Disclaimer: Nothing is for me!
Warnings: Nada.
Authors note: So there are parts where it's vague as to what's going on. My reasoning was the following: I wrote the scene in more detail, but it just doesn't seem like something that independent, strong willed Draco would actually care about, so I rewrote it to be vague, and sort of felt that it was more true to the character, but I have mixed feelings. Angst, angst, angst. Anyways, Enjoy!
Draco lounged casually on the steps of the manor, waiting. Finally, Potter showed up, as usual dressed like one of the homeless hags that begged on Knockturn alley. Draco bit his tongue, and made no comment, only nodding slightly in greeting, and turning to walk down the winding path, to head out. They were going to a pub in wales, to meet with a werewolf Potter knew and Potter had insisted that he absolutely had to come, had to be there for it. Rather than bother with fighting with him like Granger had, waving her arms in panic, he had just shrugged. Let boy wonder do whatever he wanted, was how Draco saw it.
Draco pulled the hood up on his muggle sweat shirt, handing the extra one he had brought to Potter. The boy took it hesitantly, frowning at it. "Uh, thanks Malfoy, but I'm not cold."
"To cover your ugly hair and your scar, you idiot so we don't get murdered by a hair stylist, or a death eater."
Potter looked annoyed, but stripped off his lumpy knit sweater and took the dark muggle sweat shirt, putting it on, hesitating for a moment, then pulling the hood up to match Draco's. Once they were out of the wards, Potter reached out, and gripped Draco's wrist firmly, screwing up his face in anticipation of the twist and squeeze that was aparition. Draco winced at Potter's firm grip, but drew his wand and away they went.
They stumbled, landing in field, the tall, dry yellow plants were waist high, and Draco nearly toppled over, the soft dirt giving under his feet. He looked around, slightly confused, squinting, seeing the lights of a town in the distance. Luckily it was dark, because the middle of a field was hardly a subtle place to apparate to and avoid being detected by muggles.
Potter released Draco, and staggered slightly, before regaining his balance, trudging after Draco.
"You couldn't get us any closer to the pub?" Potters voice had a slight whine.
"Look, Potter, if you want to do the apparating, you can get us home. Oh wait. You don't know how to apparate well enough to go places you don't know. How sad for you," said Draco, rolling his eyes, but his tone was amiable enough.
Potter muttered something under his breath that Draco didn't catch, but the other boy didn't actually look that annoyed. Draco found a weird comfort in their banter, the normalcy made everything else a little easier to accept.
They approached the town in a comfortable silence, and the dingy wooden sign on the first building, on the outskirt of the town pronouncing the small wooden building as their destination, The Last Knight. They ducked in, keeping their heads down, faces covered, and slipped to a back table, a wall at their backs where they could wait. Draco had insisted they show up almost an hour early, so that there wouldn't be any surprises, and though Potter had initially complained, in the end, they were still here an hour before 10, the designated meeting time.
A pretty girl with thin lips cam up to them, a friendly smile on her face, a pad of paper on her hip. "Evening, gents, can I get you anything?" Her voice seemed loud in the quiet pub, her bubbly personality spilling over into her every motion.
Potter just shook his head, but Draco smiled smugly, he'd had Styx prepare him for this. "A coke-a-cola please, the largest you have."
Potter looked up in surprise and snorted, rolling his eyes when the girl smiled and jotted it down. "You've got it, a water and a coke."
The moment she was gone, Potter turned to Draco, speaking softly so a muggle sitting alone three tables over wouldn't over hear them. "How do you even know what coke is?"
"I am well versed in the muggle, it is an intriguing culture and creature that I've been striving to understand," said Draco loftily, ignoring Potter's snicker. The waitress returned with a thin, shiny cup, larger than any in the wizarding world, and a straw and a cup of water for Potter, and told them brightly if they needed anything to yell for her.
"The muggle isn't a creature, Malfoy," Potter offered after a moment, while Draco closed his eyes and let the bubbles make the roof of his mouth feel funny in the best way.
"The muggle is indeed a creature, and an exotic one that makes delicious drinks," said Draco calmly, discarding his straw on the table, and sipping the sickly sweet, delicious liquid straight from the cup.
Potter rolled his eyes and leaned back, tipping his chair backwards to balance on its two hind legs, "You are so weird. You do know caffeine doesn't count as a food group, right?"
"That's what everyone keeps telling me, but I don't believe any of you."
They lounged in a comfortable silence, Draco wriggling happily in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table, as the carbonated beverage made his nose tickle, and his nerves sing. He looked up once he was done with his drink, and noticed that Potter was staring at him, looking surprised.
"What?" asked Draco huffily, stopping his wiggling, trying to sit still, but failing as his leg started bouncing.
"I don't know, I guess I never noticed you're a real person," said Potter, shrugging. Draco just stared at him, not bothering to grace that with an answer. Potter flushed slightly, and continued, "Well, like I know you're a person, not like that, but I always thought maybe you were too well polished to fidget, and drink soda, and wear muggle clothes, it's sort of weird."
Draco looked morosely at Potter, over exaggerating his dejection, as he sighed. "I know, I was once a high prince of society, but, oh how this gypsy life style ahs ruined me for high society, I am almost a commoner these days, barely able to execute a waltz, hardly qualified to select a decent wine."
"Oh haha, welcome to the plebian lifestyle. And you're too young for wine."
"Oh sorry mother, I forgot that I am every so good at obeying rules," replied Draco easily, rolling his eyes. Potter laughed, and they basked in the silence, oddly comfortable, waiting for Potter's associates.
"You know, you could call me Harry, if you wanted," Potter said suddenly.
"Why?"
"Well. We'll be working together. Right? So. I don't know."
Draco narrowed his eyes at Potter, speculatively. "I suppose you could call me Draco," he conceded slowly. "Though if this whole thing is a ploy to get into my pants, be warned, you are not the first to try to start a war with a nose-less freak to get my attention, so you might want to be more original."
Potter made a muffled, spluttering sound, the mouthful of water he'd just taken bursting from his mouth, leaking over him, as he coughed, cheeks red. Draco laughed maniacally watching in glee as Potter grabbed a napkin, mopping up his shirt and chin.
"You've obviously had way too much soda Draco, maybe we should cut you off," Potter said, pulling the cup away from Draco, so that the overly helpful waitress wouldn't be tempted to give him anymore.
Draco rolled his eyes, pouting slightly, but before his sulking could really progress, Potter's face sobered, fixed on the door way. Draco turned, seeing three figures headed towards them; Lupin, and older werewolf and ex-professor from third year, Draco's crazy cousin Nymphandora, and a thin, tall dark man, with a powerful brow and broad shoulders.
The three pulled up their chairs, and sat, politely declining anything from the friendly waitress, who came over, snagging Draco's cup for a refill before Potter could stop her. Draco stifled the urge to cackle, and settled for just looking smug.
Potter anxiously asked about the old headmaster, and Lupin and the tall man, who introduced himself as Kingsley Shacklebolt (by far, the best name ever, Draco decided), promised Potter the old man was doing well. They talked about people Draco didn't know, or had no interest in for a while, and he took the opportunity to drink most of his fifth cup full of soda.
He shifted uncomfortably, aware suddenly of the other werewolf's gaze on him. He knew the older wolf didn't approve of Draco, not fully, not like he approved of Potter, and even Pan. But the other wolf had never been even a little cruel, though his gaze made Draco's skin prickle slightly at the sheer intensity of it.
Draco's cousin nudged Lupin and Lupin turned back to the conversation, his odd, curious gaze finally lifting from Draco. Draco shivered slightly, feeling uncomfortable around these strange people, he had become used to only interacting in his odd little run away family, and with non-wizards, and this was making him feel a bit on edge.
But before long, he was sucked into the conversation. They discussed some of the wolves, how Lupin might be able to get them out, and send them in Draco's direction, they decided on a place to send them, where Draco and his kids could pick them up, to eliminate or try to eliminate the chances that Voldemort might follow them. Shacklebolt wanted Draco and Potter and their group to tell them where they were hiding out, and to try to work under their group, the Order of the Phoenix, but to Draco's surprise, before he or Potter could protest, Lupin calmly told his comrade off.
"We have to let them hide away so that they won't be compromised, what if we are caught, and we have to let them be free to break the law, to do what they can. You and I, we are old men, we have to follow the rules, but it'd be best to let them run wild."
Lupins voice was tired, but his words were passionate enough, and it was in that moment that Draco decided no matter how much the other man disapproved of the current ways of werewolves, and hated his own kind, he was a man to be respected.
Draco tuned out, too energetic, and twitchy to want to take part in this. He knew he was being childish, but he didn't like feeling like a child seeking parents approval again, when he'd been up to his own devices for months now. Finally, the three adults rose to their feet, hugging Potter, and nodding to Draco who was rocking back on his chair, feeling like he needed to run, or kill something, or do something other than sit quietly in a pub listening to old people tell him what to do.
As soon at the others were gone, Draco scrambled to his feet, and walked out as calmly as he could manage. The moment he was out, he ducked into an alley, and bolted, running, and shifting, his paws landing at a brisk run. He could hear Potters heart beat, steady and strong somewhere behind him, and Draco skidded, turning sharply, running towards Potter, his wolves teeth bared. Potter slowed to a halt, and held up his hands, breathing hard.
Draco shifted back, his adrenaline pumping, his heart beating quickly, and without hesitation he threw himself back onto the long grass in the field, flopping down, his breath coming in sharp pants.
"How come you don't like Lupin?" asked Potter, sitting beside Draco, leaning back on his hands.
"He doesn't like me."
"Draco, I don't think he knows how to dislike people."
"It's complicated. A werewolf thing."
Potter didn't respond, just turned his head to meet Draco's gaze, pursing his lips slightly.
"Oh fine," relented Draco. "He doesn't like this new, embrace your wolf mentality that some packs are trying, and I think he resents it, because he's and old guy who hates what he is, and hates himself. Don't get me wrong, I wish sometimes things had happened differently, but I can't change anything, and I've never been one to hate myself. But Lupin hates what he is, he hates what he turns into, and he doesn't approve of trying to control ourselves without wolfsbane. I don't know, he's just an old timer."
"But you can turn into a wolf when its not a full moon. Wouldn't he want that?" Potter sounded genuinely curious, in this moment reminding Draco briefly of Nemisis when she'd found out what he was. Earnest, curious, well meaning, and not scared or disgusted in the least.
"That's just me, he wouldn't be able to do that even if he wasn't already addicted to the wolfsbane."
Potter furrowed his brow, "How?"
"When I was turned, my dad tried to make them fix me. Voldemort promised him he'd try, but instead, he did a bunch of testing and things, and basically they injected me with every magical being they could get their hands on and I almost died, but I'm not really normal since then, you know? Just your average, medical experiment gone wrong."
Potter sat beside him quietly, digesting the information, while Draco tipped his head back, looking up at the stars, searching idly for the stars for which he and his mum were named. The cold air was starting to nip at him through his clothes, and he eventually sat up.
"Come on, lets go."
"Draco?"
"Yes, Potter?"
"Can I see what they- what he did to your back?"
Draco hesitated for a moment. "It wasn't Voldemort, it was one of his new ministry witches, a horrid little troll of a woman," he said, relenting. He turned, pulling his shirt up to reveal the ugly, reddish brand scar across his shoulders that read W0001. W for werewolf, marked like an animal. But, Draco supposed, he was actually an animal, so maybe it was relevant. He shivered, feeling Potters heavy gaze, and let his shirt drop.
"Come on Potter, stop trying to get my clothes off and let's go."
Potter flushed and got to his feet glaring at Draco, gripping his arm harder than necessary. "Oh shut up and take me home, Draco, before I kill you," he muttered, rolling his eyes, but a small smile was curling on his lips, and Draco snickered, pulling out his wand to take them home. He felt like the evening hadn't been a complete bust, despite his reservations on Potter's adult cronies and their urges to control them. Also, maybe Potter wasn't awful to spend time with, when he wasn't trying to beat Draco's face in with the nearest 300 Weasleys.