Chapter Summary: Draco and Aster have a rather enlightening conversation.

AN: As far as story progress, I'm currently working on chapter 8, so I'm well on track to keep updating for the next few weeks. Also, I'm happy to say I found an apartment! The move is coming up soon, so I'll be a tad busy with getting ready for that, but I'll still find time to keep writing :). Enjoy chapter 5!

With You My Tides will Ebb and Flow
Chapter 5: The Curse

Last Quarter Moon in Aquarius: April 28th, 1989

The man, no, the werewolf, seated across from them was large and imposing. It was perhaps the first time Draco had witnessed another being face his father with no hint of fear. Men often cowered beneath his father's gaze alone, grovelled and asked for forgiveness in the aftermath of their errors. They would beg and plead and stop at nothing to find their way back into his father's good graces. But Draco knew this…Conri, would do no such thing.

"I cannot help you Mr. Malfoy," Conri insisted, and he moved to get up and leave. Draco watched him with sad eyes. He wasn't sure what he expected when his father had brought him here, to a hidden teahouse, in the recesses of a coastal wizarding community on the other side of the ocean, but a small part of him had held on to the hope that this might be the path to a cure. And now, his last hope was all but gone.

His father stood as well, hissing at Conri angrily. "You cannot turn us away. There is no one else. I have searched endlessly for months, and all paths led here. It took ages to even reach you for this meeting. I was told you had a cure!"

Conri's expression twisted and he frowned down at his father from an even greater height. "There is no cure for lycanthropy Mr. Malfoy, because it is not something that needs to be cured. It is a gift among my people. Much like magic is a gift for you."

Draco looked down at his feet beneath the table. He hated this. He hated being talked about like he wasn't there. He hated being the source of his father's anger.

"Magic is not a gift, it is a given," his father hissed. "There are those who are great enough to wield it, and those who are lesser." He pressed his hand atop Draco's shoulder, fingers gripping at his collar uncomfortably.

"Your preconceptions are irrelevant to me. Where I come from, we are all equal. Wolf, wizard, man. In my village, you are no lesser or greater than even the soil beneath your feet."

His father pulled out his wand, and Draco flinched as he watched him point it across the table. But before he even uttered the first syllable of a spell a gust of wind rushed through the small pub. Parchment swirled up from atop the tables around them, and his father's wand was suddenly whisked into Conri's outstretched hand. His father's fingers tightened around Draco's shoulder, and Draco's eyes widened at the obvious show of power. This werewolf had just bested his father in a duel before it had even begun.

"That was no spell," his father chimed. He looked frightened, and Draco glanced between him and Conri almost frantically. His father was unarmed, and Draco had no wand. They were defenseless and up against someone far stronger than he could imagine.

But Conri did not attack them. Instead he sighed and muttered, "No, it was not. Nature's magic is learned, from the moment of a wolf's birth. It is given to us, to my people, should we ask for it and show it the respect it deserves. But it is something we all have the capacity to understand, if only we allow ourselves to do so. You are not greater for your magic, just as you are not lesser, for not yet having the chance to learn ours." Conri paused, looking towards Draco pointedly. He studied him for a moment in great detail, gaze lingering on the scars upon his wrists. The cuffs last full moon had been unforgiving. They always were. Draco tugged his sleeves down self-consciously and looked away.

"It will take time, perhaps several years, but I can teach your son our ways. I can teach him to accept all of his gifts. And with that acceptance will come the control you seek," Conri said. Draco looked up, that small spark of hope reigniting inside of him. But he feared it was for naught when Conri looked back at his father before adding, "But the wolf is and always will be a part of him. That, you must understand."

His father growled and turned his back, walking away from the table. He paced the empty aisle restlessly, his fingers searching for something to fiddle with in his wand's absence. When he returned, standing nearby rather sombrely, Conri spoke again. "If you accept this offer, bring him back here on the next New Moon. Understand that you cannot come with him to the island."

"Why not," his father spat.

"Because I do not like you, Mr. Malfoy. And the island would not approve of your presence on its sacred ground."

His father's lips pursed at the insult and he sneered at Conri and said, "You expect me to abandon my son with you for an indefinite period of time on a mere whim?"

Conri observed him carefully, twisting the polished elm between his fingers while Draco's father watched on helplessly. He glanced towards Draco one last time before meeting his father's gaze dead on. "The choice is yours. And I'm not sure what other choice you have," he stated. He reached out then, holding out his father's wand in offering.

He could see his father struggling to keep himself in check. His muscles strained as he reached for the wand slowly and without instinctively snatching it back. He settled slightly once the wood touched his fingers, and then wiped it off on his robes before slotting it back into his cane. When he tapped his cane against the ground Draco stood obediently at his side and waited.

To his surprise, his father drawled, "Fine. We will be here," before twisting and making his way outside. Draco gaped after him, offering one last glance in Conri's direction. The werewolf nodded once, yellow eyes settling on him in interest, before Draco hurried out the still swinging door.

Waxing Gibbous Moon in Scorpio: May 22nd 2005

Draco hadn't always been a natural early riser. He would have slept until noon every day of the week if left to his own devices as a toddler. Even as a baby he'd allegedly slept soundly for the bulk of the day, only waking to eat or when his nappies needed a change. He'd been fussy, certainly, but never resistant to sleep. He remembered being in constant battle with the family house elves, all of whom were determined to have him up and ready for breakfast at a so called decent hour. His mother and father had found it amusing for a time, back when things were still…good. Before he'd gone and gotten himself bitten. And then, it wasn't so much that he didn't want to sleep in anymore, but rather that he couldn't sleep at all.

It wasn't until he first visited the island that the idea of waking up at dawn became even remotely appealing, and something he began to do by choice. Not every day mind you. There was still great charm in a good old lie in. A book in bed with a morning tea. But he had to admit, there was something incredible about watching the sun rise in the morning at the water's edge. Sunsets were beautiful as well, Draco had always loved them too. But a sunrise…felt much more intimate. It was like being greeted by nature's kiss at the start of a new day.

He liked to get to the docks early, set everything up for whatever the villagers had planned for the rest of the morning. He enjoyed the few hours spent alone. Just himself and the sound of the waves, the birds chirping happily in the trees along the coast. Occasionally some others from the village would straggle along after him. Fishermen mostly, out to get the first catch, but the last person he expected to see so early in the morning on the end of the pier was Harry Potter.

Draco went about his work as usual, sparing Harry only a brief glance before he started hoisting supplies onto the boats being sent for trade. A lot was riding on this delivery. They had managed to survive lately on limited supplies, but could only do so for so long. They were mostly self-sufficient on the island, but some luxuries couldn't be found or made with ease. And during the colder seasons, they needed to rely on stored goods and supplies from off island. It was never too early to start stocking up.

It took him the better part of an hour to finish, and he paused at the edge of the nearest boat to wipe his hands, setting his foot up on the gunwale as he returned to watching Harry from a distance. It had been nearly a week, and somehow he had yet to leave the island. Quite long by most visitor standards. It was as if he was determined to worm himself into every activity around town, even those he wasn't particularly good at. Even then, Draco could see him over on the pier, struggling with a fishing rod as old man Rudi taught him how to properly cast a line. Properly was actually rather generous. Draco was pretty sure Harry's flailing and crooked form hardly counted. He'd only managed to hook something once so far, and it had ended with him shrieking in surprise and letting go of the rod as it yanked him into the loose wooden barricade. It was pathetic, the way he panicked every time the fishing line began to rapidly unwind, but Draco found himself smiling at the display regardless. He forced it away the moment he realised.

He didn't understand why Harry had stayed. Not really. There was nothing here for someone like him. No adoring fans, no well-paying job, no comfortable home, or family and friends. If anything, Draco's presence alone should have been enough to send him running for the hills. And yet, there he was around every corner. On the beach during Draco's evening walks. Along the docks when the boaters arrived. At the tavern in the evenings. Inexplicably behind the counter of every store or waiting tables in the few restaurants in the middle of town. Out front of the bakery, to grab a daily sweet, or by the smithy, looking at the selection of intricate weapons and tools he'd no doubt never seen before. He interacted with some of the elders, played with the children. He helped little old ladies, and Draco was certain he'd even seen him gardening, of all things, in the town centre just the day prior. Draco couldn't get the bloody tosser out of his sight. And on those few occasions he managed to miss him in the crowds, he found himself searching for his scruffy haired head, as if worried he might up and disappear.

It was a ridiculous notion. There was no reason for Draco to be obsessing over the other man to such an extent. That had always been Harry's forte. The way he used to sneak around the halls at Hogwarts, following in Draco's stead in a miserable attempt to catch him up to something no good. And now here Draco was, searching endlessly for a familiar dark nest of hair and brilliant green eyes.

It'd been a stupid thing too, to take him to the tree. To hint at nature's magic, at the gifts it provided the people here with. Harry most certainly suspected something. Had even been asking questions left and right about things that Draco couldn't bring himself to answer. Not without giving something away. But Harry had looked so lost in that moment, that morning, along the beach. So clearly caught up in his past. And Draco was very familiar with how that felt. So he'd taken him to the one place that always brought him peace.

And the look on Harry's face. The awe and wonder when it had healed him. He didn't regret taking him there. Not really. Not after that. But he was…worried. For a human to sense it in such a strong way, to connect to it so visibly, was unusual to say the least. He'd drawn on Crann Sailí's earthly magic, without knowing or understanding anything about it. He shouldn't have been able to make that natural connection with such ease. Not when Draco had trained and focused and meditated for years to do the same. Not when some of the villagers, those born with these gifts, still struggled to do so.

It didn't make sense.

"Your mate is watching you," Aster crooned, hopping onto the boat behind him and making it rock wickedly atop the water.

"E-excuse me?" Draco spluttered, and he struggled to grab hold of something as he lost his balance at the sudden motion beneath his feet. "He's not my mate!" Draco glanced towards the pier again unbidden. He spotted Harry and his stupid wavy hair blowing in the ocean breeze and felt his ears grow immediately hot.

"Hmm, and yet you know of who I speak," Aster teased. When Draco gritted his teeth and growled at him Aster whipped a breakfast sandwich at his chest. It thwacked against Draco's shirt, and he scrambled to catch it before it tumbled to the planks below. "I thought for certain you two had a connection."

"Well you thought wrong!" Draco snapped. He unwrapped his sandwich dutifully, crumpling the paper away before taking an overly large bite. The taste of seasoned eggs and maple bacon on a home baked biscuit washed over his tongue, and he struggled to keep the annoyed expression on his face as he peered at Aster over top of it.

"I've been watching him too, all week. Curious thing he is," Aster mentioned as he leaned up against the boom. It wobbled slightly against his weight but otherwise stayed put.

"Nosy you mean."

To Draco's frustration, Aster completely ignored him, crossing his arms as he looked beyond Draco and out towards the edge of the pier. "He's a bit like a child. He seeks information only as a way of learning, without any intent to use it against those he takes it from," Aster muttered inquisitively. And of course Harry had no ill intent. To use information gleaned from a seemingly innocent conversation to gain the upper hand on all those around you was much more of a Slytherin trait. Draco had learned how to do so incredibly well, as had every other person he shared a dorm room with at school. It was a necessity when you were surrounded by those who might benefit from your death and wouldn't hesitate to make that happen at the first sign of weakness.

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Tch, Potter wouldn't harm a fly, stupid paragon of all that is sacred and good in the world."

"Indeed, I figured as much." Aster's gaze shifted back in Draco's direction, though his eyes remained hazy as he spoke, like he was in the midst of a waking dream. "Curiosity is a fickle thing. It can lead us into great danger, without proper guidance. No matter our innocence."

Draco frowned at him then turned away. Sometimes he hated his cryptic bullshit. "It can also lead us halfway across the earth on a whim, so it would seem," Draco retorted.

Aster's vision cleared then, and he studied Draco intently before he spoke, "You should help guide him Draco."

"Pfth, as if," Draco snorted. "Me, guide Potter? The bloody saviour of the wizarding world? Don't make me laugh." He practically shoved the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. Usually he savoured it a bit more, the combination of the rich ingredients and the sweet hint of syrup was delightful, and not something they always had access to, but in that moment he didn't much care. Aster was watching him too closely. Searching for something that Draco was determined not to provide.

"If he were turned, he'd present as an omega."

The comment came out of nowhere, striking Draco inside his very being with how ludicrous it was. He choked on the bits of biscuit still making their way down his throat, coughing and drawing the attention of all those around him. He waved off the jeers of the few workers beginning to arrive, and avoided Harry's interested stare from down the pier. Merlin he hated how sound travelled on the docks.

"You can't possibly know that," Draco squeaked as he wiped crumbs from his shirt. Despite his disbelief, his heart was still beating rapidly in his chest. An omega? No way. It was simply impossible.

"Can't I?" Aster spoke, his voice low and chilling, tone challenging in a way Draco was uncertain he could contest. It was true that Draco had never doubted Aster's gift. He had been made an Elder so young for a reason, after all. He was exasperatingly all-knowing. In the same way Dumbledore had been, but without the incessant twinkle and underlying manipulation of school children for the purpose of grooming them for war. And in Aster's case, he had truly seen all there was to see. Every possible path, every decision that could be made. And the results that came with them all.

But it didn't make sense. At least not in Draco's worldview. Harry was…Harry was…well, the more time he spent watching him, the more it became apparent he didn't have a clue exactly who Harry really was at all. In just the few days they'd spent living in the same community he'd noticed things he never had when they were back at school.

Like his multitude of nervous habits.

He would twist his fingers together and pick at his nails in loud and enclosed spaces. He'd stutter over his words in what should have been simple conversations. There was his seeming lack of sleep, and insistence on pushing himself to help even when doing so was completely unnecessary. Always selflessly putting others' needs before his own, with no expectation of anything given in return.

He flinched at loud noises, and touched every living thing with incredible care. He even avoided stepping on ants, and had nearly fallen down a set of stone stairs the day prior in doing so. He laughed at funny shaped berries, stared at the shells along the beach in wonder. He became fascinated with the smallest of things, like rocks with coloured speckles, or butterflies with bright intricate patterns.

He always smiled at children, thanked those around him profusely for the most inconsequential of things. He had an apparent natural connection to the land's magic, which Draco still refused to completely acknowledge. He was gentle and generous, and above all…forgiving. He must have been to give Draco the time of day, even if their encounters were filled with suspicious glares and stilted barbed commentary. And in contention to Draco's expectation, Harry did everything in his power to avoid being seen. Like he hated the attention. Like he would rather disappear entirely than be watched for a second too long.

And yet Draco saw him regardless. His eyes followed Harry like his gaze was magnetically attracted to him. And he couldn't help but think he looked incredibly lonely in those moments, watching the families in the village longingly from the shadows, as though searching for a place to call home.

Bloody hell.

The reality came crashing down on him. Aster…could be right.

"Should you even be sharing that information?" Draco muttered under his breath. Typically Aster couldn't provide guarantees like that. He couldn't predict an inevitable outcome. He could see possibilities but to take a direct role in the shaping of them, of their future, could have devastating consequences.

The only way he would say something with such conviction was if…all paths converged at the exact same time and space. Which was simply unthinkable.

But then Aster surprised him. He pushed away from the boom, smiled gently, and stated with absolute certainty, "It matters not."

Draco gaped at him for a moment and then let out a hiss of air. It had to be some kind of joke. A twist that he hadn't yet connected the dots for. He repeated the words over and over in his mind, until it finally clicked. Whether or not Harry became an omega was irrelevant if he was never turned. And he tried not to let his disappointment show.

"You're right. It doesn't matter either way. He's not a wolf. He won't ever be a wolf," Draco intoned.

Aster didn't acknowledge him, or his rather depressing words. Instead he stared pensively down the pier, gaze fixed in place. Draco didn't need to turn to know he was once again looking at Harry. Draco frowned at Aster suspiciously. This obsession was strange. He was hardly ever this fascinated with visitors. Entertained, certainly, but Aster was acting like Harry's very presence was something monumental. "What have you seen?" Draco asked, somewhat worriedly.

"This and that." It was intentionally vague. Draco pursed his lips, but couldn't find it in himself to be angry with his response. Still, he remained wary. Just because Aster couldn't directly interfere didn't mean he couldn't still be…encouraging about particular things.

Before Aster could say another word Draco cut in with, "I know what you're thinking and it won't happen. He's not my mate. I'm not turning him. No one, is turning him." He pointed his finger at Aster threateningly. "You know doing that's considered a crime where we come from."

"Ah, but we are here. Not there. Where you have such silly laws, and ways of living. Wolves, without packs. A ridiculous notion. Wolves, governed by the laws of men. Those laws have no place here. There is no reason why a consenting adult cannot become a wolf by choice. We've spoken on this many times before Draco."

"I don't know why we're talking about this at all. He's not my mate. He's not. He's been here for one week. We hate each other," Draco insisted.

That pulled Asters attention fully towards him. His eyes widened in surprise as he tilted his chin down to peer up at Draco in disbelief. "Hate? Are you certain? You seemed rather chummy when I saw you the other day in the forest. Crann Sailí, Draco? Really? We usually wait at least a month for that,"

Draco flushed vividly and gritted his teeth in annoyance. He didn't need to rub it in. Draco already regretted that particular decision immensely. "Were you spying on me?"

"Of course not," Aster claimed. "It is my job to see things, and so I do."

"I didn't realise your sight included tracking your friends out into the woods like some kind of deviant."

Aster grinned widely and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear. "Do you know how he watches you? For all of his intrigue in this island and town, it is you he is most captivated with."

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes. "It's not what you think. He's always watched me like that. Thinks I'm up to something," he reasoned.

"Are you?"

"Of course not!" Draco spat, and then he sighed loudly and slumped where he stood. "Not anymore, anyway. The dirt's probably more interesting at this point," Draco muttered. He scraped his shoe off on the wood beneath his feet as if to emphasize his point and scratched idly at his arm. The dark mark was tucked safely beneath his sleeve, and the fabric of his shirt was doing everything in its power to remind him that it was there. He glared at it and Aster's gaze followed the movement. Ever the perceptive one.

"It hasn't escaped my notice that you've adjusted your wardrobe recently. Certainly practical on some occasions, in the winter for one. But it's been rather hot, especially today. It's nearly summer. And yet here you are, suffering and sweating in the sun, fighting against every urge to roll up your sleeves," Aster commented. Draco paled, and forced his arms to hang at his sides. "Hiding from your past won't solve anything Draco."

"I'm not hiding."

"Aren't you?" Aster crossed his arms, his dark blue eyes peering right into his soul. "You've hidden from him all week. What is it you are afraid of?"

Draco let out a choked laugh, twisting his head away as his jaw clenched tightly. What a loaded question that was. What wasn't he afraid of?

Aster inched closer, touching his shoulder gently. "Which marks do you not wish him to see?"

Draco eyed him carefully. His instinct was to say the dark mark. The shame it brought him would never fully disappear, but the permanent scarring about his wrists would come with questions he'd rather not answer as well. Now or ever. And he didn't exactly have access to glamour spells to hide them anymore.

"He doesn't know what I am," Draco said finally.

"So?"

"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand," he sighed.

"So explain it to me. Are we not friends? After all this time? You're practically pack at this point."

Draco yanked himself away from Aster. He paced the length of the deck before standing in front of him with a grimace. "I'm not your pack. I'll never be your pack and you know it," Draco said.

"Not for my mother's lack of trying," Aster teased. "You chose otherwise. And that's fine Draco. It's fine to want a pack of your own. To want to lead instead of follow. But you can't keep running like this, or you'll be alone for the rest of your days, with no one to lead at all." Aster moved close again, though he didn't touch Draco this time, instead shoving his hands into his pockets. "Despite what you may think we care for you. All of us. Pack or not, you're still a part of this community. And to me, you are a brother."

A lump formed in Draco's throat at those words, and he struggled to swallow around it, blinking his eyes as the tell-tale signs of impending tears began to make themselves known. "He'd hate me for it," Draco whispered.

Aster smiled knowingly and countered, "I find that hard to believe."

Draco took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. It was going to be a sunny day. Not a single cloud in sight. And already the rays of light low and close to the horizon were strong upon his face. He tilted his head and walked to the edge of the boat, sitting down on a bench and slumping over his knees. Aster joined him just a moment later. The boat dipped beneath their combined weight, but stayed well above the water's surface. "Where we come from…all of this is a curse. You remember how I was. How my father was. They wanted a cure."

"At first," Aster added.

"At first, yes, and if given the option, still," Draco insisted. He met Aster's disbelieving gaze with a frown. "Don't look at me like that. You know it's true. If a sudden concoction turned up that cured me of this, they would force it down my throat in a heartbeat." Well his father certainly would, but he'd have a hard time trying from his cell in Azkaban.

To Draco's surprise, Aster grinned widely at him.

"What?"

"You have certainly grown. There was a time you would have sought such a 'cure' yourself," Aster claimed, and Draco stilled.

He was right, of course. As per usual. Growing up, Draco had wanted nothing more than to be rid of his…affliction. But now, he couldn't imagine his life without it. The wolf was a part of him. And losing that part of him would be like losing a piece of his very soul. "I…I know it's not a curse. I know that now."

"And you think this…Harry Potter, wouldn't feel the same?" Aster asked.

Draco sighed for the millionth time. "It's not that. He probably wouldn't even care about the wolf thing at all. He knew one and loved him like family. It's just…the way I acted. The things I did. The things I said. About those just like me. He hates my guts. Rightfully so. Even if for some ridiculous reason I wanted him like that – I don't – but if I did, I'd have no right to ask anything of him, certainly not…certainly not something like that."

The two of them sat in silence for some time, watching the seagulls hover over the water looking for a morning catch. They flocked together in groups atop the waves, taking flight moments later, only to land atop the swelling crests a short distance away. Draco got lost in watching them, wondering what it would be like to have such a simple life. But he supposed the simple life came with its own share of difficulties. Heck, by some standards, he already lived a rather simple life.

He should be grateful. He was lucky in the grand scheme of things. He'd done terrible things. Unforgiveable things. And still somehow managed to wheedle his way out of life imprisonment to make a home on the island amongst these incredibly kind people. He had no right to ask for more, or anything different. He had no right to ask for anything at all.

"You feel as though you don't deserve happiness," Aster spoke suddenly, and Draco startled slightly at the sudden words, thrown by just how on the nose they were.

"I don't. You don't know what I've done. Not really. I'll never deserve happiness. The best I can hope for is some semblance of peace," Draco retorted.

"One day Faolán, we will free you of these horrid thoughts," a familiar deep voice intoned from behind him, and Draco turned his head to spot Conri standing near them on the docks. He held a large bag over one shoulder and a stuffed full sack in the opposite hand. It was clear he intended to sail ashore with the crew that day.

"You were listening too were you?" Draco muttered under his breath, and he shifted uncomfortably, looking out at Harry again just as he began reeling in what might become his first ever catch.

"Of course. Though, it's not difficult to understand your thoughts with the way you practically wear them for all to see," Conri claimed. He jumped over the side of the boat then, and Draco and Aster both reached for the safety rail as they flopped back and forth with the rocking of the hull.

Conri stood beside them, looking out towards the end of the pier to watch Harry fight with his fishing rod along with the rest of them. "He fits in well," Conri commented. Draco shook his head. He could deal with Aster's unwanted commentary, but Conri was another problem altogether. "He clearly doesn't share your family's prejudices," he added.

"I can't," Draco hissed.

Conri dropped his bags atop the deck, pushing them beneath the nearest section of netting to secure them. "Silly child," he grumbled. Draco felt his heart skip, and he sputtered indignantly. It reminded him of when he was so much younger. Of every time he'd done something foolish and been gently chastised while Conri wiped away his tears and offered comforting words in practically the same breath. "You cannot fight against nature's magic any more than the rest of us. The harder you try, the greater the pull shall be."

Draco opened his mouth to argue but Harry cried out then, drawing his attention once more. He was jumping up and down as a fish flapped upwards out of the water, strung up on his hook. Draco watched as Rudi helped him pull it in close, even taking it off the hook for him when Harry grimaced and stepped away. Draco snickered under his breath and smirked, but he forced the expression from his face when he spotted both his companions regarding him with unfettered interest.

"The two of you keep going on about this as if you think us destined soulmates or something," Draco jeered. He meant it as a joke, but Aster and Conri shared a meaningful glance, followed by pointed stares, and Draco swallowed nervously as he watched them incredulously. "You cannot be serious." Conri offered him a sly smile before walking down the stairs leading deeper into the hull. Draco gawked after him and then looked back at Aster.

The other man stood and stretched out his back, letting out a hefty sigh. Aster glanced out at the docks, waved at a few of the men walking towards their prospective vessels, and then he hopped back out of the ship. Draco's let his head fall back over the nearest rail to watch him. "You would do well to remember you aren't the only unmated alpha on this island Draco," Aster spoke softly.

Draco twisted fully around, hand gripping the metal rail almost frantically. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying, he's a cute one. Could be snatched up, right under your very nose," Aster warned. He couldn't tell if Aster was having him on or not. But the idea that there was a path in which Harry somehow got turned, and claimed, by another alpha on the island, disturbed him to no end. He felt his hackles rising, and suddenly he was irrationally enraged. He felt the wolf lingering just beneath the surface, and his teeth elongated in his mouth as he imagined someone having the gall. The points pressed into his lower lip angrily and he tensed, willing himself to force away the change.

"When the island presents us with gifts, we should accept them and be grateful, don't you think?" Aster asked, before he shrugged and walked back towards town.

"Hey! Hey wait, come back here!" Draco practically growled. He scrambled up from his seat, nearly tripping as he made his way out of the boat. He trailed after Aster with newfound purpose, and tried and failed the stop himself from fixating on dark hair and green eyes, and the way they might manifest as a wolf.

AN: Thanks so much for reading!