Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the Harry Potter Series. That right belongs solely to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I DO, however, own the plot, Oura (not her last name, again the literary goddess Rowling) and my favorite cat, Sterling.

Chapter 20

"So I hear that you were able to lure out a Teumessian kit."

Draco rolled his eyes. They were sitting in the Giving Room (Room of Requirement was a bit of a mouthful for him) waiting apprehensively for the sun to set. As it was, the last pale rays were bathing the room in a weak, receding light, although the fire, crackling merrily, more than made up for it. Oura had left the Great Hall halfway through dinner and Draco had followed a few minutes later with a muttered excuse to Blaise, who would pass it on to the others. There had been a lot more people watching him leave than normal. Somehow, his affinity with the foxes had spread like Fiendfire, as most rumours seemed to do at Hogwarts. Some people had no self control when it came to gossip, namely Pansy and her Gryffindork counterpart, was it Lilac? Regardless, everyone now was under the impression that he was an animal person. He shuddered slightly. It wasn't his fault that the cub had mistaken him for its mother. Outside, the wind blew a gust of soft snow across the window, the flakes catching the dying sun, refracting it gently. Draco shook himself out of his remembrance and turned to Oura from his languid position that took up an entire couch. He huffed.

"I did nothing. The half-witted thing came up to me. How it didn't see that the others were trying to put one in a pen is beyond me."

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "The others? You weren't?"

"Like I would do anything that oaf told us to do in his so-called 'class'. Likely to get us killed with half the stuff he throws at us." He growled at her indignantly.

The redhead grinned at him, "You're just upset that having an affinity with animals is ruining your reputation."

Pursing his lips with narrowed eyes, Draco got up and turned away from her to watch the sky darkened, unease settling uncomfortably in his chest. Almost as though sensing the change in mood, the fire started to sputter out quietly, wrapping the room in silver shadows. Behind him, Oura rose and glided forward on silent feet to stand next to him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked almost regal in the subtle illumination, the light of various stars enunciating her features. But as he watched, she started to deteriorate, little by little.

"I can feel it, you know." He turned towards her fully, cocking an eyebrow and silently asking her to continue. "Every inch that rises above the horizon, it starts to drain me, as though it's taking my energy and to give it to her children. The wolves in France call her Mère Lune, the Mother Moon. They're actually respected there. The Ministère identified lycanthropy as a national issue and the Guilde mass produces Wolfsbane every month. The wolves have their own reserve so that they can have freedom when they transform, too. They even have equal-"

She gasped softly and suddenly sank to the floor. Draco quickly dropped down next to her, worried. The moonlight hadn't hit her, yet. What was happening? Was she okay? Did something go wrong? Was this normal? The redhead smiled up at him weakly.

"I'm fine," She reassured him hoarsely, making to get up. "The moon just broke over the horizon."

Helping Oura to her feet, the blonde led her to the couches. He sat her down before speaking. "Are you sure that the drapes won't help?" The Ravenclaw simply shook her head. She had explained earlier that only natural occurrences, like clouds or a lunar eclipse, could prevent the reaction. The only reason that the stones of the castle helped to slow the reaction was because of the elemental magic that had cut and shaped the stones. Helga Hufflepuff was said to be one of the few witches who could control Nature in such a way. Even the windows were made from pure elements and gave almost equal protection, one of the reasons that Oura rejected the idea of removing the windows entirely. The others remained a mystery to Draco, but he hadn't pushed. If she wanted to tell him, she would do so eventually.

They sat back down on the couch, silent for a bit, waiting for the inevitable to come. Oura began to shiver. Finally noticing that the fire had gone out, Draco stood to coax it back into a cheerful blaze. When he turned back around, he found the tired redhead wrapped in a heavy blanket, asleep. He smiled softly at the picture she made, peaceful and secluded from the harsh reality of wakefulness. Sighing, he picked her up gently and placed her on the bed that stubbornly remained each time they entered the room, tucking the sheets tightly around her. He watched helplessly as the moonlight started to inch forward into the room and over the bed. Oura whimpered in her sleep, shivering, curled in a small ball, as though trying to protect herself from some invisible enemy. Trying to make her more comfortable, he added another log to the fire, the heat almost becoming unbearable for him. The redhead sighed softly, almost content, but still afflicted by the tremors.

I need something to make her more comfortable, he thought absently, wishing he could do more for her. Suddenly, the chair he had collapsed into, exhausted, disappeared. Getting up as gracefully as one could after falling on one's arse unexpectedly, Draco glared at the spot that formerly held his chair.

"Seriously?" He muttered under his breath. Shaking his head he trudged over to one of the couches (which was uncomfortably close to the raging fire), he made to relax upon it, before it popped out of existence as well. He stared at the rug for a second before he fully comprehended that it had gone. Grumbling about idiotic rooms that wouldn't work correctly for him, the blonde made his way over to the counter, praying that he would be able to rest his feet.

The world seemed to spin on axis and, stumbling forward, Draco's hand flew out, steadying himself with… the bedpost? Breathing heavily, he regained his bearings and looked around. The counter had disappeared as did everything else in the room, save the fireplace and the bed on which he was leaning. Defeated, he sunk down on the soft mattress, relieved that it didn't fly out from under him. By now, with the heat of the room, coupled with his exertion, his shirt was soaked, so, exhausted as he was, Draco pulled it off and laid down. He would just rest for a minute, then he would read some more of the books that the Giving Room would provide. Just a minute...

Oura squirmed uncomfortably in her sleep and curled into the warm mass behind her, snuffling contently, falling into a deeper sleep than she had since she was 11. The first time.