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 32: Making Arrangements
xxx
"I would, of course, offer you some refreshments and a change of attire, but I believe we have more important things to discuss for the moment. Don't you agree?"
Narcissa stared at the old man before her and knew immediately that the whispers of his senility were even more outlandish than she'd imagined. Dumbledore might well be eccentric, and growing even more so with age, but this was definitely the same sharp mind – right down to the infuriatingly knowing eyes – that she'd known back in her own time as a student. He had intimidated her then, and now was no different. The only advantage she'd gained over the years was that, now, she could hide the small weakness.
"I'm here for my son."
Steepled fingers were immediately in place, usually a sign of a coming argument. "I'm afraid I have a prior agreement with Mr Malfoy that he would remain at this school –"
"You misunderstand me, Headmaster," she said, adopting the best diplomatic tone she could muster with her frayed nerves. "I'm here because I have chosen his side."
Dumbledore looked amused for a second. "His side? I don't believe you've had the chance to so much as hear his motives yet, my dear."
She lifted her chin stubbornly. "He is my son. Whatever his motives, they can be no worse than the madness that has overcome my husband in this last year. I've been criminally stupid in remaining with him this long, when instead I should have been with Draco. I was almost killed tonight, simply for voicing doubts, and I do believe Lucius has shown me his last act of loyalty in allowing me to escape with my life." She sat up straighter in her chair, refusing to fuss self-consciously with her hair and clothes, which would only draw attention to the mangled state she was in.
The Headmaster regarded her evenly from behind his desk, and she could practically feel his judgement. The jovial grandfather figure had disappeared in the blink of an eye, to be replaced by the shrewd and ancient wizard. "You come here expecting my protection to extend to you also, Narcissa Malfoy? You, who have committed crimes that your son is yet innocent of?"
"I have done nothing!" she hissed, leaning forward. "You condemn me for my husband's reputation! Look, see for yourself!" She dragged up her sleeves and bared pale, unmarked forearms for his inspection. "I've always refused to bow and scrape before that madman like some common House Elf, and tonight was my final defiance. The Dark Lord no longer wants to set eyes upon myself or Draco, and Lucius is hanging on to his favour by a thread."
"Forgive me if I find your sudden appearance here the slightest bit suspicious –"
"I can swear all this to you under Veritaserum, if needs be." Her desperation must have been greater than she herself anticipated, for her to make such a hasty offer, but still she would follow through, if he asked. "And I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. I merely ask that you allow me access to Draco."
Dumbledore was silent, watching the woman with interest. This was not the aristocratic, refined wife seen in public – this was her as a mother, and it was no act. "The situation is not that simple, Mrs Malfoy," he said slowly, picking words with care. He could feel the magic of his own spell suddenly tightening the air, ensuring that he didn't reveal a secret that wasn't his own. "There is much that has... changed since the school year began, and which I am not qualified to tell you. It concerns me that I find myself wondering whether your present affections can withstand the revelations to come."
"What are you talking about?"
She watched in puzzlement as the old man opened his mouth to reply, only to remain silent, as if the very words were snatched from him. He smiled wryly. "It seems I'm not at liberty to explain any further. I shall say only that Mr Malfoy has altered a great deal already this year, but I do believe it's for the good, despite first impressions."
With difficulty, she fought down the rising tumult of questions. Before she could even begin to worry about whatever it was the Headmaster was implying, she had to first make sure she could even see Draco again after this. "If you still doubt my intentions, I have information I can give you. You'll want to hear it."
One silvery brow was raised. "Is that so? Continue, my dear."
"You have a traitor among your people, Headmaster. The wolf, Lupin, was at the meeting tonight, proposing to join the –"
Dumbledore sat forward sharply, his eyes deadly serious. "Remus Lupin was still alive when you saw him?"
Taken aback, she nodded hesitantly. "He was just before I fled. I think he was even among those to throw curses at me, though of course they went wide..." She narrowed her eyes, seeing his relief quite clearly. "You knew he was there. He's another spy, like Severus, isn't he?"
Slowly, the Headmaster sat back, once again tapping his fingertips together thoughtfully. "I must confess that Professor Lupin is in fact there with my approval." A rather sly look was beginning to creep into those blue eyes, which were twinkling annoyingly, she thought. "However, it does present a problem that you're now aware of this very confidential project."
"Obliviate me if you must, but please –"
Dumbledore spoke on as if he hadn't heard a word she'd just said. "Yes, a rather large problem indeed. I'm afraid, my dear, that I simply can't allow you to leave the castle after this. For fear of word spreading, you see." He gazed at her pointedly, willing her to take the offer for what it was.
The Slytherin in her recognised it immediately. "Y-you'll allow me to stay?"
He sighed. "Well, it would seem I have no choice, wouldn't it?" He smiled for a brief second, before his persona became serious again. "I am afraid I'll have to take you up on that offer of Veritaserum, though."
She nodded, refusing to show how pathetically grateful she felt in that moment. "Of course. Immediately?"
"Well, I shall escort you down to the Hospital Wing and you can get cleaned up there while Poppy prepares a small drop of truth serum. Better to get it all over and done with, hmm?" He stood and came around the desk to join her, holding out an arm to guide her toward the door. "You may speak with Mr Malfoy at length in the morning," he told her, then chuckled. "If, that is, you can pry him away from Mr Potter long enough."
She gave him a rather concerned look. "Yes, Severus informed me of their... acquaintance. How odd, knowing the history."
"Really? You think so? I always believed it inevitable..."
xxx
"Finally finished fucking each other then?"
Startled, Harry whirled around, his bundle of discarded clothes still in hand, and squinted into the darkness, quickly locating the speaker. Ron was lying on his side facing Harry, who had previously assumed everyone already asleep. His expression was pure spite.
When he registered the words, Harry almost choked. "What?" he hissed, trying not to wake the others in his indignation.
"Well, you must have been doing something to keep you out this late, and the two of you are pretty much all over each other nowadays."
That, Harry knew, was a lie. He and Draco conducted their newfound friendship much as they'd conducted their rivalry: sarcastic barbs flung back and forth, bickering that had barely lost its edge and certainly no public displays of affection. In fact, his peers might have thought nothing had changed at all, except for the fact that the Gryffindor now willingly subjected himself to this torment, for whatever unfathomable reason.
Ron snorted, continuing his bitter tirade. "S'pose Malfoy's found a use for himself after all this time. Must be good for a quick throw-down, eh? Coz God knows you've lost your mind if you see anything else in that slimy –"
"Shut up," he spat furiously, thankful Ron couldn't see the colour that had flooded his cheeks at the innuendos. With jerky movements, he pulled back the curtain on his own bed and slipped inside, yanking it closed behind him and turning his back in the redhead's direction.
It didn't stop the stream of venom that was the other boy's monologue. "Gotta say, never thought you'd pick him over me, mate. You do remember all the things he's done to us, don't you? Like – oh, let's see, last year – when he was leading Umbridge to us. Or when he made those fucking badges about us. Or Buckbeak! That all happened, Harry! How can you just... just forget?"
Harry closed his eyes, wanting to tune out the words and the memories that were creeping into his head.
"I realise he's your latest pity project and all –"
And suddenly Harry was chuckling, turning his face into the pillow in an effort to muffle the sound, but obviously failing as Ron fell abruptly silent. But really, he couldn't think of anyone less deserving of pity than Draco. Not just because he was a thorough git, but because he was... Draco. All sneering, proud superiority that simply didn't allow for pity from anyone, even at his lowest. And after meeting his mother tonight, seeing, just for a few minutes, the same steely strength in her that ran through the Slytherin, he found even the idea of looking down on either of them impossible to contemplate.
That Ron thought he could was so ridiculous it was funny.
"What are you laughing at?" the redhead snapped, as he was finally regaining his calm.
"Nothing," he said, his mirth dying in his chest. "Just leave it."
"No!" There was the sound of sheets and quilt being thrown aside as the other boy sat up, infuriated. "No, I won't! This is stupid, Harry!"
Giving up on trying to deter the argument, he sat up as well and pulled open the curtain. "What? What's so stupid? You don't even know him!"
Ron looked as if someone had just slapped him. "I – I – My God, I don't believe you just said that to me! Can you still hear yourself?"
Harry sneered, in what he thought was a good impression of the subject of their argument. "I could ask you the same thing. You wanna know why I was with Draco till now? Because I didn't want to face this, tonight, of all nights."
"Why? What's so special about –"
He'd wanted to avoid this; hadn't planned to explain the events of the night until he himself had discovered the outcome. But suddenly there was no holding back the outburst. He leaned forward, speaking in a hiss of anger. "Remus has gone, Ron. He's taken Snape's place as spy. He could be dead by now, for all anyone knows..." Once again, the reality hit him and he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
The redhead was staring at him, frozen, for once caught speechless. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to react, but no sound came. Finally, after a struggle, he managed, "W-what...? But why?"
"I don't know!" Harry spat, tugging his hair again. "I don't – He didn't – I –"
"You went to Malfoy with this?"
Harry stopped short. "Yes, that's the priority here, Ron."
The boy at least had the good grace to flush sheepishly. "That's not what I meant. But... but you couldn't come to me? Or Hermione? You had to go to fucking Malfoy?" Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Why? It's not like he even cares what happens to Remus!"
Harry closed his eyes and decided firmly that continuing the conversation was useless. He had no patience for this right now. Grasping his wand from the bedside table, he shut the curtains again and cast a Sticking Charm, followed by a Silencing Spell. Ron could yell and rage all he liked; it didn't mean he had to listen.
xxx
Most people assumed it was Lucius Malfoy who'd appointed Severus as his son's godfather. Few knew that it had actually been Narcissa's decision, a result of the friendship that had waxed and waned between them over the years since school. They went through periods of closeness, inevitably followed by times when circumstance made it too difficult to keep in touch. They'd come to accept the arrangement. Really, what else could be expected when they had each chosen different sides in the war?
And yet, now, Severus was forced to wonder what it meant for them, with Narcissa's apparent change of heart. He could guess with reasonable accuracy why she'd come here. She intended to stand by Draco, who in turn intended to stand by Potter.
He wasn't sure how they'd work out as consistent friends. Severus didn't do consistent friends very well. People tended to drift in and out of his life continuously, few of them staying long enough to be significant, and he'd come to quite like it that way. In fact, one reason Potter managed to grate on him so easily was because the boy was the shadow of James; James, who'd been among the few lingering torments in his life.
Sighing, he shook aside these thoughts and flicked his wand, unlocking the door to his rooms and stepping inside with a vague sense of relief.
Just as the fire flared emerald.
He fell back against the closed door in pure shock as a figure stumbled out of the fireplace, staggering unsteadily to a halt on the mat in the middle of the room. Severus blinked, common sense quelling his instincts just in time, and he lowered his wand as he recognised Lupin. Quick, searching glance told him all he needed to know – pinpricked pupils at the centre of the overly bright golden irises and the odd little tremors that went through the other man; he was looking at the symptoms of one too many Crucios.
He stepped forward barely in time to steady the werewolf, catching him with difficulty as the man sagged.
"S-Severus..."
The Potions Master ignored him as best he could, eyes going to the vial of blue liquid he'd left out earlier. Out of reach unless he let go of Lupin, who would no doubt collapse without him – as amusing as the scenario might have been any other time – he managed to fumble his wand into position and summon the potion with a quick flick.
"Drink this," he order brusquely, wondering if he'd have to drag the other to the nearest chair, as he certainly wasn't standing like this all night. Noticing how badly Lupin's hands were shaking, he gritted his teeth and uncorked the vial himself, even forcing the other to drink with a few swift, not ungentle manipulations, hoping the numbing properties of the draught would kick in quickly and at least return the werewolf to some semblance of normality.
"It hurts," Lupin was babbling nonsensically, repeating the words.
"I know," he ground out in response. "I warned you it would." He didn't add that he hadn't believed they'd leave the man in this state.
Suddenly, the werewolf had grasped at his robes, his expression showing the same desperation as the night he'd pleaded with Severus for something to allow him to sleep. "No! I mean it hurts! Oh my God...!" Without warning, Lupin had dropped to his knees, hunched over protectively and shuddering.
The sneer that had formed on his mouth abruptly faded as alarm bells sounded. Instinctively, he crouched beside the werewolf, reaching out roughly and forcing him to uncurl. His hand closed around the other's wrist, unsympathetic to the protests being frantically murmured, and he raked back the concealing sleeve.
Almost immediately he closed his eyes in horror. This had not been part of the plan. No, damn it!
But even when he dared to look again, the Mark remained, freshly branded but identical to his own. Around the image of skull and snake, previously unmarred flesh was an ugly red, burned by the Dark magic that had touched it.
"What did you do?" he whispered disbelievingly, shaking his head. How had this happened? Lupin wasn't supposed to be Marked! He was a werewolf! He shouldn't even have been allowed to be Marked!
Said werewolf was leaning heavily against his side, and now unashamedly pressed his face into the Potion Master's shoulder, shivering. Detachedly, Severus supposed the man was in shock. Hell, he was in shock!
"What did you do...?"