A/n: Holy crap, guys. There are so many of you that have been reading this story! I appreciate this so much. Just so you know, if you post a suggestion or an idea or something I may include it. I have this habit of not planning stories, so I don't even know where this is going. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Don't forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review!
I never really liked my name much until I found out what it tastes like when you sigh it into my mouth
It was so fucking bright. What the fuck was that godforsaken light that dared to shine so fucking brightly in his eyes on a morning like this? Draco groaned. His cheek was stuck to a table in the back corner of the library, a pool of drool next to where his mouth had been. He refused to open his eyes; it was like he was on the surface of the fucking sun. He sat up, shielding his face from the hell-fire that must have been burning right next to him, and immediately felt overwhelmed by a crippling wave of nausea. He laid his head back down. His neck was stiff and sore from being in the same damn position for eight or more hours. He didn't even know what time it was.
Draco finally mustered the courage to open his eyes and stand up. Doing so was a mistake, though, as he immediately almost toppled right into a bookshelf. He moved quietly out of the library, curious to why the fuck he was in the library in the first place, as the last thing he remembered was drinking with Pansy and Blaise in the Slytherin common room the night before. Apparently, and obviously, he had gotten ridiculously wasted – enough so that he didn't remember anything from the previous night and had a massive hangover. Of course it was just his luck, too, that the sun seemed to be shining like it was literally 2 feet away from him.
He grimaced, walking into the Great Hall. He probably looked like shit, but he felt even shittier, so what did it matter how he looked. Sitting down in his usual spot, Draco dragged the greasiest food he could manage to reach and started piling it on his plate. He needed to soak up any remaining alcohol in his system and give his stomach something to hold on to for dear life.
Pansy and Blaise both came in at the same time a few minutes later. They saw Draco and sat down, both looking like they were in the same boat he was.
"Well, well." Pansy started. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Har har." Draco deadpanned, sipping a mug of hot tea carefully so as not to burn his tongue or his lips.
"So where did you get to last night?" Blaise asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee.
"Apparently the library, for some reason."
"Yeah, some reason." Pansy nodded toward him while she broke a piece of bacon in half and shoved part of it in her mouth. "Looks like you got some last night." She winked. "Who with?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Ohhh, I see it, I see it." Blaise said, spreading jam on a piece of toast and smirking.
"See what? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Oh, honey." Pansy transfigured one of the goblets from the empty seat next to her into a mirror and handed it to Draco.
He looked at his face, noting the heavy bags under his eyes and the grey tinge that seemed to never go away, and then he saw what they had been laughing at. On the side of his neck there was a bruise that looked like a hickey. He touched it carefully.
"So, who gave that to you?"
Draco was very confused. "I have no idea. I really don't."
"Well it wasn't there yesterday." Pansy poured salt on her eggs.
"No, it most certainly wasn't." He frowned.
A few minutes later Snape came by handing out class schedules. He leaned down next to Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy, please come see me after your last class today."
Draco nodded, shoving a bit of toast into his mouth.
"Ooooh is someone in trouble?" Pansy smirked.
Draco made a face at her. "If I go down, I'm taking you all down with me."
"Wouldn't that be something?" Blaise mused, dumping a load of sugar into his mug.
After lunch Draco had double potions in the dungeon with the Gryffindors. It's easy to say that it was basically hell on earth. Being anywhere near the "golden trio" gave him a headache. He kept his head down, focusing on the potion they were brewing that day. It wasn't overly complicated, just something to get them warmed up and see what they could do. Harry Potter seemed to be having too easy of a time brewing his, Draco could see when he glanced over for a minute. He caught sight of Hermione Granger and he felt his heart speed up. His face flushed a little bit and his heart beat a little faster. He attributed this to his hatred for the mudblood, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind.
At the end of class professor Slughorn tested everyone's potions. He gave Draco a passing grade, giving him a slight smile. Granger got an above average mark, earning a grin and a "well done" from the fat old man. The most surprising thing was the Potter hadn't managed to melt his cauldron or melt a hole in the floor. In fact, Slughorn gave him the highest mark of the day, praising him for at least five minutes. Draco had had enough. He rolled his eyes as far back into his skull as was humanly possible and was relieved when the bell sounded for class to be let out.
Potions was his last class of the day, so he trudged through the dungeons to Snape's office. He knocked, and Snape bade him enter.
The dungeon office was surprisingly warm and would have been almost cheery, if it hadn't been for all of the nasty, slimy, writhing things in jars on shelves that lined the walls. Snape sat at his desk, bent over a roll of parchment. He continued to scrawl on it for a minute, then put the quill down and looked at Draco.
"I have spoken with the Dark Lord."
Draco shifted uncomfortably. "And?"
"You are not allowed Wolfsbane. At least for a few months, until you can prove that you are committed to working for him."
"Have I not already proved myself? I am not my father."
"No, you are not. You're weaker than him."
Draco frowned. "Weak how?"
"The Dark Lord is not sure that you can be trusted to do everything he asks you to. You're too smart, too much like him. You're too easily swayed. The Dark Lord does not believe that you are loyal to him. He believes that given any small push, you may abandon the cause."
"And do what? Fight for mudbloods? Squibs? They disgust me."
"He is not so sure."
"Well, I am."
"That means nothing in the opinion of the Dark Lord."
"For god's sake." Draco slammed his fist down on the table. "Does he not know how painful this is? How much this puts everyone and me in danger?"
"Of course he does. You are being punished. Your wellbeing means nothing to him, the more you suffer, the better, really. You are a pawn. He can find other pawns; you are simply the most… convenient."
"Then why should I even try? If I am so easily replaced?"
"Because if you don't, he will kill you. And it is much better to be a living wolf than a dead one."
He sat on the common room couch, twirling a quill between his fingers and staring into the fire. Draco was very confused and very frustrated. How had he gotten a hickey? From whom had he gotten a hickey? And why the fuck did he have to suffer a memory blackout now? He also had other thoughts on his mind. What was he going to do when he transformed? It was less than a week away and he still had no ideas. He needed to keep himself safe, because other students be damned, if he went full werewolf in Hogwarts, he'd be fucked. He decided to go for a walk.
He wandered up every floor, taking hours and hours until it finally got dark outside. He had missed dinner, and his stomach was growling. He was on the seventh floor when he decided to go to the room of requirement to check on his… project. He passed by the room three times, just like he had been instructed to do, thinking hard on what he needed, but he kept getting distracted. Finally, the door appeared. He pushed it open, but the room was not how he expected it to be. Instead of a massive labyrinth of stacked boxes, old furniture, and piles upon piles of things that nobody wanted anymore, it was a very cozy study, lined with shelves and multiple fireplaces. There was a large bed in one corner, a small bathroom in another, and in the very back left corner, what looked to be a cell.
Draco walked in further, examining the books on the shelf closest to him, there was a roaring fire burning in one of the stone fireplaces, a plush couch in front of it. The books had strange titles, some of them in Latin, but they all seemed to share the same topic – werewolves. He plucked one off the shelf and flipped it open.
The werewolf is one of the most dangerous creatures known to man. Their history began in Ancient Egypt over four thousand years ago. The exact history of the werewolf is uncertain, but it is said that an ancient wizard, a priest of the Egyptian gods, put a curse on one of his brothers for betraying him and his gods. The curse – turning into a massive wolf one night of the year ever full moon – would spread to all of his children and his children's children, to curse the entirety of his line forever. Not only would this curse fall on his line, but anyone who had been bitten whilst he was in his wolf form. The obvious solution would have been to stop the lineage right there (or not bite anybody, but as werewolves cannot control themselves while they are in their wolf form, and are therefore subject to their animal instincts, this is virtually impossible.), but unbeknownst to the first wolf, he was destined to imprint on a female to procreate. Imprinting caused the wolf to fall in love with his soul mate. This love was infallible, the true meaning of soul mate. The two would be unable to separate once they had shared an intimate and personal moment, such as kissing or any sort of sexual touching. Another obvious solution would be to refrain from physical contact with any female; however, the wizard had created a failsafe for this, too. The wolf would emit pheromones that were only potent to his soul mate. Any other female would just be able to easily ignore the impulse, but the soul mate would be unable to ignore it. It would be a compulsion so strong that she would have no choice. The only known "cure" (it isn't a cure, really, it is actually a pheromone blocker to prevent the male from emitting them) is the Wolfsbane potion.
Draco's heart skipped a beat as he read the page. He had no idea where or who he had been with the night before. And Snape had already denied him a Wolfsbane potion. His life was becoming increasingly more complicated, and he didn't know what to do. He could feel a panic attack coming. He could feel it welling up in the walls of his soul, threatening to spill over. He could feel it bubbling and frothing, tears threatening to escape from his eyes. He tore the page out of the book, stuffing it into his pocket, and sat on the floor.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to imagine a calming place, trying to imagine calming smells and soothing thoughts. An overwhelming smell of lavender and rain assaulted his nose, grounding him. He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled a blanket off of the leather couch that was sitting in front of the fireplace, wrapping it around him. He fell asleep that way, his head pounding from his hangover, his heart pounding from his panic.
Sometime around one AM or so, he woke up. The moon was shining through one of the large windows. He sighed, standing up and stretching, cracking all of the joints in his back. Draco wandered to the other side of the room, where the strange cell sat. He touched the bars, they seemed to be made of an ordinary metal, but they felt stronger somehow. Sturdier. He pulled out his wand, performing a basic identifying spell on them, to find out that they were in fact made out of iron. He then cast another spell to see if there were any sort of magical properties about them. There were. The bars were layered with multiple wards. However, they weren't designed to keep people out, but designed to keep something else in. He had been suspicious at this point, sure that the room had somehow sensed his problem and had come up for a solution to it, but now he was sure. This was what he needed. This was a place that he could transform.
A wave of relief washed over him as he walked back down to the dungeons. On his way, he happened to pass by the library, only to see a light coming from inside. Curious, he pushed open the door and followed the source back to a table that was nestled between a few shelves and a wall, so it was almost hidden. He vaguely remembered that this was usually his favorite spot to be. Much to his disgust, however, Draco found his space to be occupied by none other than Hermione Granger.
She looked up as she heard him approach.
"You, again." She said, closing her book, blushing.
"What do you mean me again?" He hissed, annoyed.
"You don't… remember?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Last night you came here, I was here…" she trailed off. "You really don't remember?"
He inhaled sharply, angry now, and then he caught her scent. Lavender and raindrops. He froze. "Oh fuck no."
She sighed. Shifting some papers around.
"You?" He hissed quietly, repulsed.
"Unfortunately." She frowned. "I thought it was just because you were drunk."
"Well of course, although I thought even drunk me had better sense than that. Disgusting." He felt like he was going to throw up. "What happened? Did I kiss you?" He ground his teeth together, trying to keep the rising bile in his throat from reaching his mouth.
"You did a lot more than that, Malfoy."
He retched. "Gods. I can't believe I would ever think of putting myself near anything as vile and revolting as you."
"Well," she said, gathering her things, "That certainly isn't how you felt last night."
A/n: What did you think? Like it? Hate it? Review it! Don't forget to Favorite and Follow, too! If you'd like to follow my tumblr the URL is slytherinsnitches. Thank you for reading!