Chapter 5: Alone
xxx
Despite Severus's insistant protests, Draco had been determined to attend class for most of the day. He'd given no explanation to his godfather, doubting that the Professor would really understand.
In truth, it had occurred to him that if he occupied his time concentrating on classwork, it would mean less time thinking about… Well. Other things.
Beneath everything else – beneath the arrogant, sneering façade – beneath the determination to get through this – there was only surging denial. Draco had yet to sit down and think about things properly, and if he could help it, he'd remain like that for some time to come.
If he thought about it, it'd be real.
And so, he showed up at first lesson only forty five minutes late. As soon as he arrived back in the real world he was descended on by anxious Housemates and Professors who shoved missed assignments at him. He welcomed the overbearing questions and trivial annoyances, the difficult work set by the professors. He wanted to lose himself in the meaningless problems an average day presented him with.
His first three lessons – Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, and Charms – flew by without any major glitch. He concentrated harder than any time before, listened intently, and scribbled down pieces of information furiously. When lunch came, he ate silently, all but ignoring the worried Slytherins surrounding him, and then hurried off to find Severus, who showed him to the new room he would now occupy. It was guarded by a portrait of Lilith the Sorceress, a black haired woman who cast him come-hither looks as he passed. He spent twenty minutes arranging his new living space exactly as he liked it, before rushing off again to attend Potions.
Not having been with the other Slytherins at the end of lunch, and being closer to the classroom than the rest of his Housemates, Draco found himself in the unusual and unfortunate position of being alone in the castle halls. Unfortunate, because as he rounded the corner toward Slughorn's class, he suddenly found himself staring back at almost twenty Gryffindors, Ron Weasley at the head.
For a moment, there was a very loud silence, until the redhead spoke up boldly. "Back from the Death Eater convention, Malfoy?"
The blond narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Sod off, Weasley."
The lanky boy took a few steps forward, distancing himself from the crowd. "Snappy comeback. What's wrong? You-Know-Who Crucio you a few too many times?"
"Ron, stop it." And there was Potter, playing hero, arriving in time to drag away the big bad weasel. Draco's lip curled.
The redhead ignored him anyway. "Or maybe it's just that your bodyguards aren't here. Not so hard without them, are you?"
Growing very, very tired of this particular discussion, Draco levelled his best drop-dead-or-I'll-make-you glare up at the other. "You'd be surprised, Weasley. Now if you know what's best for you, you'll listen to your Golden Boy and shove it." Emphasising the words, he pushed past the taller boy roughly.
The redhead's freckled face twisted in a snarl and his hand went for his wand.
Catching the motion, Draco turned sharply, already reaching for the length of hawthorn which made up his own wand.
"Expelliamus!"
Both boys turned to stare incredulously at Harry, who had shouted the spell, and now held the two wands in his own hand. He blinked owlishly back at the pair.
"Potter!" the Slytherin spat in disgust, unable to come up with any other reaction.
Similarly, Ron could only splutter, "Harry!"
The black haired Gryffindor rolled his eyes, glancing at his friend. "I'd rather you didn't spend another day vomiting slugs, Ron. Here." He returned the length of wood calmly, staring pointedly at the other until he turned moodily and returned to the pack of Gryffindors.
Harry made a show of shoving the hawthorn wand back at Draco, pressing it into his chest. As he did so, though, he leaned closer and hissed urgently, "Your eyes! Lower your eyes!"
For a second, the blonde stared back at him in perplexity before realisation hit. Instantly – and for the first time in his life – he did what Potter told him, silently cursing himself.
Sure enough, using the tip of his tongue, he could feel the slight point of his front teeth, and knew that the dark metal grey of his eyes must have changed to the eerie white-blue Severus had described.
It was his temper. The features were showing through because he was angry. Fuck, this was going to be impossible.
xxx
When classes were over, he was faced with the dilemma of explaining to his Housemates exactly why he wasn't going to be staying in the dorm room anymore.
"Uhm, Draco?" Blaise started off the discussion as he descended the stairs into the common room, having just dumped his work bag on his bed. "Is there a reason why all of your stuff is gone?"
Pansy, who had been prattling on mindlessly about something or other, fell sharply quiet and turned to look at the blonde.
Draco fell easily into the role he'd made up in his head, the practiced lie given to him by Dumbledore coming easily to his lips. He smirked smugly, every little detail about him screaming, I'm better than you.
"Father thinks it's ridiculous for a boy my age to be sharing a room. Especially a Malfoy. He's convinced the Headmaster to give me my own."
Blaise raised an impressed eyebrow and let out a low whistle, while Pansy suddenly took on a calculating look. "Imagine the privacy…" Not bothering to be coy, she looked Draco up and down suggestively and winked.
He rolled his eyes, used to her flirting. "Yes, very subtle, Pansy."
She laughed. "Who wants to be subtle?"
Blaise dropped into a chair by the fire, a book falling open in his lap. He looked up at Draco to ask, "Hey, you're still going to hang out here in the common room, though, aren't you?"
He tutted. "Obviously. I'm not a hermit, Blaise." Shaking his head, he moved to the nearest table and dropped his bag onto it, intending to get at least one essay done.
Pansy stared at him. "You're not doing homework now? Class only finished ten minutes ago!"
He shrugged. "I have a lot to do," he answered defensively.
"Geek," she accused, grinning.
Draco blinked in surprise, struck wordless for the moment. That, he had to admit, was a first. "I am not a geek!" he managed finally.
She raised an eyebrow. "Whatever. Let us know before you leave tonight, okay?" And with that she disappeared into the girls' dormitory, leaving Draco to glare after her and Blaise attempting to hide his amusement.
xxx
Eventually, of course, it couldn't be put off any longer. He said his goodbyes and left the Slytherin common room, ghosting through the deserted dungeon halls toward his new room. Lilith, the portrait, made eyes at him, but other than to speak the password – "Draconis." – he ignored her.
Stepping inside made him shiver. The only impression of his new living quarters to make any impact on him was… quiet. It was so quiet, so empty. He was used to noise and activity, used to constant interaction, whether it was positive or negative.
Stepping further in, he shrugged off the school robe, draping it across the back of the couch that sat in the first room. Casting a glance around him, he was about to continue on into the bedroom when he saw it.
The same goblet from last night sat in the centre of the low coffee table, the liquid it held bubbling slightly. Draco froze. Like a nightmare, he'd half forgotten it existed until he was confronted by it.
Its presence, more than anything else, was what made everything abruptly hit home. This was it. This was his life now. He was to be kept away from people, confined in separate rooms and trapped into secrecy. He could never tell anyone, of course. He'd have to live alone somewhere for the rest of his life, not trusting anyone else not to ruin him if they found out. And this potion… this potion he'd be taking forever.
He sat down heavily, cup in hand, staring at nothing. The sight of his future was blinding him.
Severus had promised that the second transformation wouldn't be nearly as bad as the first – and he must have been telling the truth, otherwise Draco would never have been let out of the hospital wing – but even so, he could feel the beginnings of fear gnawing at his edges. He didn't want to do it again. The concept sounded childish in his head, and it was, but he couldn't help it. He purely did not want to go through it again.
It was the sense of inevitability that was crushing him.
Never in his life had Draco come up against something he couldn't change. If he didn't like something, it was altered. If something broke, it was fixed. He was Draco Malfoy, spoiled brat of the century! He was supposed to be able to fix this!
The clock chimed suddenly, startling him. He glanced at it, seeing that there was almost half an hour until sunset. Bracing himself for the taste, he raised the goblet and drank down the potion quickly.
Then, stiffly, he stood up from the couch and made his way into the bedroom. Once there, he undressed quickly and hung up his shirt and jeans in the spacey wardrobe he'd had moved to the room. He didn't put on pyjamas, knowing they'd only rip within the next few minutes if he did.
Shivering in the cool air, he crossed to the bed and lowered himself onto it. His movements were listless, but he forced himself to pull back the covers and slide beneath them.
There, he curled up tightly and waited for the moon, wishing uselessly that he could be back in the Slytherin dorms, listening to Pansy's prattle and Blaise's patient murmurs.
xxx
Hermione sighed and worried her lip. For a little while there, she'd though Harry was returning to normal. He'd been livelier in the last couple of days, and not nearly as snappish with them all. He'd even had the state of mind to break up a fight between Ron and Malfoy, instead of being angry enough to join in! That, surely, had to be a good sign.
But now… In the space of the last hour, she'd watched helplessly as he withdrew into himself yet again. In the middle of playing chess with Ron, Harry had seemed abruptly to lose interest. Not just in the game, but in them. He'd fallen silent and hadn't responded when spoken to. Hermione didn't think he was purposely ignoring them – he just wasn't hearing them.
And so he sat staring wordlessly at the portrait hole in the common room wall. Hermione knew what was coming before he ever opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm gonna go for a walk," he muttered finally, standing up.
Ron looked up sharply with a frown. "Harry, mate, its well past curfew. I'm all for flaunting school rules, but…"
The other boy shrugged. "I'll take my invisibility cloak," he answered dismissively.
His friends cast resigned, anxious looks at each other.
"And the map," Harry added, "if it makes you feel any better."
xxx
Harry wanted, desperately, to be alone. Like the many times before, the longing for isolation had come on him suddenly. So now he wandered, unseen under his cloak, through the deserted castle halls, Marauders Map in hand and eyes scanning it intently.
At this time of night, the names on the parchment were all clustered together in groups. There was the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories, on the second floor, and Ravenclaw one floor above them. His own Housemates were all gathered up in the Gryffindor tower, and the Slytherins far below in the dungeons.
Most of the professors' names floated around the area Harry assumed were the staff rooms, the exceptions being Snape – who, as far as Harry knew, refused to stay too long anywhere that wasn't his precious potions lab – and the Headmaster, who was in his office. Filch, he noticed, was currently prowling the Astronomy tower. The only other name that stood out alone was his own, and–
Harry blinked in surprise. It was perhaps six years of habit, but as soon as he saw the tight, neat writing spelling out the name Draco Malfoy on its own at the outskirts of the dungeons, suspicion rose in him instantly. His mind formed its own conclusions within seconds, spinning out disjointed ideas about Slytherins, spies and Death Eater fathers, such as Lucius Malfoy. What was Malfoy doing, down there one his own? Why–?
Then he stopped himself, shaking his head at his own paranoia and feeling a trickle of guilt. He also felt more than a little dumb.
Only that morning he'd stood there and listened while Dumbledore made special arrangements to get Malfoy his own room. And not only that – by now, surely, he should be well aware of why the Slytherin was getting those arrangements!
Scowling at himself, he put the map away and strode quickly away from Gryffindor tower.
xxx
The Room of Requirement had served him well in the last month or so, when it was impossible or inconvenient to go stand by the lake. It was the perfect place he could come to be alone, and no one would find him – which was extremely helpful, as he was well aware that Ron and Hermione had followed him more than once in an attempt to discover his hiding place.
He didn't know why they were so worried. Anyone would think that he came back to them with cuts across his wrists or something ridiculous like that. He wasn't hurting himself, taking drugs or even letting his grades slip! There was nothing wrong with him, except the occasional need to just… get away. It would have been nice, if they'd just accept that…
Sighing, he stepped into the room and slipped out of the silvery cloak. The magical space around him had transformed itself into a bedroom, of sorts. A four poster bed sat in the centre, though it wasn't decorated with Gryffindor colours, but rather dark, old fashioned covers. In fact, most of the décor was dark and old fashioned. It was a practical copy of his room at Grimmauld Place.
Really, Harry thought, Hermione had no reason to disapprove of what he was doing. If she knew, she'd probably encourage him. This was extracurricular work, after all.
Sinking onto the bed, he picked up the book which still sat exactly where he'd left it, glancing over the title as he settled himself comfortably. It read, Finding Your Inner Animagus.
He'd made his way through more than half of it now. His progress was slow, since he read and reread whole chapters as he attempted to complete each step in the instructions it gave. By now, he thought he knew what his form would be, and had to make sure to keep that idea in mind as he went through the rest of the book.
And so he read avidly, pausing only now and then to absorb certain facts, or to clear his vision when it swam slightly. Sometimes, during these moments, his thoughts drifted to the only other student that was alone at this hour, and he wondered absently if the newly cursed werewolf was enjoying the solitude as much as he was.