release Ron's dead weight, dumping his friend on the common room couch and standing back to rotate his shoulder. This – he swore to himself, all the while knowing it was a lie – would be the last time he dealt with the aftermath of one of Malfoy's ridiculously unique curses. God only knew what the blonde's spell had done, but it had Ron acting as if he were barely conscious, though Harry couldn't find a single visible symptom. Not even a head wound from the fall he'd taken.

"Wha' happ'ned...?" Ron mumbled as he lay reeling, slumping until he rested on his side, his head pillowed by the armrest.

Sighing, Harry moved to grab a stool and dragged it across the carpet until he could perch before the prone redhead. He rested his elbow and on his knee and his chin in his hand. "Malfoy," he said simply.

A flicker of a scowl crossed the other boy's face. "Bastard..." he said dazedly. "Least there're no slugs this time."

Harry smiled at the memory. "Yeah, well. I doubt you'll be this grateful when you're back to normal."

"Mm," Ron agreed compliantly, closing his eyes with a slight wince. He shifted, apparently to get more comfortable. Harry stood up, seeing that the redhead was on the verge of sleep. Ron's muffled voice made him pause. "So. You really friends with him then?"

Harry hesitated before responding. "Yeah," he said eventually, nodding. "Yeah. Sorry, mate."

"Hn," Ron grunted. "He's still a git."

"You're telling me..."

xxx

Severus had the odd experience of watching his teenage self hurry past in pursuit of – God help him – Lily Evans. He half cringed watching the spectacle and remembering, despite himself, the pathetic mess of frustration and hormones and affection she'd always managed to turn him into without seeming to try. Had those feelings always been so obvious to those watching them together? Because the display disgusted him now. He could almost – almost – understand why Potter and Black had felt the need to pick on him so incessantly back in the day, if he'd constantly looked as he did in this particular memory.

With that thought, he glanced around, looking for Remus in the scene. The boy was stood with his back to a nearby wall, arms clutching a stack of books. He was alone, and though he was in plain sight, not at all obscured by shadow or alcove, it seemed none of the students passing by noticed him. Even Lily, a close friend, didn't so much as glance his way, and the younger Severus, caught up in the wonder of talking to the vibrant girl who'd always captivated him, practically walked into the werewolf and still didn't acknowledge his presence.

That surprised the Potions Master. Hadn't he always prided himself on being observant? No, he hadn't liked the quietest Marauder any more than he'd liked the other three, but he felt certain he should have at least noticed him.

After all, he knew what it was like to be ignored so thoroughly. Even being met with hatred was better than a complete lack of acknowledgement.

Besides, Severus found it hard to believe he'd never noticed someone who watched him like that.

The werewolf wore the same expression as he had in the first memory Severus had glimpsed, showing the two of them in the library where Remus had watched him over a book; it was the same expression he'd seen Weasley wear around Granger, when he thought no one else was watching. And, seeing it now, it was both unnerving and oddly flattering to know that someone, anyone, had wanted his attention. True, Lily had treated him like a friend – no, more like an acquaintance. But she'd worn his infatuation like an accessory, and merely tolerated his persistent presence at her side. He found he could admit these things now, in such distant retrospect.

Unexpectedly, he felt a tiny surge of guilt to realise he'd somehow earned a similar dedication without ever knowing.

Uncomfortable, he swiftly withdrew from the scene and ended the session. Opposite him, Lupin rubbed his eyes, leaned back against the chair behind him and murmured, "Finally tired of investigating my memories?"

The Potions Master tilted an eyebrow. He had thought he was being subtle in his examinations.

The other man caught sight of his expression and laughed a little. "You're a Slytherin. I would have been suspicious if you weren't taking advantage of this situation. See anything interesting?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, watching his companion carefully. He thought first of how he had noted the werewolf's suddenly submissive attitude around his supposed mate, and then of the mysterious expression he'd glimpsed seconds ago, and his own conflicted feelings on the matter. Still, it would not do to mention any of that.

He waited silently, expecting Lupin to get up and flee the room as he usually did. Neither of them moved, and Severus, to his annoyance, could feel his own curiosity rising.

Eventually, he just had to ask.

"Purely out of morbid fascination, why are you persisting in this ludicrous attraction, Lupin?"

The werewolf looked shocked, for a moment. He sat up straighter, shifting to stretch the stiffness from his crossed legs. He seemed to be considering, and after a while, shrugged. "In all honesty, I've asked myself the same question before now, and I have no idea. I am aware that it's hardly conductive to my own self-preservation." He half smiled, wryly.

Severus frowned. "Besides which, I was under the impression that your kind mated for life."

"We do."

"In which case, it occurs to me that your clumsy come-ons are even more pointless than I first assumed." He tilted his head, finding this a perfectly valid point, even though Lupin gaped at him incredulously in response.

"My clumsy what? Severus! I rarely say a word to you! You talk like I... I harass you or something!"

The Potions Master snorted. "As if you could, Lupin. No, my point was simply why –" He stopped, caught off guard to find himself flustered. Impatiently swiping the emotion aside, he started again, toning his voice to an unimpressed drawl. "Why are you interested? Especially since you've already known your mate. I would have thought it to be... impossible."

Lupin stared at him intently. Severus thought he looked more animated than usual, even a little angry. "I'm more than my curse, you know," the werewolf suddenly snapped. "You never understood that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means – Oh never mind!" Obviously frustrated, Lupin rose to his feet with a scowl.

Perplexed, the Potions Master copied the motion, vaguely wondering what the hell had just happened. For once, he'd been quite certain he hadn't insulted the other man. Or hadn't been trying to, anyway.

"Lupin, for God's sake – Ah!" Without warning, the pain hit him. He winced and clapped a hand to his forearm, which burned beneath the material of his robes. Yanking up the sleeve, he eyed the disfiguring tattoo that now shone darkly and seemed to writhe on his flesh. "Death Eater meeting," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Lupin went white. "It's time, isn't it?" he asked faintly. "Am I ready?"

Severus regarded him evenly. "You'll have to be. You know the story, the theory. All you have to do is keep my defences at the front of your mind. Can you do that?"

The werewolf closed his eyes, and visibly gathered his nerve. "Yes," he answered, when he could.

The Potions Master nodded, and moved toward the fireplace, reaching out to grasp a pinch of the Floo Powder that rested on the mantelpiece. "I'll inform the Headmaster that we're moving now, and then you can Floo down to Hogsmeade and Apparate from there. You remember where you're going? Good. Now, you heard from me where the meetings were held, during one of my reports to Dumbledore, and tonight you just happened to be nearby when my Mark activated and took the opportunity –"

"Severus, I know. We've gone over this a hundred times."

"Forgive me if I doubt your acting skills!" he barked back. "I know how close you keep your emotions to the surface. You damn well better keep them in check tonight!"

Remus stopped short of snarling some retaliation. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, who paused in turn, hesitating with the green powder in his hand.

"What?" Severus asked suspiciously when he failed to translate the sudden silence. "Are you having second thoughts? This won't work if you're having second –"

"No, it's not that. It's just... you're worried about me."

The Slytherin sneered. "I'm worried about the mission, Lupin. The distinction is quite clear."

Remus might have pushed the point, but suddenly his eyes widened. "Merlin, I haven't talked to Harry yet! I meant to tell him before now, I just didn't think it would come so soon and I wasn't sure how he'd take it. And there's Draco. Severus, I need –"

"Not now, there's no time. I'll be sure to inform Potter of the situation, if you insist he needs to know. And I'm sure he'll tell Draco; the two have been spending a sickening amount of time together lately."

The werewolf hesitated, but conceded to the logic. "Just... don't be cruel to him this once," he pleaded, before moving toward the door. "I'll take another fireplace while you're updating the Headmaster. And Severus?"

Exasperated, the Potions Master turned to look at him, raising an expectant eyebrow. Then, for a horrible moment, he was sure the man was about to do something horribly dramatic and Gryffindorish in a fit of nobility. Like try to kiss him.

His alarm must have shown on his face, as Lupin suddenly grinned, amused. "Wish me luck," was all he said.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Luck will do you no favours," he muttered, watching the werewolf disappear from his rooms and listening to the hurried footsteps fade away from his hearing. Only when he was certain the man was truly gone did he relent, and whispered barely audibly, "...Luck."

Then he tossed the shower of green powder into the flames and summoned Dumbledore.

xxx

It had been hours since Granger left, and still Draco had barely moved from the spot where he'd sat down immediately after her departure. He'd gotten up once, to go to the bathroom, and once more to change into pyjamas after a quick Tempus charm revealed that it was well into late evening. Now he curled comfortably at one end of the couch, the heavy book she'd left behind balanced on the armrest and open to a point past the midway mark. He'd been reading furiously ever since deciding to learn more about his own affliction, half hoping to find some loophole that the witch had missed.

Common sense told him that wouldn't happen, but still he tried.

Yet even as he despairingly sought some escape from his apparent fate, her words echoed in his head – the carefully worded warning that, when put bluntly, meant that she thought Harry would have nothing to do with him if he knew – and, to his horror, the dread that the very prospect caused made him sick to his stomach.

And she was right, wasn't she? He should have learned by now that Potter would never place him top priority, as proven by the display earlier that morning. Twice now he'd been rejected in favour of Weasley. Mixed-signal-sending bastard! So much for that 'friend' crap...

So, bitterly, the Slytherin resignedly studied every word of the book before him, hoping for but not really expecting an escape from his predicament. It was just too perfectly ironic not to be true.

It startled him out of his trance to hear a knock from outside the portrait. He stood with difficulty, cursing when one leg immediately went dead and just about managing to limp across the expanse of the room.

When the frame swung open, for some reason he hadn't expected to see Potter, even though there were few others with a reason to visit him. So, for a few seconds, he merely blinked in surprise, not yet registering the expression the Gryffindor wore.

"Why'd you knock?" was the first inane question to come out of his mouth when he finally spoke. "You usually just walk on in... Are you okay?" Belatedly, it occurred to him that the usually animated boy was pale and quite visibly tense, barely moving at all, and his eyes were wide and terribly dark behind his ridiculous frames.

"He's going to Voldemort," Harry said, without preamble.

Draco winced and stared at the Gryffindor, scandalised. "What? Who?" Even as he spoke, he reached out and dragged the other inside, making sure the portrait shut firmly behind them.

"Remus," was the strained answer. "He's going tonight, to be... to be a spy! Snape, of all people, just told me!" He buried both his hands in his hair, pulling in distress. "No warning, no goodbye, he's just... gone."

The blond stared at him in confusion. "Potter, they've been preparing for ages. You mean no one told you?"

Green eyes flew toward him, devastated. "What? They've... what?" His shock was so strong that it was obvious this was the first he was hearing of anything.

Draco shrugged. "I assumed you knew and just didn't want to talk about it," he defended himself honestly.

"But... They told you and not me?" He looked anguished by the unfairness of it, by the entire situation, and Draco could sympathise. It had always concerned him no end whenever Severus had been away for extended periods.

He shook his head. "No one told me, either. I just noticed that Severus and Lupin started meeting ever since Severus lost his job as spy. And unless they're carrying on an illicit love affair – unlikely, at best – it made the most sense that they were preparing for Lupin to take his place."

"How could you possibly work that out?"

"I was put in Slytherin for a reason, Harry. It wasn't just the name 'Malfoy'." Sighing, he moved to return to his spot on the couch, dropping down bonelessly.

It seemed the Gryffindor only then looked at him properly, noticing the open book and pyjamas, the tired circles beneath tired eyes. "Oh, sorry. I didn't think about disturbing you..."

Cross legged, with the book in his lap, Draco glanced up at the other scathingly. "Just sit down. You put me on edge, hovering like that."

It was such a normal, trivial little criticism that Harry felt a rush of relief for the blond. This was why he'd come here, because the Slytherin understood. Hermione's nerves would have been infectious, and Ron's bad attempts at reassurance even worse. He couldn't stand their presence right now, but he needed Draco's.

Crossing to where the blond sat, he lowered himself into place next to him, fighting strangely clashing sensations of restlessness and exhaustion. His hands clenched, digging anxiously into the couch cushions he sat upon as nervous, angry energy surged through him. He was going to kill Remus if he came back alive! How could he have done this when he was the only adult Harry had left? He hadn't even had the decency to ask! To give him some warning, some chance to prepare–

The touch made him start, and he looked down sharply as long, pale fingers firmly pried loose the fist he'd made and insistently tangled with his own. In shock, he stared at the blond, but Draco's eyes had never left the page, as if he had no idea of what his hand was doing of its own accord. He said nothing, merely continued to read, and yet his hold was so tight that Harry had no choice but to grip back, and did so thankfully.

"I don't want to sleep," he whispered suddenly, the admission unprompted.

The Slytherin's fingers squeezed once, but it was enough. Then don't, the small gesture said. We'll wait.

And so they waited, sleepless and silent.