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Chapter 23: Twisted Things
xxx
The moon was growing closer. Remus could feel the wolf growling in the back of his mind as soon as Severus invaded. It fought furiously against its chains, snarling terribly, trying to frighten away the other, unfamiliar presence.
To his credit, Severus didn't retreat, though Remus clearly felt a frisson of fear tainting his thoughts. It was a surreal sensation, to be aware of emotions that weren't his own.
This time, he was determined not to submit his memories so easily. Not that the Legilimens was supposed to be looking at his memories, but he'd said that last time, and Remus had learned not to trust Severus Snape.
They'd chosen an hour early in the morning when neither had lessons to attend to. This was perhaps the third session since the first, disastrous 'introduction', and the werewolf was growing used to another invasive presence in his head. Still though, as ever, it unnerved him to feel the other man surging through his thoughts again, returning to the place he'd started the foundations of Occlumency.
Severus had wound the wisps of defensive mental magic like threads, tying and intertwining them with the golden chords which connected Remus's thoughts. It was a pioneering technique, but the man was already proving skilled at it, improvising when he had to and otherwise managing to follow the ambiguous instructions of those who had already tried it. Slowly, ever so slowly, Remus could feel the alien presence of barriers being built up in his mind, guarding all those thoughts which might give him away as a spy. Severus was thorough, he could say that much. The man had even begun to dream up false memories, which were twined into the mix.
They were the hardest to get his head around. The Potions Master had put his first attempt at this into a pensieve, and Remus had watched it, fascinated. How odd, to clearly see himself acting out scenes he knew had never happened. But there he was in his mind's eye, narrowing his eyes at an oblivious Harry, hating him, blaming him for Sirius's death, silently planning vengeance–
They scared him, those fake memories. But, rationally, he knew they were necessary, and supposed he should be grateful for Severus's talent in creating them.
He just hoped they were good enough…
xxx
"Draco, concentrate!"
Pansy's sharp elbow brought him back to attention, making him twitch in his seat. Slughorn's droning voice was still going on, probably the reason he was half-asleep in the first place. As much as he loved Potions, the subject had lost a great deal of its appeal when Severus transferred teaching positions. Slughorn's pompous lectures and anecdotes grated on him, now that the novelty of being the favourite of another teacher had worn off.
He let out a sigh and glanced around, noticing that for once he had the least notes. He'd have to copy up later. To be fair, though, the majority of the class seemed to share his disinterest. Only Granger was scribbling furiously, determined to save every bit of 'wisdom' that fell from their professor's mouth. He rolled his eyes at her.
"What's wrong with you?" Blaise asked quietly, idly doodling on the corner of his parchment. "Thought you'd be on top of the world, with yesterday's win."
Draco made some noncommittal noise. He had been happy, and had proven that at the Slytherin common room last night. They'd drunk and congratulated each other and stayed up until the wee hours, and now he was tired. And bored.
And a little worried.
He'd noticed that after the match, when the two captains had shaken hands again, Chang had stayed as far away from him as possible. God, she really had seen something when he'd flown close to her. With the moon so close, he should have known better than to lose his temper in close quarters and a volatile situation.
The question was, would she realise the significance of what she'd seen? If it had been Granger, he'd already have been making preparations to leave the school, knowing she'd figure it out within the day. But Chang wasn't that smart…
At least, he hoped she wasn't.
"Draco!"
Again he blinked and looked at Pansy, only to realise she wasn't the only one staring at him. The rest of the class, as well as Slughorn, was waiting expectantly.
He flushed. "What… what was the question?"
xxx
The end of classes finally, finally came, and Draco wanted nothing more than to hide in his room and escape the niggling worry that had set in during Potions. It had grown worse throughout the day, until he was half convinced that most of the school was whispering behind his back, fully aware of his secret.
Common sense told him this couldn't be true. At the very least, it would surely have reached his own ears from the Slytherins, or even Potter's, who would have warned him.
For the moment, things were still under control, he tried to convince himself. With yet another tired sigh, he spoke the password and waited for Lilith to swing forward, then stepped through into the living room.
Potter lounged in a lying position on the couch, his legs crossed at the ankles, with Vanima coiled along his chest. He looked up with surprise when the werewolf entered, guiltily scrambling to sit up. "Uhm…"
Merlin, the Gryffindor was here more than he was!
"Potter, this is my common room, you do realise? How do you even know the password?" Countering his indignant words, he walked past without much real protest, undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.
Harry watched as the blond disappeared around the corner, presumably toward his bedroom (Harry had never investigated that far into the Slytherin's living quarters). Not sure if Malfoy was even still listening, he called hesitantly, "I… don't, actually. She just lets me in."
"Are you kidding?" came the indignant cry seconds later, slightly muffled. "I swear, I'm requesting a new portrait… The security in this place is lacking."
Harry smiled indulgently at the pretentious wording. Then, aware of what he was doing, he swiftly wiped his expression blank. Dammit, he had to keep in mind that Malfoy wasn't funny, and he wasn't clever. God, how hard could it be, when he'd spent five years trying to tell the prat just that…?
"How long have you been here?" the Slytherin's disembodied voice asked, sounding slightly impatient.
"I had a free period last, so about an hour."
He distinctly heard a snort, followed by a sarcastic, short-tempered, "You could at least let me pretend I have some control over whether or not to let you in."
"Sorry –"
Malfoy suddenly made his reappearance. Harry glanced at him, then fought not to double-take. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen him dressed casually before now. Well. He thought he had. Surely he must have…?
The green and silver tie was gone, and the blond hair ruffled where it had been pulled carelessly over his head. Crisp white shirt now untucked and unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealed by the lack of heavy school robes. He held a book in one hand, carrying it with him to the chair opposite Harry, where he threw himself down and propped his feet up on the coffee table between them.
In the Gryffindor's lap, Vanima wriggled questioningly. Did you know your body temperature just increased? Why?
Harry ignored her, though with some difficulty.
Grey eyes studied him critically – but then, weren't they always critical? "Don't you ever have anything better to do than sit around here with that creature? I don't think I can recall the last time I sat down alone, Potter."
Harry shrugged, and glanced down at the creature in question. "Yeah, well every time I spend time in the Gryffindor common room, people keep asking if I've lost my mind. It's getting to be annoying."
The blond smirked as he opened up the red hardback about halfway through and balanced it on his knees. "I assume your problem relates to me?"
"Doesn't it always," Harry quipped. "But yeah. They really hate you."
"I should think so. I've spent my school career making sure of that." He flipped a page with one finger, looking entirely unconcerned. "Besides, wasn't that the point?"
"Yes," Harry answered carefully. "It just makes things… stressful."
"There's always the library. The Room of Requirement. Any number of empty classrooms. I'm sure there are other places for you to escape to, and even take your pet."
The Gryffindor tensed. "You can just say if you want me gone, you know."
Again, grey eyes flicked up to meet his, pale and expressionless. "I didn't say that. I'm just wondering why you want to be here." He continued to stare for a moment, then calmly returned to his book as if he hadn't just voiced the problem Harry had been struggling with for days.
Harry didn't answer – had steadfastly refused to answer that question even to himself – and they descended into the silence that had become almost habit. Because they weren't friends. They weren't. What they were, Harry didn't know, but talking wasn't a part of it. Instead, they sat in silence, avoiding eye contact, while Harry tried not to think of The Dream, and Draco tried not to react to the quiet, lovely hisses from across the room – and, really, wasn't it a twisted thing this was?
xxx
The first weekend of the half term would mark the full moon. Draco and Remus were no longer the only two anxiously counting down the days. Severus kept a steady eye on the date as well, trying to cram in work with Lupin before the moon's proximity made it too dangerous. Harry, too, watched the lunar cycle with invested interest. He'd not yet made up his mind whether or not to go running again.
The week-long holiday immediately after the moon was also a matter of conversation. It was a time when many students were taking the opportunity to visit home, Ron among them. Harry was secretly glad of this, hoping that a spell of separation would ease the growing conflict between him and the redheaded wizard.
Draco was used to visiting Malfoy Manor at half-terms. It was almost a shock to the system to realise he'd be staying in school this year – would probably be staying here until he graduated, horrible thought that it was.
But what came as a far worse shock was the letter he received Friday evening, just as he was about to leave for Lupin's cottage. The impressive eagle owl had deposited it on his bed, perching itself near the pillows and waiting imperiously. He'd recognised the bird, and the handwriting which addressed it to him, but neither had stopped him casting all the curse-checking charms he knew. Only when he was assured the letter was safe did he pick it up.
Reading his mother's words was a harder task than he might have expected. Abrupt longing stabbed at him, and suddenly he was a first year all over again, homesick and upset. She asked him to come home, just for a little while, she missed him, and his father honestly had nothing to do with the request.
He wondered which possibility hurt the most: if she'd taken Lucius's side willingly, or if his father had quite literally forced her hand.
Whichever the case, he held no qualms in holding it over the fireplace and incinerated it with a quick flick of the wand, watching sadly as the ashes drifted down to settle on the hearth. "No response," he told the owl, waiting until the bird had departed just to make sure it didn't decide Vanima would make a nice snack, then left his rooms with a dark cloud and his mother's lies hanging over them.
xxx
He was halfway down the stairs that would lead him into the foyer when he heard the hasty footsteps behind him. But, recognising the sound of squeaky trainers, his alarm quickly faded, and he even paused to wait for his pursuer.
"Malfoy!" The Gryffindor's voice was entirely lacking in the usual hostility both of them displayed toward each other in public. Finally catching up, Potter slowed to a jog and then a walk.
"Subtle," Draco commented sarcastically. "But I don't think everyone up in the Astronomy Tower heard you." Honestly, some people had no thought for public image…
"Oh, sorry," was the quick brush-off response, not nearly as concerned as the Slytherin would have liked. "You're going to see Remus then?"
"No, I thought I'd prowl the castle tonight. I'm feeling daring."
Harry looked unimpressed. "Alright, stupid question… Mind if I come with you?" The last came out in a rather tangled rush, and he was reminded of why he'd been placed in Gryffindor House: when in doubt, take a running leap.
Grey eyes slid slowly toward him, cold and assessing. "No date this time?" His tone left no doubt that he'd seen straight through Harry's last excuse, though the Gryffindor had no idea what conclusions he might have drawn. After all, Malfoy surely wasn't to know the real reason Harry had cancelled was that he'd been enormously freaked by their… sleeping positions, was he?
"It didn't work out," was all he replied, however, just as coolly.
The Slytherin's only reaction was to flick light strands of hair from his eyes and tilt his chin in as superior a manner as ever. "Makes no difference to me," he said with an affected shrug. "It's not like –"
Draco stopped sharply, listening. Canine ears could hear what Potter's couldn't, and the werewolf froze with the sounds that drifted toward him. Voices, and ones he recognised all too well.
"Pansy's coming," he hissed immediately, already looking around for some place to conceal them. But the corridor they stood in was bare, with no doors or decoration, and the sound of approaching Slytherins was getting louder as they neared the corner that led to the foyer.
He could not be seen here with Potter, not when they weren't cursing and hexing each other, which was the only acceptable explanation. Worse, he'd already been made late by his mother's letter, and if they kept him any longer he'd end up changing right in front of them.
Potter, ever unhelpful, was doing nothing to extract them from the situation, instead rooting uselessly in the bag he carried over one shoulder.
"Could you please do something?" the werewolf tried to whisper furiously.
Green eyes flashed. "Shut up, I am." Finally, he started to pull something into view, like a muggle magician with a chain of handkerchiefs, but the thing he held seemed liquid and silvery. "Come here."
"What?"
"Just – Oh, never mind!" And then the Gryffindor had darted toward him, whirling something above his head and around them as he moved. One hand closed on Draco's wrist, spinning him round until he stood face to face with the other boy, whose back was to the wall.
"What – what are you…?"
"Invisibility Cloak," Potter murmured, almost soundlessly.
Draco didn't have the chance to let the shock of his recognition sink in. A few brief thoughts clamoured in his head – Potter had an Invisibility Cloak? They were expensive! So that was how he got away with so much! – and then Pansy and Blaise wandered into view, their voices low and private.
"He's disappearing so often lately, have you noticed?" the girl was saying, and Draco knew without doubt she was talking about him.
Blaise shrugged. "He's probably in his room. You only notice because he's not sitting around the common room anymore."
She shook her head. "I went to visit him the other day. That portrait of his said he hadn't been in for an hour."
"Pansy, stop trying to keep tabs on him, will you? There are other places in this school. Did you check the library? The potions lab? Draco's a swot, he's probably been doing extra work on the sly."
Harry had to turn his head aside and look away from the wide-eyed indignity on the blonde's face to avoid bursting into laughter. It was a massive effort, and he felt his throat ache from the repressed reaction.
The two Slytherins were drawing closer and closer, and were soon near enough that both Draco and Harry worried they'd walk straight into them. The blond shifted nervously, reluctant to press any closer to the Gryffindor, but knowing they'd have to do something or they'd both be discovered in a situation even more compromising than before.
Pansy's hushed voice recaptured his attention. "Actually, I was wondering if it had anything to do with… well, his father, if you know what I mean."
Blaise gave her a withering look. "A first year Hufflepuff would know what you mean, Pans." He sighed and shook his head. "I was thinking about that, though. I suppose it had to come sooner or later. This is Lucius Malfoy, after all. It only makes sense he'd ask Drake to –"
"Don't say it!" the witch hissed at him urgently.
"I wasn't going to!" he snapped back. "Some of us have more tact than you…" Looking put-out, the dark haired boy fell silent, and sped up his pace with annoyance.
Merlin this was going to be a collision course, Draco thought abruptly. He was stood directly in Blaise's path, and couldn't move for fear the Cloak would reveal some glimpse of him or Potter–
Arms suddenly encircled his waist, taking him by surprise, and then he was pressed tighter against another body than he thought he'd ever been in his life. He felt the irrepressible need to shove away, to swear and shout uncontrollably, because how dare Potter take this liberty, this… this thorough invasion of personal space? His chin rested on the taller boy's shoulder, and from the deep darkness in the back of his mind he could hear the wolf's sly voice urging him to bite in retaliation. This close to the moon, he could probably manage to infect, if he wanted…
He clawed his mind back to sensibility with an effort. No. Good God, Potter was trying to help, for once…
"Blaise!" Pansy called after him whiningly, making him stop to wait for her. In silence, Draco cursed his friend and forced himself closer to the wall and the other boy – luckily, oblivious to the glazed expression that was starting to creep into green eyes.
Pansy stopped walking a little distance away from her fellow Slytherin, then spoke in barely a whisper. "What… what do you think about it? If that is why he's gone all the time, I mean…"
Blaise took his sweet time in answering, much to the werewolf's frustration. "I… try not to think about it, actually," he responded after a while. "It's going to happen to all of us, eventually. Why worry about it yet?"
His words didn't seem to comfort her, that much was obvious. With another sigh, the boy pulled her into a one-armed hug and they continued on in silence, just brushing by the invisible pair by a hair's width.
When he could, Draco let his breath out, sharp with relief. That had been entirely too close.
Harry felt the blonde's sigh as a shock of sensation, hot breath on the back of his neck, just below his ear, and fought not to close his eyes. He was not enjoying this, he told himself. He couldn't be enjoying this, because The Dream wasn't supposed to be true, damn it all!
Malfoy was turning his head, carefully trying to look at him, and the little puffs of breath touched his jaw now, warm and pleasant, and he was turning to meet them almost against his will.
"You can let me go any time, Potter."
He blinked, and only then realised – to his sinking embarrassment – that he was still clasping his arms around the other boy's waist. He let go as if burned, wide-eyed in the face of the icy blue stare.
"I-I'm sorry, I –"
He didn't get the chance to finish whatever explanation he might have given. Draco suddenly gasped and doubled over, one hand clutching the Gryffindor's shirt in an effort to stay upright. Unable to help, Harry could only watch as the transformation took over. The blonde's tight hold on him dragged him down as the changing werewolf sank to his knees.
He sympathised with Malfoy in a new way, afterwards. Never had he heard the Slytherin scream in genuine pain before now – instead of the fake, affected moans he'd once put on for sympathy – but he did then. Alarmed, he cast a silencing spell around them, but there was little other than that he could do.
There was a moment in the following, drawn-out seconds, when Draco threw his head back, wolf-white eyes pinned wide, and Harry saw, with horrible clarity, the viciousness of the creature that lurked beneath the surface. The wolf was free for that brief instant, before the chains of Wolfsbane snapped tight around it. Still, it was enough for Harry to jerk back in fright, realising, for perhaps the first time, the true capabilities of the thing inside Draco.
He witnessed the rest of the transformation in a kind of shocked daze, partially amazed when the wolf that remained looked up at him with clear eyes, despite the fact he'd seen the same twice before now.
When it was finally finished, Harry looked down awkwardly at the torn remains of the Slytherin's clothing. KO garments return to their original state. Scooping the pile up, he stuffed everything into the bag which already carried the Invisibility Cloak – all the while imagining Malfoy's haughty complaints about the creases he was making. He planned to deposit the bag at Remus's before changing himself.
"Come on then," he murmured, hoping there were no more students still out and about besides themselves. That's all he needed. Sightings of Harry Potter walking calmly alongside a large blonde werewolf. Oh, he could see the headlines now…