Hermione had been having the most wonderful sleep. Her dreams, fading from memory too quickly to remember the details of as she began to wake, had been warm and comforting. Starkly different from the nightmares she'd become accustomed to. Feelings far different than the pain she'd felt before.
Consciousness returning, Hermione tensed slightly. She was still in Malfoy's den, the morning sun was streaking in through the far entrance, bathing the room in golden light. It dawned on her that she had slept all night. Slept when she should have been writhing in pain as the Skelegro continued to work on her leg. Pain, she realized, that she no longer had.
She threw back the quilt and let out a scream.
Beside her, the pile of blankets rustled as something struggled beneath it until out popped a concerned wolf, white ears sticking straight up. Hermione jumped, startled again, though she could scarcely move her lower half.
"Malfoy," she cried, "you scared me!"
When had he gotten in bed? The wolf pawed the blankets once more, fully extracting himself before sitting on the bottom corner of the mattress. He transformed, his limbs and face shifting in one fluid motion. For as many times she had seen him shift, it was still a strange thing to watch, and Hermione doubted she'd ever get used to him doing so up close.
But nothing could be stranger than what had happened to Hermione's leg overnight. The two sat in silence, neither of them able to speak as they stared at the sight before them.
Roots had grown out of the floor, reaching upwards and even through the middle of the mattress, where they coalesced in tight coils around Hermione's lower leg. Her brace was gone, its pieces discarded on the floor. Instead, her calf was supported by the strong roots. They felt surprisingly soft against her skin and emitted a soothing warmth.
Her shin was starting to look formed again, evidence that her bones were still growing. She took stock of her body, curious at the slight tickling sensation she could discern if she focused solely on it. It was shocking to be suddenly relieved of her pain.
Terrified by what was happening, she gave Malfoy an accusatory look. "What kind of magic is this?"
He looked equally as confused but less frightened. "Don't look at me! I've been asleep, same as you!"
Hermione's voice hitched in her throat, "What's happening?"
Her chest was tight. Every point where the roots touched her skin was hypersensitive. She tried to pull away, but the coils merely tightened and resisted, holding her firmly in place. She tried twisting this way and that, but nothing would loosen its hold on her. Malfoy had stood, eyes wide and staring at her leg.
"Draco," she cried, fearful and desperate, "help me!"
At the sound of his name, his attention fell back on Hermione, cool eyes chilling her. He came closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I need you to calm down," he asserted, calm yet firm.
Her eyes searched his face for reassurance but found none. He looked to be contemplating something, frowning as he did so. He ran a timorous finger along the roots. Hermione hoped he would try and remove them, but Malfoy dropped his hand.
Perhaps this was a part of his plan to get rid of her, a page taken from the book of Centaurs he seemed so comfortable stealing from. She wasn't as sacred or magical as a unicorn fetus, but perhaps the wood was going to take her in sacrifice instead. It was years of paranoia and a good dose of PTSD causing her to jump to extreme conclusions, but one thing was certain: Hermione Granger would not go down without a fight.
The walnut handle of her wand was visible against Malfoy's side, tucked into the waist of his pants. He was close enough to touch and distracted as he examined the new growth of roots. Hermione took the opportunity presented to her like any Gryffindor would.
Her hand wrapped around the wand's hilt, her magical core singing at the reunion with its instrument. Hermione withdrew the wand, ready to spout off the first spell that came to mind to get the damned roots off her. She aimed, and opened her mouth, but was squashed by Malfoy, quick to notice the wand missing against his side.
His weight was crushing. Strong hands fumbled for hold of her wrists. "Give it back, Granger," he grunted, mouth next to her ear.
"Get off me!" Hermione commanded, trying to twist her wand away from his grasp, but it only gave him better access to her forearm, which Malfoy clamped onto like a vice. It took only seconds after that for the walnut to be apart from her once more. Her core shuddered at the absence.
Malfoy was triumphant. At some point during their scuffle, he had straddled her. He sat back on his heels now, his strong legs keeping most of his weight off her. The look he gave her burned. Hermione's cheeks flamed.
"Are you crazy?" He panted, "What? You were going to blast it off?"
"I don't know what I was going to do," Hermione snapped. "I thought maybe a flame would make it pull back and—"
Malfoy scoffed. "Please tell me you aren't actually so idiotic as to set it on fire and you with it. Also, in case you haven't noticed, we're under a bloody tree, y'know, made of wood that would easily burn."
He dismounted, settling on the edge of the bed at her side. He mumbled something about, "Bet nobody pops in and sets fire to your home."
"I'm scared, okay?" Despite her best efforts, tears had formed in her lashes, betraying her Gryffindor courage by sliding down her cheeks. "My leg is growing back without me feeling a damn thing and some," she gesticulated wildly at the leg that was wrapped up in vines, "magical plant has me in its clutches!"
Malfoy stood and hurried into the kitchen. Once at the table, he shuffled through the parchments she surmised were healing notes, muttering to himself. After rifling through them, he moved on to a few of the texts. He flicked through pages rampantly, tossing books aside when he couldn't find what he was looking for until finally, he stilled.
Hermione watched as he extracted a crumpled sheet of parchment, his finger poking angrily at a spot on the page. He spared her one curious glance, shot over his shoulder when he thought she wasn't looking. After looking over a few more pages, his head fell back with a sigh before he closed the book with a loud snap!
"Malfoy?" Hermione asked with trepidation.
The look on his face was solemn. His approach to her side was slow. A hand reached out and brushed the length of the main root that protruded from the floor. Hermione's leg warmed in kind as if Malfoy's touch had been passed along to her by the root system.
Tentative fingers traced around the roots, carefully searching for what Hermione didn't know. He found the end of her bone, still not yet at the halfway point, but getting there. The growth was slow, indiscernible when watched, but if you forgot about it for a few minutes, you'd look to see it had grown when you weren't watching.
Malfoy reached through the roots, slipping his hand between Hermione and the Forest. The coils slacked to allow him, but with the loss of contact came a wave of pain that made Hermione scream. Malfoy jerked back, withdrawing his hand, which was quickly replaced by the supportive plant once more. A soothing warmth combatted the pain but left Hermione panting.
"It's the forest," Malfoy whispered, face slack with disbelief, "it's healing you."
Hermione wouldn't have believed him — shouldn't have believed that the Forbidden Forest was a sentient being capable of magic, let alone enough magic to heal her. Malfoy couldn't lie, the blood oath made sure of that, but even if she could only take his word at face value, what he said would have been irrefutable. There was no other way to explain this.
"Incredible," he breathed, marveling at the sight.
If she concentrated, she could feel it, the hum of healing magic reverberating around them. Its signature was warm and comforting, like a mother's embrace. Hermione was scared, but also desperate for her leg to regrow. Ridiculous as it was, if the Skelegro weren't capable of finishing the job, why not have a magical forest take care of it instead?
Stranger things in magic existed and Hermione had experienced many of them. Things always turned out fine then and Malfoy wasn't going to let anything worse happen to her. Still, she was worried.
"Is it safe?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know."
Though she was starting to feel guilty for taking advantage of the magical oath between them when probing for answers, Hermione couldn't help herself from asking, "How can you be sure that it's the forest healing me?"
"Let me check something," Malfoy murmured before he took on his animagus form.
The white wolf sniffed curiously at the spot in the ground where the roots sprung up, following the appendage all the way to Hermione's ankle. There, he smelled up the length of her leg. Curiously, one tiny root moved from Hermione's leg, reaching out to scratch the wolf under his chin. At the contact, the wolf jumped back against the wall, and his human form came tumbling out at the impact.
He staggered to the chair at her bedside, wriggling as if insects crawled over his skin. Malfoy clawed at himself until he ripped his shirt open, sending its buttons flying in all directions. The shirt was the next item to go whizzing through the air, though thrown across the room was a more accurate description.
"It's definitely her," he confirmed whilst itching himself. "She likes wolves."
She fixed him with a hardened stare. "How do you know that?"
He'd taken to itching his chin, hands raking through the thick tangles of his beard. "There were things Regulus taught me before…"
Hermione didn't press Malfoy to finish the sentence for she knew where it led: the death of someone he had considered a brother. She offered him the glass of water from the bedside table. He chugged it in one tilt of the glass.
He let out a deep breath after swallowing. "But some things I still don't understand. I've tried to find answers over the years, but without Regulus to guide me, I've come up short. All I know is that she healed me once. You should be grateful she took pity on you."
"I am," she said, eyes falling to her leg.
Without the benevolent wood, she would be missing half her leg – healers might not have been able to put it back. Hermione could only hope that the sentient ecosystem was intelligent enough to heal her correctly. If something went wrong, would Draco be able to fix it?
Her thoughts were agony, as she was powerless to do anything but be subject to the forces of nature and the whims of Draco Malfoy.
Worrying, however, was often a waste of time. What she needed was a distraction. So, she sought information instead.
"What else did Regulus teach you?"
Hidden Under a Bush Outside the Centaurian Village, The Forbidden Forest, May 2000
Watch, Silver, the voice of Regulus floated through his head.
Draco looked over to see what Regulus was referring to. It was the Centaurian patrol, making their periodic sweep of the perimeter of their communal structures, including the storehouse and garden. The Centaurs trotted by, oblivious to the two wolves hunkered down under a thicket of foliage, watching.
It was a part of Draco's lessons — the ones he never agreed to take. Regulus, as it turned out, was adamant that if Draco was going to live here, he would learn the ways of the forest. The Dark Wood — its true name, Draco learned, and so help him, if he ever slipped up he would be subject to all types of punishment by Regulus's hand — was far more expansive and intricate than Draco had ever imagined. There was so much to learn.
Today he was learning how to coexist with the Centaurs; an area he struggled in tremendously. Regulus knew that Draco had maimed a foal. There had been no repercussions for the event thus far. If it had been over a year already, Draco wondered if they would ever come. It was better than he deserved.
The guard won't come by for another hour, Regulus projected into Draco's mind, as soon as the sun dips below the treeline, it's time to go shopping.
The fear of getting caught, and facing subsequent retribution, had him stuck in place under the cover of branches, giving Regulus a shake of his head. No.
It's alright, lad. They aren't going to hurt you.
Draco gave him a contemptuous look, portraying that he didn't believe what Regulus had to say. Try as he might, Draco couldn't push his own thoughts into Regulus's mind, though the man assured him that he'd be able to one day.
If something bad happens, I'll jump in.
He didn't understand how stealing food was coexisting with the Centaurs, but Draco supposed it was better than the dumpster diving he'd done in the past. Easier than hunting, but riskier, and also more exhilarating. Strange, but it was thrilling, the fear of getting caught — a reminder that he was truly alive. Time passed while Draco imagined all the things the Centaurs would do to him if they ever got him in their grasp. None of which were pleasant.
When stars lit up the sky, the majority of the herd went toward the blazing bonfire at the village square, leaving the stall unattended. Now was his chance, Regulus nipped at Draco's side. The white wolf gathered his courage — what little he had emboldened by the friend looking out for him close by — and left the cover of their hideout. He stalked quietly to the structure in which the Centaurs stored food, and slipped inside.
He used his mouth to put some root vegetables and fruit into a burlap sack, not daring to shift out of his wolf form with the herd so close by. His heart pounded for every second he was under the shelter, remembering the last time a Centaur snuck up on him, and wondering what would happen if someone came in the door behind him right now. Draco wouldn't stick around long enough to find out.
Hastily, he fled for the cover of the woods once more, burlap sack gripped firmly in his teeth. He probably should have taken more, but he did manage to acquire a chunk of honeycomb, dripping in decadence, before he'd run off. He and Regulus split the treat later; for quite some time, Draco had been craving something sweet.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Granger giggled into her hands.
Draco squinted, confused, "What?"
Her face was red as she fought to contain laughter. Granger attempted to speak several times but would devolve into a fit of mirth at every attempt. Draco sat there, giving her a look that spoke to his impatience until she finally was able to spit it out.
"Silver?" She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, "What is that? Your wolf name?"
Draco's face flushed with embarrassment. He didn't quite like being the butt of someone's joke, especially when it came to something that was out of his control. How ironic.
"That's what you got, out of all of what I just told you?" He shook his head, "Unbelievable. It's what Regulus called me."
Her laughter had subsided, but her smile remained. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," though she still chuckled as she spoke, "it's just adorable."
Draco sneered to hide the blush that crept to his cheeks — in that moment he was thankful for his overgrown beard, "Adorable? I'm a big, scary wolf. I could break you in half with my teeth and pummel you without even trying. What about any of that is adorable?"
She let out a contented sigh, finally having her amusement in check, "I don't know, I guess there's something about the fact that you can't kill me, or even hurt me, that makes you less intimidating. Take away the scary factor from a wolf and it's really just a big dog. And dogs are the cutest."
Something about her phrasing made him smile, satisfied.
"I thought you preferred cats," He quipped, alluding to the familiar that had followed her around in school.
"Can't have a dog at Hogwarts," she pointed out.
"You're right," Draco conceded, "there are no canines at the castle, but the forest is rife with them."
He hadn't meant it to be funny, nothing was really funny about a fugitive hiding away under the guise of an animal, but Granger had barked laughter nonetheless. It felt good to have laughter echoing off the walls of his home once more.
"You said there were more," Granger started, when she had calmed, "who else was out here with you?"
Draco sighed, here was the inevitable. Though she would never understand. To have loved and lost was a shared experience of humanity, but the journey of one could never be appropriately conveyed to another. There was too much history. Too many small moments throughout a lifetime's worth of love amalgamated into a single sentiment. At such a scale, it was inevitable to lose granularity.
Even if Granger could relate, she would never know the pain and suffering he faced afterward.
His eyes flitted over her leg, with less and less bone waiting to be grown every hour, she would be done soon… gone soon. And Draco would be alone again, with nothing to do but lay with the ghosts of his memories on Granger-scented pillows.
Mark Your Territory, The Perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, June 2000
Draco jumped when Regulus intruded upon him in the den, his human head popping through the opening at the base of the tree.
"Come walk with me, brother." Regulus requested. Though Draco was coming to learn that no ask of his was optional. The status quo had quickly become obey and oblige, but Regulus was good to Draco. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, but since then had developed a sort of kinship. Namely, Regulus wouldn't leave Draco the hell alone.
"I've got another lesson for you today."
"What is it now?" Draco sighed, standing and dusting the dirt off the only decent pair of trousers he owned, "Are we breeding blast-ended skrewts?"
Regulus chuckled, "No, boy, it's nothing like that. You'll just have to see. I'll wait for you up here."
It took Draco but a moment to ready himself for another day spent with his cousin. The two wolves joined at the base of the oak tree, her canopy providing ample shade. Looking beyond the cliff he noted the abundance the forest had been thriving with, the air rife with the sounds of insects and the sweet smell of summer.
This way. Regulus instructed, to which Draco obliged, following him away from home and north. They passed the reflecting pond, winding up an ascending path that led toward the mountain. After what felt like an hour of climbing, Regulus abruptly stopped and sat, staring solemnly ahead.
Keep going, the black wolf nodded toward the rocky peak before them.
The white wolf trotted a few more paces before another command came through. Stop.
Draco sat panting and quirked his head to the side. He looked back over his shoulder at the black wolf, awaiting further instruction.
If you take another step, you'll be out of the Dark Wood's bounds. The air will be lighter without the magic in it. Out there, the only magic is whatever you have inside you if any can exist at all. Go, boy.
His body tingled as he crossed the threshold. It was easier to breathe here, despite the higher elevation than the forest floor. The wolf took a few steps before waiting for his mentor. When Regulus didn't join him, Draco looked back to find the black wolf sitting firmly at the edge of the wood, gazing longingly at him.
Hoping there was no one around, Draco shifted. "Aren't you coming?"
Regulus shook his head, No. This is what we came to see.
"So what now, then?"
Run out there, Silver. Breathe in the air so deeply that you'll remember this feeling of freedom in your bones. Your bounds won't always be so limitless.
Draco hadn't been out of the Forbidden Forest in many months, but his wintery visits to Hogsmeade were far less relaxing than being up here, far away from wizards at the base of the mountain range. His instructions from Mother had been clear, to stay in the woods and wait for her. Even his previous excursions in Hogsmeade had felt wrong like he was betraying some vow by straying so far. But it had been over two years, and she still hadn't come. Surely an hour more away wouldn't hurt.
He took a deep inhale, centering himself, before exhaling and becoming the wolf once more. A cool breeze ruffled his fur. Draco closed his eyes and relished in it, pretending he was flying instead. What he wouldn't give to feel the thrill of flight once more.
Draco took off then, running as fast as he could, his strong legs carrying him so quickly over the rocky ground that his jowls were pushed back by the wind. The further he ran, the colder it got, but it was refreshing and welcoming, like a cold shower after a hot day. He found a few areas where paths were carved through higher elevations of earth and spent hours running and jumping across the gaps, pretending he were a seeker charging after a snitch rather than a wolf, a man, seeking the simple pleasure of imagination, of joy, of freedom.
The sound was weak, being so far away, but Regulus made it through, faintly, calling Draco back. When he returned to the perimeter of the Dark Wood, fur windswept and contented pants falling from his mouth, Regulus looked pleased. He was sitting a distance back, munching an apple at the base of a tree.
Draco shifted just fast enough to catch the apple that Regulus tossed at him.
"How was your time?" he asked casually, but Draco swore he caught a hint of jealousy in his voice.
"Fine," Draco shrugged, crunching loudly on a bite of fruit. "Why didn't you come with me?"
"I can never leave the Dark Wood," he admitted with a sigh. "It's hard to explain." He tossed the core of his apple, launching it over the perimeter, muttering, "But you'll understand one day."
Sun was setting before them. Draco finished his apple, tossing it in kind with Regulus, but not making it nearly as far.
"So, could you tell?" Regulus asked after the two sat in silence for a moment, "Could you feel the difference between in here and out there?"
"Yeah. It's cold out there," he brushed his hands over his bare arms, "but it was nice," Draco narrowed his eyes, "easier to breathe, if that makes sense."
"I wouldn't know," Regulus murmured as he stood and brushed dirt from his robe.
Draco followed suit, unsure of what was next.
Regulus, however, knew just the thing.
"I want you to walk the edge of the Dark Wood, Draco. Mark the perimeter, draw a line, whatever you have to do to ensure that you know exactly where the boundary is." His eyes glinted seriously, "You need to know exactly," Regulus emphasized.
"The whole thing?" Draco crowed, incredulous, "But that will take hours, days maybe!"
Regulus smirked – perhaps it was a Black family trait that Draco had inherited – and his snicker echoed off the trees as he clapped Draco on the back.
"Better get started, then."
A Test, A Path Deep in the Woods, August 2000
Regulus was beginning to grate on Draco's nerves. He was just so insistent.
Draco was often called on at all hours of day and night. It never failed to startle him when Regulus's voice filled his mind unexpectedly. It didn't feel like a probing intrusion like being subjected to Legilimency, rather it was more like an owl – or at times, a howler.
His lessons had gotten more and more involved and with that came Regulus's increased expectations. They had started with basics – food, water, shelter, survival stuff. Much of it Draco had figured out on his own, much to Regulus's pleasure. As a reward, Regulus showed him more ways, easier ways to survive off the Forest. Showed him niches hidden amongst the trees, places he would have never found without knowing they were there – whether it was by coincidence or some force of magic, he wasn't sure.
Each lesson learned, each triumph, rewarded him with an increased sense of security and confidence. With Regulus around, things were even starting to feel like home. Not home in the sense of the hell he had lived in at Malfoy Manor – his lasting memory of it nothing more than a gilded cage – but home in the sense of a place he was beginning to feel at ease. It felt as though he had just moved in again for the first time, figuring out where he fit in his new surroundings. Draco felt like he was finally finding his place.
But there was still much to learn, to do, to change.
Today, Regulus had called upon him in the early morning for a walk. It seemed like a simple request, but Draco had learned by now that nothing was ever what it seemed. There was nothing simple about Regulus Black.
The two wolves strolled about the wood, meandering through trees this way and that, and hopping over fallen branches. Draco had come up with an intricate marking system that segmented the Forest into concentric rings, noted by gouged trees, stacked rocks, and dug trenches. It was arduous to maintain, but he did so on Regulus's behest. It seemed like everything he did these days centered around his cousin and his whims.
They were nearing the periphery, so Draco slowed and veered left, only stopping when they came to a water source. The white wolf examined, sniffed, and pawed around just as he'd been taught. He earned Regulus's nodding approval, so they sat to rest and drink.
Draco felt famished after the long and seemingly pointless journey. As if on cue, there was a rustling heard from across the creek. The scent wasn't foreign, but a rarity in the woods: mundane game. How it had gotten through the magical barrier of the forest was a mystery, one that Draco didn't care to ponder with the prospect of a hearty meal before him.
Blessed Merlin, it was a doe. Her light brown and white head came out between two bushes, big black eyes scanning the clearing. They widened upon seeing the two wolves at the creek bed. She paused there for a moment, paralyzed. Draco didn't hesitate.
He barrelled through the creek. At the sound of his paws hitting the water, the doe turned to run, but Draco was faster. The wolf nipped at the heel of the doe to slow it down. When she was sufficiently encumbered, he pounced and pinned her to the ground. Draco's instinct was driving him, hungry for meat after months of eating like a damn vegetarian and stealing scraps from others. He placed his teeth against her neck.
The animal bucked beneath him and when she did, Draco felt something unexpected. A tiny hoove beneath the pelt pushed against him. It was a moment that forced Draco to pause just long enough for his humanity to kick in.
He couldn't take the doe without having to handle the fawn – and how developed would it be? Draco didn't care to know. He was hungry, but not desperately so. There were other sources, other ways he could sustain himself, that required far less brutal means.
Beneath him, the doe stopped struggling, accepting death with a rapidly beating heart. It surprised all three creatures present when Draco released his grip on the deer's neck and let her run free. He shook out his fur, staring at the spot on the ground where the deer had just laid.
Regulus approached, in his human form, and placed a hand on top of Draco's head. "Well done, Silver." He gave Draco's head a gentle pet, "Well done. It's not always easy to control yourself in the wild, but at the same time, death is not always the answer. Not everyone deserves to die."
Draco shook the hand off his head, not liking to be treated like Regulus's pet – though it appeared he very much was.
Regulus withdrew his palm with a chuckle before transforming himself. That was good of you to spare the mother, he channeled into Draco's head.
Draco concentrated intently, finally able to send a message back after months of trying, I know.
Regulus barked jovially, prancing back and forth in celebration. Draco felt elation, holding on to the feeling of power evoked by the mental connection he'd formed with Regulus's mind, and began to prance in return. They barked, they jumped, and they wrestled – two wolves of a pack, enjoying their time together.
Once they calmed down, Regulus stood and shook out his fur, motioning for Draco to follow him. They both shifted into their wizard forms, with pink cheeks and smiling faces.
"Well done, boy!" Regulus clapped him on the back. "You did it!"
Draco grinned, his chest swelling with pride. He didn't understand the magic behind it, didn't understand how he could almost feel Regulus's presence like a hum of vibration in the air. But after having gone so long without wielding any magic, Draco didn't care to understand the source, he could only appreciate the high of feeling it there.
"Come on!" Regulus pulled him by the sleeve, "I want to show you something special."
"Wait!" Draco called after him, "Won't someone see us if we run around like this?" He motioned to his long, thin frame that was beginning to fill out with muscles thanks to the ample exercise and adequate diet he'd been receiving. He still wore tattered and ill-fitting clothes, with feet so dirty his skin could hardly be seen under the caked-on mud.
"Nah," Regulus dismissed him, "the Dark Wood will make sure that nobody unwanted will find us so long as I'm around."
It was one of the strange turns of phrase that Regulus often used that had Draco questioning if there was a hidden meaning behind it. As much as he had gotten to know his cousin and spent a lot of time with him, much about the man – namely his motives and intentions – remained unknown. His platitudes and assurances had all proved right thus far and, given the high he was still riding, Draco wasn't one to argue or inquire about it.
So the two men ran down the forest path, not bothering to change into wolves this time, heading straight for the heart of the wood. Regulus took him past the creepy lane that was imbued with spiderwebs and to a place much deeper than Draco had ever gone before. The trees were thick here, hard to walk through the further they went and, Merlin's tits, it was hot. Finally, they forced their way to a small cave opening and pulled back a curtain of ferns covering it. Draco felt awestruck as to what was inside.
It was a hot spring hidden away in a cave. The waters were a deep pit of black but reflected masses of rock that shone a plethora of colors when small streaks of light came in from the forest beyond. Regulus reached out and stuck his toe in, testing the waters, and gave an appreciative sigh.
"How can something like this exist out here?" Draco asked incredulously, reaching out and feeling the water himself.
"Best not to question nature, mate," Regulus brushed him off with an easy smile, "just enjoy it."
Draco was already taking off his tattered shirt when his cousin clapped his hands together and announced his departure.
"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up? I have to go, got business to attend to," Regulus informed him, before leveling him with an endearing smile.
His next words lifted a weight off of Draco's heart.
"You're a new man, Draco Malfoy."
And so a new man he became.
An Invitation (Of Sorts), Regulus's Cave, September 2000
Regulus never ceased to amaze Draco. The things he could find in the woods were incredible and Draco often wondered if he had a source on the outside. Things like the mulled wine that filled their goblets, which went down far too easy with their dinner of zucchini and mushrooms. The trinkets in his cave were another curiosity, but Draco could never get close enough for a proper look.
There was a small fire in one corner of the cave and Draco was stretched out on the floor in front of it, resting atop a soft pelt. Regulus sat nearby in his rocker, like always. He leaned forward to refill Draco's wine and then emptied the rest of the bottle into his own cup. They each sported a matching, drunken blush.
"I'm glad you're here, Draco." Regulus raised his glass to him, "It was lonely before you came around. I know we were strangers, cousins technically, but by no sense of the word other than blood. Now I see you more like the little brother I never had."
The fire, the wine, and the kinship were beginning to settle in on him, leaving Draco feeling safe, happy, and maybe even loved. The things he had dreamed of for so long, the things he craved desperately during his formative years when a madman infiltrated his family and took over their home. It felt good, but, for Draco, good things never last.
"You're drunk," Draco laughed, sipping from his glass to avoid showing how much the words had warmed him.
"And you avoid any serious conversation," Regulus accused him with a wagging finger.
Draco stared intently into his glass. Regulus was right, of course. He was always bloody right.
"Ease up, boy," Regulus nudged Draco's side playfully with his foot, "you don't have to be so guarded. We're family," Regulus inhaled sharply, "I would do anything for you."
"Quite the family we are." Draco drained his wine and came to a sitting position. "Our ancestors would be rolling in their graves to see us living like this."
Regulus giggled at the sentiment, enjoying a private joke with himself that Draco wasn't privy to. Blood purity aside, the Blacks were a well-off and powerful family. The natural habitats Regulus and Draco had made home, the way they lived, it wasn't a way the rest of his family would have understood or ever accepted. This tranquil and sustainable way of life, their family would have called downright dirty.
Draco examined the dirt that caked his bare feet. Dirty, he was.
Regulus interrupted his thoughts. "The Dark Wood likes you, you know." He stood from the rocker and knelt down next to the fire, gently stoking the flames with just a twist of his hand. "She sees potential in you, just like me."
"She?" Draco questioned.
"Yeah," Regulus stared into the flames of the fire, a distant smile ghosting his lips, "She wants you to stick around."
Draco had abandoned his wine, feeling suddenly sober. He stared up at the stars through the hole in the cave roof, searching for the answers to the questions that plagued him, all summarized in a single inquiry. His voice was a trembling whisper. "What does it all mean?"
Regulus turned away from the fire and placed a warm, strong hand upon Draco's arm. When Draco looked into Regulus's eyes, they sparkled with warmth but also a hint of something else, something Draco would spend weeks trying to decipher. His words were charged with a powerful energy that settled into Draco's bones.
"It means she's inviting you home."
Home. What a concept. While Draco largely considered the Forest to be his home, the invitation felt unsettling for it wasn't clear what all it entailed. And how could anything ever be home when the person that felt most like it in his heart was somewhere else?
Draco wrenched his arm away. "This isn't my home."
Regulus scoffed, "You sure about that, brother? Where else do you have to go?"
Draco thought of all the places he could run, how he could disappear and go somewhere else and start over by himself. But if he did that, she would never be able to find him. He would be alone forever, the thing he feared the most.
Regulus's words mirrored Draco's thoughts, "The Wizarding World won't take you back and you wouldn't survive a day in the muggle world."
Draco clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.
"You need the Dark Wood, Silver," Regulus continued, "her safety, her protection. Haven't you figured that out by now? This is your home, there won't be anywhere else for you."
His words were piercing, hitting truths Draco was too scared to face. The reality was crashing down on him. First, he had run out of luck and now he felt like he had run out of options.
Draco stood, swaying slightly as the heat and the alcohol hit him.
Regulus stood as well, "you can't run from this, Silver."
Draco sneered and shifted into his wolf form. Regulus was wrong, this wasn't what life would be like for him. His situation was only temporary, Draco was only waiting for the next steps of the long-term plan to come to fruition. He had to be patient, he had to wait. He would get out of the woods, it was only a matter of time.
With the rest of his available energy, Draco projected a declaration loudly into Regulus's mind, watch me.
He bolted from the cave, running into the forest where he could barely see in the darkness of night. Paws trudged familiar paths until they ached in rhythm with his restless soul. Something was coming, he knew deep in his bones. Everything had been good for a while, but for Draco, happy things did not last.
Whatever magical root that had taken hold of her leg was much faster at regrowing bone than the Skelegro. The feeling was different, too. Whereas Hermione had found the Skelegro to produce a splintery feeling that stabbed at her from all angles, pushing through the sleeve of muscle to form her leg, the Forest was gentle and her leg felt like it was slowly filling, like the stomach at a holiday meal.
It wasn't long before the roots began releasing her leg one by one. Relief filled her, thankful it wasn't a carnivorous plant. When the last tendril of nature released her, the thick main roots curled back up and retreated into the floor.
It was done: her leg had grown back, but Hermione's worry stayed.
Malfoy, of course, was there in an instant and set to examine her closely. Touching, squeezing, and moving her lower leg at the knee and ankle joints. Hermione felt very conscious of the fact that while he did so, her hospital gown rode up until surely he had a full view of her panties, though he was too concentrated to look. When he was done, Hermione shyly fixed her state of dress.
She was free and whole for the first time in days: unbound and with both legs. Naturally, Hermione felt quite eager to get up, but she was unable to do so without assistance. She glanced at Malfoy, who was putting notes onto a parchment at the table.
It was something she wanted to do on her own, too proud or too embarrassed to ask for his help. Hermione sat up and swung her legs to sit on the side of the bed. The stone in-laid on the dirt floor felt smooth and warm against her feet. The bed creaked as she shifted, testing how it felt to put weight on her bottom half again.
Carefully she stood, enjoying the feeling of being whole again. It felt almost as though nothing had happened at all.
Hermione felt strong and steady, but then she tried to take a step and her new bones betrayed her. She felt her knee buckle and braced for impact, but rather than falling against the stone-hard ground, she felt Malfoy's warm, strong embrace as he caught her.
"I got you," he murmured, twisting her body around in his arms with ease before gently setting her bum on the ground. His arm remained wrapped around her back and shoulders, supporting her weight as Hermione caught her breath. Their chests were pressed together, his beard tickling the skin on her neck.
Of all the bad things that could have happened to her, she was here — alive, well, and in one piece. If not for him, the outcome would have been far different. At that moment, Hermione accepted that Draco Malfoy had saved her life.
She looked at him, seeing the hardened man of the woods for the first time for what he was: a man she'd come to know and not the boy she remembered from the past — this man was caring, deep, and passionate. His eyes shimmered in the flickering candlelight, a glimpse into his soft interior, and a smirk crossed his lips.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Hermione breathed, her chest tight with his proximity.
His deep timbre rumbled against her, "I can't stand to see you in pain." His fingertips ghosted over the scar on her forearm as he spoke, "The damage I've seen done to you has created memories that are bad enough to live with. I can't spare any more space in my brain for bodily harm done to Hermione Granger."
Not for the first time, Malfoy had rendered her speechless. Her rational brain told her that he didn't actually care, but how could he not when he treated her so tenderly? And why did she feel so comfortable, so safe, in his arms?
"You've changed," she whispered.
His warm hand covered her scar. Gently, he pulled her arm up and placed it around his neck. Malfoy left it there and deftly hitched her knees over his arm as he stood, cradling her against his chest.
"Good," he whispered back, their faces a breath apart, "I don't want to be that person anymore."
Hermione found herself lacing her hands together behind his neck. Her heart beat wildly under her rib cage. She gave him a thoughtful look, licking her lips as she settled on a newly accepted fact. "You're not."
The space between them closed, his lips pressing against hers. Hermione froze, unsure of how to respond. Her body clung to him as he held her, there was no place else to go. The kiss was gentle, his lips surprisingly soft.
She should have pulled back, should have slapped him for being so forward, but there was that magnetic pull again, keeping her firmly in place, powerless to break the connection. Malfoy pulled back for just a second and they both panted, breath lingering in the gap between them.
He licked his lips, half-lidded eyes searching her face. His arms relaxed, putting slightly more space between them, though he looked reluctant to do so. They swayed as he turned around and set her gently on the bed.
When he let go, Hermione shivered at the loss of warmth. Her hand came up to touch her lips, almost convinced he had not been there at all if not for the tingle they left behind.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck, "I shouldn't have done that."
Maybe he shouldn't have and maybe it was wrong, Hermione couldn't be sure. In this magical forest, with the hidden shapeshifter of the woods, and the allure he possessed that was impossible to resist, all the lines she'd lived within before became even more blurred. She licked her lips, tasting the hint of peppermint there.
Heat crept on her cheeks as her eyes traced from the veins running up his arms to the broad shoulders and his, Hermione gulped, bare chest. This man before her felt strange, yet familiar. She tried to speak but had lost all finesse with articulation. "S'okay," she muttered.
"We'll have to get you stronger before you're ready to go out on your own," Draco informed her, mercifully changing the subject, though she would not be able to think of anything else for the rest of the night.
He shuffled into the kitchen, "I'll make some tea."
Hermione had to reach for the book beside her before she could say anything stupid, her mind racing a mile a minute at the turn of events that had just taken place in the den. The kiss, this place, Draco, and everything about him, had her caught completely off guard. Here, hidden away from the world, Hermione felt she couldn't be further from herself, or at least the person she thought she was. Periodically, she turned a page to keep up the ruse that she wasn't sitting there thinking about him.
When Draco gave Hermione some tea, their hands lingered a touch. All night, between the heated looks and awkward attempts at conversation between them, her lips burned for him.
Another Arrives, The Reflecting Pond, October 2000
Draco was resting at the Reflecting Pond, enjoying a day to himself for once. It was the first reprieve he'd gotten since Regulus began forcing endless lessons on him. He was content to spend the day doing nothing but trying to avoid his thoughts.
He'd been just about asleep, sunbathing in his animagus form, when a sound came from across the pond and interrupted him, signifying he wasn't alone.
With one eye open, Draco waited patiently for Regulus to intrude upon his mind and set him off on some other ridiculous task, but no such thing came. It had gotten quiet, too quiet. He picked up his head to investigate, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw.
When he gazed across the Reflecting Pond before him, it wasn't Regulus, wolf or human, that he saw standing there. It was another wolf, small and gray, with ears up on alert and tail wagging with what could be perceived as anxiety. The sight made Draco's breath catch in his throat.
Suddenly there weren't just two wolves in the woods anymore.
Draco moved like rain — slowly at first, barely imperceptible as he lifted a paw while appraising the newcomer, and then all at once, barrelling quickly across the surface of the water, disturbing the mirror-like surface. It stepped forward carefully, head sinking lower and snout bobbing as it sought out his scent. Draco stood still, allowing himself to be circled while also taking note of the creature. Well fed, fur well kept — the only fault Draco could find is that she didn't smell how he anticipated. It was surprising that her smell no longer reminded him of home.
Appraisal concluded the gray wolf came face to face with him once more. Their eyes locked with recognition and a surge of emotion. She stepped forward and leaned her head against his neck — reunited at last.
His legs shook with jubilation, though he had a niggling feeling that fought to tamper his joy. Draco pushed it away, not allowing anxiety or resentment to ruin the moment he'd been waiting years for. He nuzzled against her in return, soft whimpers escaping him as he relished in the warmth of her touch.
They stayed there for a moment, but after too long Draco worried that they would be stumbled upon by someone or something else. He felt like he was flying, his stomach doing flips at the excitement of getting what he had been waiting for all this time. It was better if they took their meeting elsewhere, where they might be able to see each other properly.
There was only one place to go: home. She followed him there, though he spent the journey worrying what her reaction would be when she saw how he'd been living for the last two years. He couldn't imagine that it was anything comparable to the dwellings she had become accustomed to in her life, though his hole in the ground was infinitely nicer than Azkaban.
When they got there, the gray wolf morphed, revealing their true form. Draco did the same, barely managing to stand as he fell into her arms, sobbing.
Delicate hands reached up to smooth his hair, "There, there, my darling boy. I'm here now," She whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I'm here."