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 35: Creativity
xxx
"Your Mum's gone home then?"
"Yep. She had the House Elves take her things from the Manor last night, left this morning."
"...And she's... y'know, taking it well?"
Turning his head slightly so that the wind blew his hair away from his eyes, Draco shrugged. "Surprisingly, yes. She cried a couple of times – God, I hate it when she does that – and she still wants to watch Lupin die a painful death, but... yeah. She's okay with it." He frowned, still vaguely amazed at the thought.
"I thought she would be," Harry said calmly, his breath coming out misted in the cold air as he walked alongside the blonde, his trainers crunching the frosted grass underfoot.
"Oh come off it," Draco muttered, glancing sidelong at his companion with narrowed eyes. "I know damn well what you thought, Potter. You expected my second disownment of the bloody month."
The Gryffindor snorted in amusement despite himself. "I did not..." he protested feebly, grinning.
Draco made some sceptical sound and shook his head wryly. "It's a good job you're better at Quidditch than you are at lying, because this would be an entirely pointless exercise otherwise..." That said, he shrugged the broom he carried into a more secure position on his shoulder and glanced smugly at the other boy.
Harry, Firebolt in hand, glared back as they made their way onto the pitch. He hadn't bothered changing into his Quidditch robes, instead donning scruffy jeans, old jumper and Gryffindor scarf. Similarly, Draco seemed to be dressing down as well – in a way Harry hadn't believed him capable of – wearing the only sweater he possessed that wasn't tailored and his own House scarf.
He stared up at the stands and the empty air of the pitch thoughtfully, hearing the echo of cheers and taunts that had rung out over the years and, even now, resounded in his memory. Next to him, the Slytherin wore the same contemplative expression, no doubt reliving his own experiences of the game.
Harry elbowed him before moving to mount his Firebolt. "Ready?" he asked, eying the little golden ball the other Seeker held, already struggling for freedom.
The blonde answered by swinging his leg over his own broom, kicking off into a slow ascent as he stared expectantly at the Gryffindor. Harry followed, his eyes darting to the side as the Slytherin released the Snitch and it streaked away from them.
"You'd better not play any cheap tricks like Chang did!" Draco called to him as they rose into the air together.
Harry quirked an eyebrow and had to smile. "And there I thought you'd have called that a Slytherin trick," he pointed out with false innocence, echoing the words he'd once taken as an insult.
"Watch your mouth, Potter!" the blond snapped, looking offended. "There's a very short list of people I give that honour to, and she's not on it!"
The Gryffindor chuckled. "And I am?"
"You have your moments," the Slytherin consented, grudgingly. His expression remained aloof for a few more seconds before a smile of genuine amusement crossed his features and he laughed. "Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? An invitation?" And, without any other decent warning, he accelerated with a surge of speed, bursting into the sky on the trail of the Snitch.
Grin feral, Harry took off in hot pursuit.
xxx
With classes finished for the day, Ron sat in the common room with nothing to do. He hated to admit it, but he was bored. Hermione was in one of those moods that meant you couldn't get her attention unless you were quoting "Hogwarts: A History", and Harry... Well. Ron didn't know where he was, and didn't care to find out, thank you very much.
Moodily, he propped his feet up on a nearby stool and slumped back into the armchair, folding his arms and scowling at anyone who looked at him for too long. He might have resorted to chess, but most of Gryffindor refused to play him these days, knowing they'd inevitably lose. Besides, he didn't have the patience for it right now.
Sighing dramatically, he cast around for something to do, eyes travelling over the other occupants of the room. Lavender and Parvatti, as ever, sat gossiping and giggling in the corner. Colin sat cross-legged on the floor, his camera in his lap and what looked like a scrapbook open before him. Neville was pruning some kind of miniature tree with a concentration that made Ron's head hurt just watching.
He rolled his eyes and looked away, feeling irrationally annoyed that no one was entertaining him. Merlin, surely there was something to do around here? Besides homework.
He glanced over as Lavender suddenly stood up and, dragging Parvatti, headed towards the boys' dormitories. Seamus was beckoning them both excitedly.
Frowning, Ron leaned forward, trying to peer around the corner to see what was going on, but the girls had already disappeared upstairs. And, even as he looked on, others were beginning to stir, mumbling curiously. Seamus still stood indicating, explaining something Ron couldn't hear. Within seconds, people were following Lavender's lead, trailing up into the dormitories.
Perplexed, Ron stood up and stalked over to the Irish boy, intending to demand to know what was going on, but Seamus turned and jogged up the stairs. Infuriated, the redhead hurried after him.
His room was packed. Gryffindors crowded to one side of the dorm, murmuring, jostling slightly. Wide eyed with indignity, it took him a moment to gather himself, and then he was shouldering his way through the mass of people, growling incoherently to himself.
"Can you see –?"
"Wow –"
"What are they doing –?"
"That's so cool –"
The snippets of conversation were nonsense to him until he reached the front of the small crowd to find Seamus and Katie practically hanging out the window, their expressions rapt.
"What are you looking at?" he snapped, reaching them.
Without turning round, Katie reached behind her and fumbled until she grabbed his shirt, then yanked him into place between her and Seamus. He stumbled, batting away her hand, and looked up.
He knew immediately what they were all staring at. He just couldn't believe it.
"...What are they doing?"
Katie shook her head in amazement. "It's a Seeker's game... Have you ever seen flying like that? From either of them?"
Ron was silent, fixated on the blurred streaks of colour that slashed the grey sky one way and then another above the Quidditch pitch, all speed and no restraint. Even from his distant vantage point, he knew this wasn't the same type of flying that was used in a match. A real game was all about efficiency and tactic; what he was watching was aerial dramatics that simply couldn't be performed with other players in the way. He wondered, absently, if either Seeker was really looking for the Snitch, or if they were just showing off a level of speed and skill that couldn't usually be displayed.
As if from a distance, he heard Colin whispering, "I've got to get some pictures of this..." There came the sound of the door opening and feet pounding down the stairs. A second's pause, and then Katie's head whipped around, eyes pinning him.
"Come on, Weasley. We need better seats..." Once again, she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, and the next thing he knew he was being forcibly dragged from the room with the rest of their Quidditch team, while most of his housemates swarmed to take their place at the window.
xxx
He was plummeting in freefall, the frozen ground speeding up towards him dauntingly, biting air cutting through his clothes and hair. He gasped for breath against the rush of too much oxygen and with numb fingers, clutched the broom handle.
Just in time to avoid collision, he pulled up and skimmed along the grassy pitch, enjoying the thrill of fear that lingered in his veins.
He glanced up to watch his companion as he weaved between the stands across from Harry. Blonde hair shone bright against the dull grey backdrop of winter sky. Unthinking, the Gryffindor continued to stare even as he returned to a higher vantage point, circling lazily, fascinated by the Slytherin's movements.
Draco's style had changed, he was sure. He wondered if the difference was because of the werewolf reflexes, or simply because he wasn't as tense as he usually tended to be during matches. The other Seeker seemed more graceful in the air all of a sudden, calmer, more confident.
After a while, it occurred to him that he'd been distracted for going on five minutes. Regaining himself, he shook his head and cast around for the Snitch, scanning all corners of the pitch.
Surprisingly, it didn't take a moment to spot, hovering at the midway mark. Harry saw it and surged forward, gritting his teeth with the exertion and excitement. At the other side of the pitch, the blonde caught the movement from the corner of his eye, and without having to think, wheeled around and aimed directly at the approaching Gryffindor. The Snitch fluttered directly between them, and it was a race to see which would get there first.
Draco pressed himself to the broom and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the tiny golden ball ahead of him, only once flicking to his rival, to see his own determined expression mirrored there. The wind stung his eyes as he streaked through the air, making him squint until the world narrowed to the Snitch and Harry. He forgot to breathe, holding his breath behind clenched teeth and positioning himself ready to reach forward.
And then the Snitch, as if sensing it was trapped, rocketed directly upwards. Harry's head snapped backwards to watch it go, eyes searching the sky. The golden ball travelled vertically, almost becoming lost in the clouds.
"Potter!"
Harry looked back in shock, having forgotten that he was hurtling towards the other Seeker. He made the motion to pull up, but hesitated when he saw the blonde's intent. Draco yelled again and, smirking a challenge, held out his hand.
The Gryffindor understood in a second. Reacting instinctively, he swerved slightly to the right so that he'd just skim by the other player, and struck out his hand in return, clasping the Slytherin's wrist as they passed. Immediately, the force of Draco's velocity combined with his own, and Harry felt a second's disorientation as he was spun around. With some difficulty, he angled his broom handle upwards, never letting go of his companion, and suddenly the two of them were travelling a tight spiral skywards.
Amazed, he laughed with pure exhilaration. His fingers loosened their hold on the blonde gradually, but the momentum continued until they were angled almost totally vertical, their spiral still intact. His eyes flicked between the Snitch and Draco, who flew perfectly level with him. The Slytherin was thoroughly focused, his face turned upwards. All his refinement had vanished somewhere during their chase. Green scarf had been lost somewhere along the way, and pale hair tangled at his neck. Once, he lowered his eyes to Harry, and they were wolf-white once again.
The Gryffindor had never known him to be more attractive.
Together, they continued higher and higher, fighting for the lead. By now, the Snitch was just ahead of them, frantically trying to evade its pursuers. Harry struggled to brace himself against the broom and reach up at the same time. He heard Draco's soft growl of protest as his fingers brushed the prize, so close–
He slipped. Automatically, the hand that grabbed at the Snitch retracted, clutching the broom handle to stop himself falling.
The Slytherin surged past him, his hand whipping out and capturing the tiny ball.
Harry looked on in shock as the blonde circled back towards him, looking just as astounded. He held the Snitch as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, wide eyed and blinking.
"Did I...?"
Harry had to chuckle at the honest disbelief on his companion's face. "Nice catch," he commented, beginning to guide the Firebolt downwards again. Draco trailed behind as they descended. Out of sight, the Gryffindor smiled. When it finally hit home, he'd never hear the end of this.
It was only as they were touching down that Harry noticed them. He froze in surprise, faced by the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and Colin Creevey snapping pictures like there was no tomorrow. He resisted the urge to curse the flashing camera.
Draco came to stand by him, hesitating slightly. Harry glanced at him, and braced himself. "C'mon," he muttered, and moved to face his friends, Slytherin in tow.
It didn't take long to realise that, yes, the whole team was present – Ron included. His attention went straight to the redhead, who stared back blankly for a moment before looking away, stubborn. Harry narrowed his eyes in response, but it was a gesture unseen by the boy.
Katie walked straight up to him and folded her arms. "Why, Potter, don't you play that well in matches?"
Harry stared at her incredulously. "I just lost," he pointed out, reasonably.
"That's not– You what?" Her attention turned on Draco, and then to the Snitch that still struggled in his hand. "First time for everything, I suppose..." she said at last, scathingly.
Glaring, the blonde wordlessly held up a finger to the girl. The insult somewhat lost its potency with his ruffled appearance.
Harry sighed. "Why are you – Colin, knock it off, yeah? – why are you all out here?"
The other team members had begun to approach, glancing at the Slytherin warily. Ginny came to stand next to Katie, looking him over curiously. "We were watching you play from the Tower," she confessed, unashamed. "That was brilliant, Harry."
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course. All credit goes to Potter, as usual..."
The redheaded girl raised an eyebrow at him. "Anyone would think you were jealous, Malfoy."
The Slytherin smiled coldly and raised the Snitch. "I have no reason to be," he murmured smugly.
Exasperated, Harry sidestepped Ginny and Katie and began walking, Firebolt over his shoulder. He'd felt good after their game, but for some reason the arrival of his team had dissipated the mood. He wanted to go back inside.
"Oy! Potter!" Draco called out in annoyance, stalking after him with a look of distaste as he passed by the other Gryffindors.
Katie watched the two go with a slight frown. Next to her, Ginny looked amused and Ron, who had joined them with Malfoy's departure, was expressionless.
"You know what this means, don't you?" she said eventually to the two siblings.
Ginny looked at her in question.
She sighed mournfully. "I've never seen Harry play that well. And Malfoy just beat him. Gryffindor are screwed."
Ron glowered at the retreating Seekers. "Bastard..." he muttered sullenly, though it was impossible to know which boy he was referring to.
xxx
"And justice is finally done," Draco crowed victoriously as they re-entered the school. He was smirking, thoroughly self-satisfied, as he yet again showed off the captured Snitch, practically waving it in the Gryffindor's face.
Harry glanced at him in exasperation. "Weren't you supposed to put that back once we were finished?" he asked dryly, half hoping to dent the annoyingly good mood.
The Slytherin just shrugged. "Probably," he answered, examining his prize. "But I'm thinking of keeping it as a memento."
"Oh God..."
Draco flashed a smile at the dread in his companion's voice, amused. Yes, he would definitely be lording this over the other boy for some time to come. He felt like it was the first genuine victory he'd had in far too long; the first time he'd beaten the Gryffindor fairly, both without resorting to tricks or failing spectacularly.
"You're just bitter," he accused, in vain trying to comb back the tangled strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes, windswept and damp.
Harry scoffed indignantly, but didn't get the chance to retort.
"Draco!"
They turned at the sound of the shout to see three other Slytherins following them inside. Pansy and Blaise, whom Harry knew had been the nearest thing to the blonde's best friends, seemed more than a little reluctant as they trailed behind the third, Nott, who approached with what looked like a bad impression of Draco's trademark swagger. Harry fought the urge to laugh at him and his oh so obvious attempt to usurp the Slytherin prince.
"Saw your little performance out there," Nott stated as he came to a halt before the pair.
Draco looked unimpressed, even a little irritated. "Should we just sell tickets next time?" he asked of no one in particular, frowning.
Harry glanced at him, swiftly noting the change of persona. Immediately defensive, the blonde had suddenly reverted to the scorn and cold superiority that Harry had known for so long, up until a few months ago. Ironic, he thought to himself, that it was now fellow Slytherins he'd turned the attitude against, while Harry suspected he was the only one who'd seen the werewolf laugh as he'd been doing this past hour.
"Just because you've leeched on to Potter," Nott was saying snidely when he looked back, "doesn't mean you can give away Slytherin Quidditch tactics, Malfoy."
Draco looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me...?" His eyebrows rose slowly – a warning sign that the Gryffindor recognised, but which Nott evidently missed.
"Why do you think he's out there with you?" the boy demanded, glancing at Harry with a sneer, but saving the real look of disdain for Draco. "Maybe Potter's more Slytherin than we always thought, since he's obviously manipulating you well enough. It's a sad thing to watch."
The werewolf looked more shocked than anything else, blinking wordlessly. Harry almost cringed. Slowly, he took a few steps back, leaning his Firebolt against the wall and folding his arms, turning to watch Nott with a look verging on pity. He remembered his deal with Draco to be equals, and what the blonde had said at the time. "And if it comes to curses between me and another Slytherin, for God's sakes, let it!" And Harry intended to. Really, he thought, Nott deserved what he was about to get.
The idiot seemed oblivious, as well. Not only did he fail to notice Draco's expression – almost completely blank with rage – he didn't appear to realise that, suddenly, he was all alone. Both Blaise and Pansy had gone cold, and slipped away to join Harry by the wall, where the three looked on with calm expectation, united for this brief moment.
"Merlin, Draco, you have sunk to a new low, haven't you?" Nott mused as he had the audacity to crowd the other boy, taking advantage of his taller stature in an attempt at intimidation. The blonde didn't so much as blink, merely staring straight ahead, eye level with the other's collar. Nott, mistakenly, took this for submission and went on. "My God, clinging to Potter? I always knew you liked having money, but to whore yourself out to this extent..."
Harry could just about pinpoint the moment Nott went too far. He considered intervening, then, but as if reading his mind, Blaise gripped his shoulder tightly, keeping him in place. He didn't exactly put up much of a fight, to be fair. He would step in, he decided, only if things got out of hand.
Instead of the lash of magic Harry expected, complete with harsh, wide wand motions, Draco barely moved as his wand slipped from its hiding place inside his sleeve. Only the slight twitch of his fingers alerted the Gryffindor, who had to admire the sneakiness. Nott, oblivious, failed to defend himself when the attack finally came.
The blond murmured it inaudibly, making it impossible to know what curse he'd used, only that it caused the other Slytherin to abruptly drop to his knees with a look of astonishment, his arms suddenly pinioned behind his back. Automatically, he started to struggle, but it was as if invisible ropes bound him in place at Draco's feet.
Starting to panic, he looked towards Pansy and Blaise. "For fuck's sake, do something!"
Draco glanced at them as well, coolly, merely waiting to see if he would have any interruptions. When no one moved, he lost interest and turned back, gently using his wand to tilt the other boy's chin upwards until their eyes met. He saw the beginnings of an old fear shown there, eroding the arrogance he'd previously displayed.
"You're trying to replace me, Nott?" he asked lowly, tapping the wand lightly against the other's jaw. "I don't think you inspire quite the same loyalty." He gestured towards the three spectators, who looked on coldly.
The boy jerked against his bindings, turning his face away from the taunting contact with a snarl. "Fuck yourself, Malfoy"
Draco smirked, and it was a vicious expression. "Not remembered your place yet?" he asked mockingly, slowly lowering himself to a crouch until they were on eye level.
Without warning, he reached out and yanked down the Slytherin tie and flicked open the top few buttons of the boy's shirt.
"What the hell are you doing?" Nott screeched, trying to scramble backwards but failing utterly.
"Reminding you," Draco answered, simply.
He brandished his wand with a flourish, and his captive's eyes fixed on it with a look of terror so obvious that the blonde chuckled. Yes, he was perfectly capable of hurting the pathetic little wretch – and might even have done so, at another time or place – but to curse him and be done with would be too generous. Draco had found that the best method of punishment when it came to his housemates was not pain, but humiliation.
Harry watched in morbid fascination as the werewolf opened Nott's shirt to bare the patch of skin on the left side of his chest, and slowly touched the tip of his wand to the flesh while his victim practically hyperventilated. Nott struggled continuously, but Draco ignored him, his lips moving soundlessly in incantation.
For a moment, the Gryffindor worried that Draco was about to get himself in more trouble than ever with some Dark curse or other. He clenched his fist, sharing a troubled glance with Blaise, who appeared to be thinking along the same lines.
But even as Harry looked on, his mouth open to protest, Nott's efforts to break free suddenly ceased as he stared down at himself in shock. Dark lines of colour had begun to spread across his skin, forming a familiar handwriting that Harry recognised from the notes they'd once passed.
With its cursive loops and swirls, it read: In the service of D. Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin.
Harry gaped incredulously. Oh, he was not seeing this. Draco had not just tattooed his own name on the boy. He wasn't that stupid, surely...
The blonde examined his handiwork, seeming to muse over the wording for a moment, before briskly rising to his feet again, patting Nott's shoulder in a mockery of conciliation.
"What have you done...?" The boy's voice was faint with horror and disbelief as he looked down and shook his head.
"Just keeping you in your place," Draco answered innocently, absently twirling his wand between long, deft fingers. Even with his tangled hair and Quidditch clothes, he exuded superiority.
Then, leaning down, he lowered his voice and hissed in the other's ear, "I'm back in power, Nott. You'd do well to remember that."
He flicked his wand dismissively and the boy scrambled away from him, regaining his feet with difficulty and rubbing his wrists as if they'd been chaffed. He stared at Draco wordlessly, wide eyed and appalled, clutching his shirt collar closed to hide the writing branded on him from sight.
The blonde sneered. "Go," he ordered bluntly, and sidestepped as Nott hastened to escape, glaring resentfully at Draco as he passed, before taking off down the hall.
The werewolf watched him with a scornful expression before turning to regard his remaining companions. He eyed the two Slytherins warily, then glanced fleetingly at the Gryffindor, half expecting disapproval from him. But all three only looked stunned.
Finally, Harry was the one to break the silence. "'The Prince of Slytherin'?" he repeated sceptically. "I thought you didn't encourage that nickname?"
Draco shrugged as he moved back towards them, casually sliding his wand back inside his sleeve. "Never underestimate the power of a title, Potter. Those of us who haven't survived a Killing Curse have to make do with the name we make for ourselves. Unfortunately, mine just happens to be a little more pretentious than most."
The Gryffindor snorted. It amused him to hear Draco admit that.
Blaise coughed lightly, drawing the blonde's attention. "I do hope that wasn't a permanent spell," he uttered calmly, examining his nails with the attitude of someone accustomed to this kind of occurrence.
"It'll fade in a few weeks," Draco answered, with the same casualness. Harry rolled his eyes, exasperated with Slytherins in general. It was all a power play, he decided, and one without morals or manners.
"I trust you'll add the necessary embellishments to this little incident?" the blonde went on, glancing between the pair.
Pansy smiled – not the air-head flirt of a smile she tended towards, but one worthy of a Slytherin. "Of course, Draco darling. You expect any less?" She paused, and then added, "Not that we'll need to embellish all that much, with that little brand of yours."
And with that, she clasped Blaise's arm and dragged him off towards the dungeons, both of them nodding to Harry as they passed.
"What was that...?" the Gryffindor eventually asked, shaking his head.
"That was me getting my reputation back," Draco answered, stepping closer and regaining his look of thorough satisfaction. His broom had been left on the floor where he'd stood over Nott, but for the moment he was content to leave it there.
Harry blinked, surprised by the sudden close proximity. His back was to the wall, making him feel a bit trapped. Uncomfortable, he affected as nonchalant a pose as he could, folding his arms self-consciously. After watching the Slytherin re-establish his authority so efficiently and remorselessly, he felt more than a little taken aback. He'd forgotten what Draco could be like if provoked, foolish as the oversight was.
The wolf in him was growling happily over what it considered a successful take-down of an enemy, and the nearness of its mate, and he himself had been particularly impressed that the Gryffindor had kept his word and stayed out of things. The combination was intoxicating, making him forget any reservations he had.
"What are you doing...?" Harry asked quietly, voice almost deserting him.
Draco shook his head and admitted honestly, "I have no idea..." Hesitant, he flexed his fingers at his side, then reached out and brushed them quickly down the other boy's jumper. He looked down immediately afterwards and withdrew the touch, as if aware that the gesture wasn't something he should have allowed.
Harry watched the play of nerves on the blonde's face with fascination. Unthinking, he unfolded his arms and let them drop to his sides, removing the defence. It was obvious what the Slytherin thought he wanted, and though he found the uncharacteristic shyness endearing, Harry had to wonder if this was the best course of action. He looked around helplessly, almost hoping to see someone else approaching.
But there was no one besides themselves in or near the hallway, and the silence was growing excruciating.
"Look, Draco..."
At the sound of his name, Draco gave in. He stepped forward without thought, moving to rest his forehead against the Gryffindor's shoulder and his hands on the other boy's waist.
Harry froze, going tense all over at the unexpected full-body contact. His arms remained fixed at his sides, not daring to touch the Slytherin. "I thought you said –"
Draco didn't move. "I did. And I hate this." He turned his head, so that his breath ghosted over his companion's neck.
"Then don't –"
"Shut up, Harry," the werewolf said imperiously, and kissed him.