Chapter 23

-/-/-/-/-/-

Warm September air kissed his flesh. Draco was beaming in his perfectly starched dress white uniform as he hauled two giant duffels full of clothing and gear to a quiet spot behind the administration building. First stop was the estate in Beziers.

He had no sooner deposited his green military bags beside the marble staircase in the foyer when a black Mercedes sedan rolled to a stop in front of the wide planters full of fall flowers.

His jaw dropped when mother slid out of the driver's seat and mounted the stairs. The doors swung open and soft classical music played a gentle welcome to the matron of the house. He wrapped her in a hug. Her tiny hands cupped his, and she said, "Here, let me look at you."

She nodded as she examined him in the uniform and then squeezed his arm. "The training certainly has agreed with you. What is your next assignment?"

"Officer candidate school. It starts next week. I will need a noble title and an estate here in France."

She nodded. "Fairly typical. We'll meet with the lawyers tomorrow. And the fee for your commission?"

"Seventeen thousand five hundred gold Francs."

She shrugged. "At least they aren't trying to shake you down." Mischief glittered in her eyes. "Would you like to park the car in the garage for me?"

Of course he wanted to, but he had to know. "How long have you been driving?"

"Since I was sixteen." She must have seen the confusion in his eyes, so she continued, "Your father... Well, you know how he can be. Wizarding England is mired in the past. You probably already know this, but your father and I have lived separately since before you were born. We have an immense number of properties outside The Isles. Managing them has been my job."

He knew, but hearing it from her still burned inside his chest. "Where did you live?"

"I consider Vienna my home, but I travel between Monaco, Casablanca, Nice, Bern, as well as several estates in the United States, Mexico, and Argentina. It allows me to enjoy beautiful weather while I'm checking on our properties."

The Mercedes twelve cylinder engine rumbled to life with a throaty purr. This wasn't one of the Legion's twenty-year old clapped out Peugeauts, this was a fully loaded Mercedes S600. By the rich scent of leather and wood, it must only have been a few months off the lot. What surprised him was the odometer. It already said over eight-thousand kilometers. Did Mother really do that much driving?

Muggle electronics silently slid the seat into perfect adjustment. He carefully piloted it into an empty spot in the carriage house and made his way back for a floo ride to The Manor.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Two vodka collins full of cherries and orange slices laid on silk doilies. Aunt Andromeda's breath sucked in when she saw him. She clicked her tongue and wrapped Draco in a hug. "Come here and let Aunt Andie look at you. I don't remember you being this tall, or this handsome."

And he didn't remember her being so short, or having pixie-cut silver hair. Merlin, he hadn't seen his aunt since... He must have been nine. It was before Hogwarts.

She crooned and pinched his arms. He couldn't help the heat in his cheeks. His mother pushed in and wrapped her arms around him. "I was so worried. I'm so thankful you made it."

He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. His aunt was back, squeezing and prodding him through his dress white uniform. "Cissy. When did he become a man. My little Dragon was always so skinny."

His mental shields were fully engaged. He didn't dare let his mother or aunt discover the truth about his condition. He laid an arm around Aunt Andie's narrow shoulders and grinned. "We did a lot of exercise, and they didn't starve us."

His mother looked him up and down approvingly. "No. I suppose not."

Soon, he was seated in a crushed velvet chair savoring his first gin and tonic in three years. He smacked his lips. "I applaud your good taste. This is muggle, isn't it."

Aunt Andie did a double take when his mother nodded. Her look said she had ten-thousand questions, but she was interrupted by a blue haired whirlwind bounding through the room. The boy stole a purple frosted tea cake off his mother's plate before tugging on his aunt's sweater. His hair shifted through four different shades ending in green while he mumbled, spitting crumbs all over the white lace tablecloth. "Grandma! Grandma! Come look!"

His mother laughed at her sister, who was shooing the boy back to his toys. Suddenly, the boy's nose twitched and he froze, staring at Draco. His hair turned straight to brown and he climbed up, smearing a trail of purple icing across the front of Draco's dress whites. The boy proudly proclaimed, "You can be my brother wolf."

Draco laughed. "Well, brother wolf, what's your name?"

"I'm Teddy. You know, tonight is a full moon? Dad and I like to howl at the moon. Do you like to howl at the moon?"

"Of course. Doesn't everybody?"

His mother mouthed, Harry's boy.

He almost snorted a mouthful of gin all over the kid. Had Harry knocked up Nymph during the war? That didn't seem right, as she was a solid ten years older... But war does strange things to a man. His mother must have seen the confusion. She tapped her cheek. "He's Nymph and Remus Lupin's son. Harry is his godfather."

Now it all made sense, and he knew exactly who the boy was. With the kid in his lap, the light scent of wolf drifted into his nose as the boy chitter chattered while smearing icing all over his shirt.

Aunt Andie did a double take, so he blunted the surprise. "I serve with a considerable number of lycanthropes in The Legion."

His mother gasped. Her face turned green and she shifted on her seat. He laid a gentle hand on hers. "Its nothing like that. They are rendered non-contagious and I have been fully vaccinated."

His aunt blurted out, "That's impossible. Its a death sentence. There's no cure..."

He let a sigh drift out. "Perhaps in England. The condition is not reversible once you transform. The French worked out a vaccination to prevent infection as well as a treatment which returns their sanity over seventy years ago. I can assure you I'm fully immune."

The woman's jaws clenched and her lips pursed. She stared down into her drink and tears dripped down her nose. His mother passed her a tissue and gripped her hand. "I'm so sorry, Andie. If I had known..."

"They treated him like an animal. Tried to kick him out of Hogwarts. Constantly harassed him. Put him in jail. Why wouldn't they tell us?"

He pulled his aunt into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize."

She froze and rapped her knuckles on the table. "Cissy! Sirius!"

His mother responded with a perplexed look. "Sirius?"

"Remember how he romped with Remus on every single full moon. Him and the Potter boy."

She clearly didn't but his aunt continued, "He made himself into an animagus! I was so worried, but he said it made him immune! They fought all the time, Sirius and Remus... He got bit and clawed on the full moon and never got a spec of lycanthropy. Draco must have made himself an Animagus!"

And that was exactly the story he needed. "I wasn't supposed to say anything."

Now his mother and Aunt Andie were both staring at him, waiting. He rolled his eyes. "And you want to see."

Aunt Andie nodded. He could see the worry in his mother's eyes. The boy was tugging at him now. "What do you turn into, brother wolf? A dinosaur? Ooh, a dragon!"

"Oh, I'm much more boring."

"A fish?"

"No."

He sat the boy down and the icing stains and sprinkles evaporated off of his dress shirt. "You really want to see?"

The boy nodded. "You should turn into a toad!"

The women clearly were waiting for him to get on with it, so he backed up a bit, twisted his head, and transformed. His shoulders and hips grew as bones rearranged and his body stretched upwards. Coarse body hair sheeted his arms, legs, chest, and back while his blonde beard sprouted and squared off. He flashed his eyes fiery yellow and gave a sharp-toothed smile to the boy clapping and jumping and running circles around him.

His mother's hand pressed into her mouth while his aunt gasped and fanned. Aunt Andie said, "What sort of animagus is that? Cissy, look at these arms! They're huge. He looks like Draco with pointy ears and a beard, except really big and angry."

His mother quirked an eyebrow. "Bludbaden if I'm not mistaken. Certainly some sort of Wesen."

How does Mother know that?

"Blue-what? Wesen? That's German? Cissy? You know what he is?"

He nodded. "Yes. I chose a Bludbad as my animagus."

His mother nodded. "That is certainly an unexpected choice. They typically are quite susceptible to..."

"I'm fully immune."

Both women stood up, but he was now feet taller than his mother and her sister. They touched and prodded, inspecting the new Draco. His mother said, "It puts my mind at ease, knowing you cannot contract that dreadful disease. So do Wesen consider you one of them now?"

"Yes, Mother. I just tell them I'm vorrherrscher and they're fine."

Aunt Andie's nose wrinkled. "Volta-her-what?"

His mother ignored her and continued, "Mmm. I suppose so. That is a very interesting choice. Do you still have magic in your Wesen form?"

He waved his hand over her vase of wildflowers and transformed them into pink roses. This brought a wide smile to his mother. She was positively beaming. His aunt piped up. "How does he still have magic? Everyone knows animagus can't work magic in their animal forms."

"That's my Draco!"

He nodded and transformed back, shrinking half a meter as he did. The elf sized room returned to its normal size. "I would appreciate you keeping this between us. I'm not supposed make it public."

The women nodded, but the boy was now bouncing around, roaring and clawing as he ran circles around the room. It was his turn for curiousity. "Does Teddy show any symptoms?"

"No. He's just such a bouncing handful."

So his cousin probably didn't woge, but... He turned his attention down to the boy licking the purple icing smears across his shirt. "He may be immune, like I am now. Let me guess brother wolf, you can't sleep during the full moon, and it makes you super hungry."

The boy's head bobbed as he hunted the floor for sprinkles. His hair and eyes now matched the glittery icing. "Well then, brother wolf. How about we howl at the moon and run in the forest tonight!"

The boy's eyes glistened as he begged his grandmother. Aunt Andie rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's too much to ask your cousin. He just got back."

The boy's lower lip turned out. He tugged Draco's shirt. "Can we? Please?"

He turned to his aunt. "It's no trouble, and you can get a whole night's sleep."

His aunt visibly relaxed. "He's just such so active. He bounces and runs around all night, and he eats everything in the whole house. Ted and I just aren't young like we were. Are you sure?"

His mother patted her hand. "Harry still lives here, but you and Ted are welcome to stay the night if it would make you feel better."

His aunt slid out a pink cellphone and tapped away. A few minutes later, it dinged a message and she smiled. "Teddy, your father says a moonlight romp with your cousin Draco sounds like fun. He wants to come, but he's stuck on a case. If it's ok with you, I think I would prefer a quiet night in my own bed."

Draco's phone buzzed. It was a text message from Harry. Meet me at the ministry for a quick parole check-in.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Half four found Draco wishing for a gin and tonic as he ambled into the atrium of the ministry. Of all the reminders, Voldemort's Magic is Might statue featuring a bearded version of himself holding hands with a witch, seated atop a heap of broken muggle and goblin carcasses, still gleamed black in the center.

Paper airplanes whizzed past as he pushed through the throng on his way to Harry's new office. The warren of hallways was exactly as he remembered it, though.

Half a dozen aurorers piled out through an oak doorway and he went in. It was double the size of the last one. Potter now had a window, a wood grain desk, and a black office chair out of a muggle supply catalog. Granted, as lieutenant over the second shift, the view consisted of chimneys, a dumpster, and the soot covered brick walls of the muggle bank next door, but it was a window.

Potter clapped him on the shoulder and squinted as he came in. "Cor. What did they feed you in that place?"

"It's probably easier to pin down what I didn't eat. Hey, look at you with the new office. Congratulations on the promotion."

Potter's fingers dragged over the faux-walnut grain desktop. "Yeah, well, don't tell anybody, but you were right about playing the whole Lord Black card."

He smirked and drawled the words out. "Of course I was. Got a little nudge from her majesty, I see." He eyed the picture of Potter and Daphne holding hands in a field of daisies. "How are things with you and the missus?"

"Good. Great really. I'm sorry it didn't work out between the two of you."

Draco waved away Potter's concern. "I'm assuming you're already talking marriage?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "The lawyers have been at it since our second date. Why does anything to do with Sacred Twenty-Eight have to be such a bloody mess?"

"You're the most famous wizard in The Isles and hold several hereditary titles, a seat on the wizengamut and a sizable estate. She's heiress to an estate worth almost a quarter of a billion galeons. It's not like we're talking a Holden and a China dinner set."

Potter's eyebrow quirked. "Did you just correctly use an analogy with a muggle car?"

"Muggle girls, driving automobiles, using electricity. Some would say you're a bad influence on me."

That got a laugh out of Potter. It seemed to help shake him out of the melancholy. Harry said, "They're arguing over the number of children and how the inheritances will be settled."

"You would not believe the sort of things you find in the entails governing hereditary estates. Some can only go to a son. Some can only go to a daughter. Some can be passed to whichever child you want, but others pass to other heirs or even become forfeit if you don't raise seed."

A groan answered, but he continued, "Lady Greengass's holdings in Brittany pass to a third cousin in Sweden if they don't have a son."

The scent of a woman lingering in the air drew his attention away from Potter's rant. Visions of naked breasts and hips danced, leaving him slobbering. Harry's impatient tap tapping brought him back. Buzzing turned to words, and Harry asked, "Yeah? So we're good for the Christmas party?"

Christmas party? He blinked. "At Grimmauld?"

"No, at Azkaban. Of course at Grimmauld. You going to ask Ada?"

His chest tightened. It was better if he left those feelings packed away where he would never find them again. "No, but I'm sworn off purebloods."

"Ah, perfect. I know just the girl."

Hope glimmered until Potter's eyebrows waggled. His face sank into his palms. "No."

"She's still going on and on about that pen thing your mother gave her. That and hexing your ribs made for the best week she's had since before the war."

"Do you realize how low that sets the bar."

Potter scratched his nose with the quill and mischief filled his eyes. "My point exactly. I already made her swear an oath."

Draco's jaws clenched and his teeth ground. If Potter wasn't one of his closest friends... He let the words drawl out. "Fine, but you owe me."

They finished up business with a fine for "losing" the ministry's devil worm, and he was off to the exchequer.

With the first night of the full moon looming large, Draco was beating a path to the floo when a giant mountain of papers cascaded over him.

A mop of brown, curly hair poofed out of the stack. A woman pawed at the papers drifting towards the walls while apologizing. He bent, raking leaves of yellow parchment into stacks. Her scent drifted past, and he knew it, but didn't recognize it. His brain clicked at something hiding within the dusty odor of lambskin parchment. The faintest traces of feminine wolf lingered in the air.

He quirked an eyebrow. They didn't allow werewolves into the ministry. The mere accusation alone was a career killing death sentence, if not grounds for immediate imprisonment. His mind drifted back to Professor Lupin, the best Defense against Dark Arts professor Hogworts had seen in over a generation. They had ruined the man.

The woman scooped up the overflowing mountain of parchment heaps, and turned. Hermione Granger was now staring past him, clearly preoccupied, or maybe just didn't recognize him, and muttered a quick thanks. Her nose twitched and she froze. Her stare bored holes into his skull. "You?" Her gaze flicked to Potter's door, then back to him, and her eyes narrowed. "No. Please tell me he didn't..."

May as well twist the dagger while he had the chance, so he bowed and held out his hand. "Would you give me the honor of accompanying me to Potter's Christmas parry."

She was straining against something, but lost. Her teeth were gritted, but her hand slid into his. "Bloody oath! Yes, whatever."

He pulled her up and summoned the papers into a tidy mountain. "Did you, perchance offend Daphne somehow."

Darkness flickered behind the brown in her eyes and her demeanor became predatory. It was the sort of look he had seen in the Wesen men, and LeClerc, when they had prey in their sights. "That witch. I'll.." Her teeth gritted and her hands clenched until her knuckles whitened. He focused his powers, leaned in, and rubbed between her shoulders. His lips brushed her hair as he whispered, "There are too many witnesses here."

Granger huffed out a laugh, and he caught the scent again. Wolf. It was stronger this time, or maybe he was just closer. Then he remembered that her latest post was at the bloody pound. The stack held scents of hippogriff, thestral, flobberworm, brownie, and five dozen different flavors of magical critter. Certainly, she would have had werewolves in hidden in the mix.

He stopped and took in the rest of the package. She was just as emaciated as the last time, except now, the potato sack she called a dress hung so poorly that it left knobbly bones telegraphing. May as well take the swot by the horns... "Since you're clearly as enamored with the idea of this Christmas catastrophe as I am, how about we pick out a dress and a suit."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "I'm quite capable of chosing for myself, thank you very much."

"So you simply lack the impetus to do so? Tomorrow, let's say nine at Saint Pancras and we'll run the chunnel to Paris."

Her jaws knotted as she strained against the oath. Eventually, she coughed out, "Fine."

On the way out, he texted Potter. Your oath is bloody brilliant. I need the info.

Found it in one of your mother's books.

He nearly spit his tea all over everyone around him.

Bloody hell.

His plans for the rest of the afternoon were now officially ruined until he made sure The-Boy-Who-Diddled-With-Spells-He-Didn't-Understand hadn't somehow managed to betroth him to Granger.