WE ARE BACK! apologies for the wait but here we go with another otterly ridiculous predicament!
September 20, 1998
Avoiding Granger was easier said than done. The woman was ubiquitous, in his every waking moment—along the halls, in the library, in his dreams. It was too eerie.
He'd memorised her schedule for the sake of eluding her presence even, yet she always coincidentally lurked in some corner of his travels. Not that he went out that much to begin with.
The number of times they'd crossed paths in the Head's tower made for a many awkward moments for it to be just the beginning of term. Then there was the part where she looked at him like shite smudged on her shoe.
Draco had no right to complain. Anyone who grew up with him would agree.
He, too, badgered himself constantly of how he used to treat Granger and her bunch; the rumours they spread and more. But those reminders could never erase the fact that it pained him, worse and worse, to be on the receiving end of the torment he'd subjected them to. He wanted to go back in time and strangle a pint-sized Malfoy.
Though the guilt of seeing Granger's face every day, sleeping next to that familiar scream that no wall could conceal urged him to think how there was no need to trouble the past to make the present a slightly better place.
The rest of Britain practically made it an anthem—a ripple effect for their victory.
"One less Death Eater," they chanted in unison, pushing Draco into daydreams of a cold cell and a neck tattoo that would irreversibly serve as his new name going forward. Being behind bars ought to keep him safe more than his freedom ever could. Then he'd think of what his mother would say were she ever to find out about it.
But something changed today, when Granger entered the common room, late into the night as she often did, to see him sitting alone on their sofa just admiring the fire for the umpteenth time that month.
She'd forgone the usual contemptuous stare as their eyes met again in weeks. He'd made a pathetic habit of deflecting his attention elsewhere whenever they did.
Now, however, he couldn't look away. No matter how uncomfortable it made him; because in those chocolate pools, swirled an endless sea of pity. Granger looked fucking sympathetic. For him, for his situation and current appearance, both? He didn't know, but it flicked a switch in him that he decided to hide the moment he saw her on the other side of the door that first night.
"What?" he spoke to her.
December 18, 1998
The otter was out of the bag. The otter was out of the fucking bag and it wailed with the might of a thousand gods. So he did what any sane person would do in that situation: close the mini-demon's gaping maw with his fingers and stuff it back in the pouch.
He kept the bag sealed with his fist, the other holding on to the broom's shaft as he flimsily landed on the shores of the nearest island below.
It wasn't entirely different to the fringes of Hogwarts—smaller, with only a few more trees littered about and coated with snowdrift at every angle. There was no sign of other life, no prints on the snow made by scavenging critters, or a sound that wasn't a soft whistle from the wind.
It might make for a lonesome winter, but he figured it was more than enough for one measly otter. He'd leave it a month's worth of food, and once the snow melts, when it melts, fish will resume swimming the lakes.
He sighed. How nice would it be to just live far away from everything and want for nothing but food.
Draco set Granger's purse gently on the ground and waited. Truthfully, he'd prefer to shake the thing out of the bag right this second, but he wasn't sure if or what other belongings would follow; and knowing the kind of charm that was placed on it, he didn't dare risk it.
The otter's head appeared not long after, then the rest of its silky body spilled in an oddly human-like manner. It squirmed to hug the snow as though it were a lifeline, and Draco huffed, relieved. He retrieved the bag, packing the headset and MP3 player while his unwelcomed companion studied its new environment.
He was haste in his efforts to sneak away, but as his first step crunched, suddenly the otter turned and Draco's jaw tightened.
Theo had been right. The animal was smarter than he gave it credit for, because it seemed to register what was happening and it squeaked in alarm, closing the gap he'd put between them. It sat only a foot from him when it started to whine, clouded breaths spewing from its parted mouth.
Draco's face soured. Loyalty was a fickle thing. To him, devotion came from one of three things exclusively—fear, love, or respect. In a short number of hours under his care, the otter had gone neglected, stressed, and even injured, yet it still yearned for his company. It certainly didn't love him after all that. Respect was not even an option for something not in the confines of morality. Perhaps the poor creature had been severely traumatised?
Either way, this round of reversed cat-and-mouse would be their last. He'd see to it. The otter had to go, regardless of whatever attachment it had formed with him.
"Go on," Draco flicked his hand. "Shoo."
The animal drew closer, pleading with its dark eyes, when he summoned his broom. It was surprisingly quieter than the previous days, not jumping on him vigorously. Still, an ache brewed in his head, overlapping any bit of remorse in his gut as he picked up the rodent by the scruff and walked deeper into the clearing. That way it wouldn't cling on to his clothes like it did before—a sentiment he'd come to find was said too soon.
"Stay," he commanded, firmly planting the otter deep in the thick mound of snow. One more objection and he would resort to using his wand.
It screamed a muffled shriek, decimating the frozen burrow with a hard shake of its body and chased after the retreating wizard. He was, sadly, too heavy for the pillowed ground; feet digging into the snow as the otter managed to lock its teeth on the hem of his dark cloak, choking him slightly with the pull.
Annoyed, Draco procured his wand. "Alright, you—"
He stopped moving entirely, breath caught in his throat when he twisted to rip the otter from his person. Maybe he saw wrong, but the coolness that shot up his spine and made the hairs on his arms stand told him otherwise.
It had only been a split second glimpse during the pivot. As his eyes wavered to check, his wand settled on a new target.
There in the dark spaces of the woods, as if light itself was too scared to cross, were two glowing orbs shining directly at him. But they weren't just orbs. Much like many, he couldn't forget exactly what possessed such a trait.
Before the cabinet, he didn't know.
He was seventeen, unaware of numerous things about their species because he couldn't be bothered to listen. Some he'd memorised for a test, then learning it personally through Greyback despite his wishes.
He watched as man turned into beast with the moon's wake. The sound of bones mutating sickened his senses and as Greyback's eyes came alive during their nightly hunts, Draco would bargain with his stomach. He vomited bile in his spare time more times than he'd like to admit. For something with the physique of a juggernaut, the fucker could hunt like a ghost, silent and swift, his prey ignorant until they caught the literal flicker of his depravity.
That quirk was the only bright thing about him, and similar to whatever was ogling Draco currently, it was what gave him away the most. But where Greyback and his pack's eyes flared an irksome saturation of piss-yellow, the ones looking at Draco were white. Very white, and much more unsettling.
They pierced through him like an ancient kind of magic, those said in old books and fairytales and legends to have been from Earth's own flesh and blood. It was raw, corrupted, eating him alive even from a distance.
It seemed the otter had sensed it too, both of them now rendered scared and petrified. Then the circles began to slowly rise at a height consistent with a troll.
'No werewolf is this big,' Draco denied vehemently, keeping track of the ever ascending orbs and hoping, praying, that that would just be it. 'That…that's impossible.'
Exactly what the fuck had they disturbed?
A resonant, patient growl emanated from within the depths, shaking his bones, and the snow off the trees. And then there was another, and another. They were being surrounded by the second but he couldn't deliver a single spell. True fear stayed his tongue. At long last, he was scared for his own life.
The otter had clung on his leg, its slinky frame pressed against the south side of his boot. He couldn't possibly leave it on this island with these…things.
Wand still pointed at the unknown creature, he gradually bent to collect his tiny ally using his free hand when the sound of an attack finally made it through. Instinct driven, Draco casted three strong shields—each flashing red geometric patterns—and ran. He mounted his broom just as one of the beasts or more had broken through the thick barrier and had managed to steal a portion of his cloak.
Shivers went through him when he felt it tear, the sound overshadowed by snarls and roars; familiar yet also not all the same, and too close for his liking.
He didn't look back to confirm what they were, but when he was high in the air, he heard the taunting and broken howls of hunger. He absolutely despised werewolves.
Breathless, his heart pounded in his ears as he held the shaking otter to his chest. It was a miracle they'd escaped with only his robes bearing casualty.
Draco flew slowly in sync to his declining anxiety, if only to soothe the otter into seeing they were out of harm's way. It kept a tight grip on his jumper, face buried on the grey fabric. He felt its breath come and go in rapid heaves against his hand.
"I'm sorry. We're okay. You're okay," he assured repeatedly, yielding no response aside from a faint mewl. It was his fault for not checking the island thoroughly. He sighed. A spot with more humans than predators should be the most convenient place to release the otter next.
Something wet dabbed at his lip and he cursed. In his panic, he'd not noticed the grey clouds obstructing the sky. Ahead, it was beginning to rain.
He covered the otter with the flap of his cloak, shielding it from what was about to be an assault of drizzle as he sped up in search of shelter. He hardly felt the droplets hitting his skin as he raced through the weather. In a blink, the rain grew denser, dampening his clothes and his hair. He would've paid no mind to it, had it not made him cold.
On his hip, Granger's bag of wonders seemed to laugh at his plight, as it was not only endless but also completely dry. The purple beads danced with the darkening storm while he suffered to detect anything beyond the blur of water and mist. Below him was a sea of nothingness.
Still, Draco squinted his eyes. Some matches of Quidditch played through similar scenes, when the Snitch was harder to find without the sun shining on it. All he needed was a hint. Just one. Thunder clapped from behind him as the otter squirmed, but poked its face from the sagging flap.
He didn't know where they were. He couldn't reach in his pockets for the compass without letting the animal fall, or surrendering the broom.
'Come on, come on, come on!' Draco flew lower than what he thought necessary, preferring to crash into something but even the ground was unreachable. Why was this day so full of weird shit?
A yell from the otter broke his concentration. Has it seen something? He felt it claw at his torso, on his wound which had already been troubled so severely in the span of a few days. If it reopened, he wasn't aware. Though the possibility was null—the bandage was wrapped extremely tight to allow even his lungs to dilate.
The otter pointed its head west, looking over the arm that steered their transport. At first glance, he thought it had bothered him for no reason, but there was something. Gliding towards it, a grey shape became visible. It was small, but an indication of land nonetheless.
They'd come to another island, this time inhabited by people, a village. He saw the clear figures of houses and shops; some lit, signalling activity, others not.
With the rain pouring above him, Draco hovered at the dingy alley of what he assumed was a hostel. As he got on his feet, he checked for his wand and the locket containing his tracker. Nothing gained, nothing lost. The otter, still in his arm, gave him only soft sounds, like it asked if he was alright.
Yes? No?
He grabbed the broom and sprinted to the front of the building. It was tall, antiquated, built off of bricks and wood that had seen better days—a commoner's best efforts to some extent. Above the entrance situated to the left was a wide, rickety plank painted listlessly in white with the word 'WELCOME'.
Calming his nerves, he opened the door and was met immediately by a party of adults. Any topic they'd been discussing ceased as they greeted him in equal bulks of curiosity and suspicion, none of which he blamed them for, considering his appearance alone was an offence to the room's aesthetic—a hooded stranger, drenched and dressed in black from head to toe.
"Oi! Close the door, would'ya," a man he believed to be the owner shouted behind the bar. "Yer getting me floor wet enough as is."
Draco awkwardly did as he was told before approaching the man, heels clicking on the timber floor. The inside made up for the building's shabby veneer. It was homey, warm, but reeked heavily of booze. There were decent sofas placed all around, two sparkling chandeliers on the ceiling, a fireplace on the side, and walls were decorated with red, white and gold drapes.
It resembled his own picture of the Gryffindor common room: friendly.
Although the owner looked anything but. He stood bulky and tall, with hands so large the glass he held looked infinitesimal. His puffed beard reached his collar and was as frizzy as his hair, albeit well groomed and red, a stark contrast to his murky green pupils.
"I need a room," Draco kept his voice low. "Please."
"No rats allowed," the man said, chin jutting to the otter underneath his cloak. It hummed a saddened whine, pressing deeper into him. Outside, the storm raged against the windows.
"I'll pay extra." He trusted Theo packed enough money. 'Just until the rain stops.'
The man raised a brow, judged him up and down, then narrowed his eyes. "Hood off."
Draco opened his mouth to argue when the man set the cup he was cleaning on the counter and folded his arms.
"Let me take a look at ya, and I'll consider," he clarified.
"Can't I just give you the money?" Draco asked. The last thing he wanted was a fight, but keeping his identity from the public as best he could was part of the plan.
The man chuckled without a wisp of humour. "Money can be faked nowadays, haven't ya heard?"
"Who hasn't?" A middle-aged woman laughed drunkenly out of nowhere. She leaned on the table with her back and elbows, face red and covered with loose stands of her brown locks. "War has ruined even the quality of our gold."
"Aye," the man agreed. "People have taken to replicatin' money and givin' it to desperate sods whose businesses have gone fucked long ago. And they don't know they've been stunted 'til the wee goblins send 'em away for tryin' to trick the bank."
The woman nodded. "Any way you can tell the bribe's real," —she gave him a sultry smirk—"Is to look upon the faces of those giving them. Us plain folks can tell who actually comes from money. If unsure, we just…send them away."
A pause came round. Draco knew he was stuck in a corner.
"So, what'll it be?" the man asked.
Draco shared a look with the otter and pushed his hood off.
"That's more like it. Pretty." The woman whistled at the sight of him, impressed. The man, not so much.
"I think I've seen ya before," he said, thoroughly scanning his features as though it would help jog his memory.
"Been reading the Prophet too much, have you, Henry?"
"No, no." Henry shook his head. "I swear I seen 'im in person. It's that's fuckin' mole on his cheek that's buggin' me. Ah, wait." He snapped his fingers twice and pointed at him. "Now I remember: yer that kid who's always buyin' booze from Sammy's! He mentioned yer name once 'r twice. What was it again?"
Draco licked his lips. "Theo. Theo Nott. Now, can I have a room?"
Thank you guys for reading, for commenting. I love y'all, and see you next chapter!