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Chapter 39: Something In Common
xxx
In the privacy of his rooms, Severus stared at the brand in his forearm and silently despised it.
More than he had in years, he hated the sight of it. It sickened him. He couldn't concentrate on anything beyond the hate. He wanted it gone, wanted his flesh burned clean of the taint, the disfiguration, and had to resist the urge to rake his nails across it.
Increasingly, this had been the case for days. No, a week, he realised.
A week since Lupin had gone.
A week since he'd been called away by the very same Mark that burned resentfully in his skin. Never once had the dull, stinging pain of the tattoo either relented or flared. It simply went on, a constant, unchanging sensation, that told him nothing of the Dark Lord's mood or activities.
He despised the brand entirely. It wasn't even of any use to him! Had it flashed with pain, he might have known... might have guessed Lupin's fate. The Mark usually only burned like that when the Lord had committed a particularly satisfying kill. Like a werewolf close to Harry Potter.
But there was nothing. No sign from the tattoo, neither good nor bad, of what had transpired this last week.
He imagined Potter, with his scar and similarly unhelpful link to the Dark Lord, understood his current mood as no one else did. Neither of them knew what was happening – which was perhaps the worst part – though he suspected the boy was practically inviting visions of the Lord's activities, such as he'd received last year, when he'd been able to save the life of Arthur Weasley as a result. How frustrating, that he could see nothing of Lupin...
Severus closed his eyes in exhaustion. Now, in his desperation, he could admit, in the private recesses of his mind, that he evidently... cared, somewhat, about the werewolf, as distasteful as the mere idea was.
He'd just known that Legilimency had been a bad idea...
He'd fallen into a trap somewhere along the way. He'd gotten to know the shabby little man, and that wasn't supposed to happen! He didn't want someone in his life that actually had an effect when they left! That was why he and Narcissa had been such compatible allies: their friendship was clinical, both of them realising that true attachment wasn't possible or practical.
When had he lost sight of that rule?
He suspected it was somehow Lupin's fault. Wasn't it always Lupin's fault...? God damned Gryffindor pest! Wreaking havoc on his reserved Slytherin sensibilities...
Uninvited, the thought occurred to him that the Gryffindor pest may not be around any longer to do more damage.
Severus sighed and rubbed his temples.
He supposed he should be thankful that, even in this weakened state, he wasn't half as emotional as Potter. The wreck the boy had deteriorated into was grating to the extreme.
And on the tail of that thought came his pity for Draco. Patience had never been his godson's strong point. And so close to the full moon, due to rise tonight –
He sat up straight in his chair, so fast it hurt his neck, eyes wide and staring unseeingly ahead.
And in that moment, useless Dark Mark or not, he knew Lupin's fate.
xxx
Draco considered himself a saint. A saint!
He had tapped into every reserve of tolerance, compassion and affection he had for the bloody Boy Who Lived in this last week, but Merlin help him, his nerves were fraying thin. How Potter's famous sidekicks had seen him through five years of previous crises without losing their minds, he'd never know, because he was barely lasting the week. He was almost – almost – developing something verging on respect for Weasley, just thinking it.
Oh yes, now he recalled the Suicidal Saviour from earlier this year. Well, he'd made his unwelcome reappearance, and Draco didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do to make it better. He was hardly the comforting type, after all...
Besides, what did one do or say to comfort someone like Harry?
The boy took 'troubled' to a new level. With anyone else, Draco would have long given up and condemned them to their own melodrama. He was sick of running into a panicked Granger half an hour before curfew, only to realise that between them they'd once again lost track of the git. And then – oh, the fun part – he got to spend his late evenings scouring castle grounds, usually to find the Gryffindor out by the lake – the lake! – sodden and freezing and ridden with teenage angst.
And then there were the flashes of temper that came when Draco was least expecting them. It occurred to him, during the second vicious round of name-calling that broke out between them sometime around Thursday, in which Potter informed him that he was a cold-hearted prick with the emotional range of a rock, and he retaliated by calmly suggesting the Wizarding Hero go cut his wrists and be done – it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't quite as equipped to be a one-man support system as he might have liked.
Which had led him here.
Merlin help him, if this didn't speak volumes of his commitment to the ungrateful bastard, he didn't know what would...
Directly across from him, Weasley glared gormlessly. God. Even with his promise to be civil, he couldn't help sneering at the moronic expression of the other wizard. Granger cleared her throat sharply, obviously a reprimand, but he ignored her and looked away, disdainful.
The three had taken seats at the back of the library, fairly inconspicuous to anyone who might pass by. Draco still couldn't believe he'd agreed to this, yet here he sat, finally a member of the infamous Trio, and how he hated it...
"I trust you left him somewhere your housemates can keep an eye on him?" he drawled at length, glancing at Granger.
It was Weasley who spoke up – uninvited, he might add. "He's not a mental case, Malfoy. The way you say it, anyone'd think he's ready to jump off the Astronomy Tower..."
Grey eyes narrowed. "I know you can be excessively slow on the uptake, but hasn't it dawned on you yet that Harry exhibits classic signs of depression –?"
The witch among them leaned forward, cutting across him. "Stop it, both of you," she hissed. Then, calming, she continued, "I left him with Ginny, Neville and Luna, and he's got Quidditch practice in a little while. Ron will be with him then, and this evening I'll –"
"I don't believe you're scheduling this," Ron muttered, his chin resting heavily in his palm.
"I don't believe we're depending on you," Draco retorted snidely, earning himself an insulting hand gesture, to which he raised a dismissive eyebrow.
Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Okay. The thing is... I think we're going to have to face the fact that... well, it's very possible Remus won't be coming back."
The Slytherin fought not to show any reaction, even as the wolf in him pricked up its ears and whined, grieving the loss of its pack leader.
"None of us were as close to him as Harry," she went on, oblivious to the werewolf's darkening mood, "but it's obvious he's taking this as hard as he did Sirius's death. Ron, you saw him last time..."
The redhead slumped. "Yeah... But we didn't know how to pull him out of it then. What makes it any different now?" He snorted in cynical amusement. "Hope you're not counting on Malfoy's healing presence..."
Draco resisted the urge to kick the other under the table, but just barely. Still, the idiot did bring up a point, though it would be hard to communicate with him sat there.
He stared at Granger until she realised he was trying to get her attention. "You do realise I'm not going to be much help for the next three days?" he asked pointedly, confident that the redhead wouldn't pick up on what he was implying even if he'd worn a neon sign.
She nodded, understanding his meaning. With the transformations so close, he barely had the self-control to keep himself in check during everyday situations, his temper usually strained to the limit. Arguing with Harry, or fretting uselessly whenever he disappeared off on his own, would tip him over the edge. He'd happily booked himself into the isolation of his room until the full moon had ended, which unfortunately meant he wouldn't be traipsing out to the lake at half eleven just to drag the Gryffindor back inside.
This was the reason he'd caved and agreed to cooperation with these two. There had to be someone he could rely on to keep Potter in check while he was incapacitated – and while he wouldn't trust Weasley to do the job in a million years, Granger was just anal enough to depend on.
"What do you mean, you're not gonna be much help?" the redhead suddenly demanded, scowling. "I knew you couldn't really be bothered with –"
"Oh, grow up, Weasley! If I 'couldn't be bothered' do you actually think I'd be subjecting myself to your company?"
Hermione sighed and saw the meeting rapidly going downhill. The only reason they were here was to try and sort out a method of taking care of Harry, but it didn't seem they could work together at all. But then, what had she expected, putting Ron and Draco in the same room together...?
She glanced at the Slytherin, just in time to see his expression flicker in anger. She caught a glimpse of ice-white eyes before he looked away, vicious.
It surprised her to realise she felt sympathy for the boy. It was obvious he was out of his depth, trying to deal with his clueless mate's grief without any idea where to start. At least she and Ron had reasonable experience in this kind of situation. She supposed he was doing the best he could, with the inadequate emotional skills Lucius Malfoy had left him with.
"Okay, I think we're done here," she said abruptly, standing up. She glanced at the blonde and nodded. "He'll be fine."
Draco sneered. "It's only three days, Granger. He'd better be." And with that, he left them, stalking out of the library with haughty dignity.
Ron turned to her. "What's so important about the next three days? Do you know something I don't?"
She shrugged evasively. "No idea. Maybe it's – Oh. I think I've lost an earring. You can't see it, can you?"
She watched as the redhead obediently peered under the table and decided that that had been the worst change of subject she'd ever thought up.
Especially since she wasn't wearing earrings.
xxx
A few miles away, at the borders of the quaint little wizarding village of Hogsmeade, the first cracks of multiple Apparation rang out, muffled by the frost and mist that hung in the air. Quickly, the deserted space outside the Shrieking Shack filled with dark robed wizards, so fast that, even if the Hogsmeade inhabitants had noticed them appearing, they would never have been in time to do anything...
xxx
Harry felt as if something had struck him between the eyes. He gasped and clapped a hand over his forehead, where pain exploded like little stars behind his eyes. Distantly, he was aware of Ron grabbing his arm to keep him upright, and babbling worriedly in his ear, but the words didn't reach him.
Images were unfolding in the depth of his mind, the vision he'd been willing and waiting for since Remus left.
xxx
Severus fretted, indecisive for once in his life.
What was he supposed to do? Tell Dumbledore? What, exactly, would he say? All he had were guesses, speculation, a vague theory based on the belief that he could predict the motives of the Dark Lord.
But it made sense. With uncanny intuition, Severus knew – he knew – why Lupin had been Marked, why he had been taken, and what was due to happen these nights of the full moon.
And if he told them, and they believed him, what then? What would they do? What could they do?
Before he could waver any more on the subject, the fireplace flared emerald. It didn't startle him. With a sense of resignation, he turned towards it to see Minerva peering out at him with wide, dark eyes.
"Severus. There's word from Hogsmeade, it's –"
"Under attack," he finished for her, emotionless.
She blinked. "Wha– How did you know?"
"The Mark," he answered shortly, and while it was true it had started to burn about twenty minutes ago, he'd known before even that.
"Well, Dumbledore is calling for members of the Order to meet in his office. See to your House first, Severus, make sure they remain in their common room until further notice. In a few minutes, the Headmaster is shutting down the Floo network, all but his own fireplace. The school is in lockdown."
He nodded to show he understood and watched her disappear, the hearth going cold and dark in the absence of the green flame.
For long moments, he stood frozen where she'd left him, struggling with himself. His loyalty to Dumbledore – not to mention sheer common sense – urged him to go about his duties as Minerva had instructed him. He should be checking on his Slytherins. He should be meeting the rest of the Order, listening to the plan of defence being set out for them.
But...
He clenched a fist and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.
This was why Lupin had been Marked. The Dark Lord had probably never really trusted him, merely seeing him as a weapon. He would be there tonight, no doubt against his will, but there nonetheless. And if Severus knew anything of Death Eater tactics, they would not have allowed him Wolfsbane. They would let him transform, mindless, and loose him on the village.
It was a terrorist stunt.
It would be left up to the Order to stop him, if they could. What lengths would they go to? Would they be prepared to kill or capture?
Would they have a choice...?
But...
Moving automatically, he hurriedly shed the heavy outer robe that tended to hinder in the midst of battle, making sure to slip his wand into the sleeve of the black shirt he wore underneath. Then, tying his hair back, also for efficiency, he made for the door.
However, he paused once there, hand gripping the handle too tightly.
Was he prepared to be part of the Order tonight, knowing what they would have to do? He'd always prided himself on being able to do what was necessary, however horrible, however unpopular, however objectionable. He should be hardened to this. Hadn't he preached to Lupin himself about the sacrifices of war?
But...
Turning back, he went swiftly to the shelves at the back of his room, grabbed a vial of potion and jogged out into the hallway, door slamming closed behind him.
xxx
Blissfully unaware of the panic that had suddenly gripped the school, hidden away in his private room where no one had yet thought to warn him, Draco swallowed the last of his Wolfsbane with a grimace and set the cup down, returning to the book he only ever took out when he was feeling particularly sorry for himself. He was just at the part where Mr Darcy first set eyes on Elizabeth Bennet...
He jumped despite himself when the portrait door was thrown open, looking up in surprise to see Harry ducking into the room, radiating urgency. The Slytherin blinked, his first inane thought being to question why the Gryffindor wasn't down at the Quidditch pitch, as Granger had said he would be.
Then he noticed the blood.
He was on his feet in a second, practically pinning the other boy to the wall in his insistency to examine his forehead, where the lightning bolt scar stood out in violent red.
"What happened?"
Harry pushed away the concerned hands impatiently. "Vision," he muttered. "Draco, Remus is still alive."
It took the Slytherin a second to absorb the information. He stared wordlessly for long moments, then shook his head. "You're sure?"
"Yes," he said quickly, even while bracing against the guilty clench of his stomach. Sure. Sure in the same way he'd been sure Sirius needed him last time...
Still, he couldn't take the chance. And what was there to lose anyway, with Remus already gone?
"We have to go. We have to go now, I've got to do something!"
Draco reached out and grabbed the other's shoulders, trying to calm him until he could figure out what was going on. "What are you talking about?"
"They're attacking Hogsmeade –"
"What?"
"Right now! And they've got Remus with them. Draco... he doesn't have Wolfsbane."
The blonde went motionless as the situation dawned on him. He stared at wide green eyes, and immediately saw the intent behind them.
"You are not going down there on some... some rescue mission!" To emphasise his words, his grip tightened until he saw the Gryffindor wince and try to pull away. He didn't relent.
"Let me go. I came here because I trusted you'd understand!"
Draco looked incredulous. "You can't expect me to endorseyour moronic heroics!"
"I expect you to help me!" With an effort, he freed himself with a shove to the blonde's chest. "Don't you care? They're going to make him attack innocent people!"
"That doesn't mean you have to –"
Harry didn't even let him finish. He turned away, back towards the portrait, pushing it open a crack and peering into the hallway. He hadn't had the chance to stop by his common room to grab Cloak or Map, which was the only reason McGonagall hadn't collared him yet. He was going to have to risk getting to one of the secret passages on his own, without the use of either item.
That had been why he'd stopped here, instead. No, he didn't want to drag Draco into battle, but he would have liked to employ his werewolf senses, just until he got free of the castle. It would have made being caught so much easier to avoid.
Seeing the coast was clear, he made to step outside, but the werewolf's iron grasp closed on his wrist.
"Potter, don't you dare walk away from me like this!"
He was yanked backwards and spun around, Draco's hold encircling him and pinning his own arms to his sides, not allowing for movement. The Slytherin's chin rested on his shoulder, staring past him, so when he spoke, his voice was right next to Harry's ear.
"You are not disappearing out there on your own. You could get yourself killed! I know damn well you have a hero complex, but for Merlin's sake –"
"Draco..."
The blonde ignored him with difficulty. "You know I could make you stay here, even if it means I have to do this for however long it takes!" He tightened his hold almost painfully.
Harry didn't try to struggle. "I could make you let go," he said simply, and waited for the reaction.
Draco's nails scratched at his back possessively. "You said you wouldn't use the compulsions!"
"This is different! This is important!"
"Fuck!" In frustration, he pushed the Gryffindor away as hard as he could. Forgetting werewolf strength, he sent him slamming into the wall, where he groaned in pain.
Harry caught himself before he fell, and sent a lethal glare at the blonde. "Fine," he spat, and tried again to exit.
Draco stared after him in furious indecision. He wanted nothing more than to do exactly what he'd threatened – forcefully haul his mate back here and, if he had to, sit on him till he was rid of this ridiculous notion. But he couldn't, because the compulsions made it impossible. He still couldn't disobey a direct order from the other boy, as Harry well knew.
But that meant the only other option was to go with him. To willingly walk into danger. To put his precious self at risk for someone else's benefit!
He was a Malfoy! And a Slytherin! Neither of whom would do anything so stupid if they had an alternative. And...
Deny it all he liked, deep down, he was a bit of a coward. And when he said 'a bit'–
Oh for Merlin's sake. Throwing sensible thoughts such as these to the wind, he hurried to catch up.
The Gryffindor had stormed out of the room and halfway along the hall, without any real idea of where he was going, before he realised Draco had followed him every step of the way. Turning on the other boy, he folded his arms and demanded harshly, "What?"
Grey eyes regarded him coldly. "I'm coming with you, what do you think? If nothing else, you'd run into Filch in five minutes without me." Then, calmly, he strode past.
Harry bit back an insult as he stalked after him. "You don't have to –"
"Don't even finish that sentence, Potter. At least give me that much respect." The blonde curled a lip self-deprecatingly. He couldn't believe he was not only allowing this idiocy, but aiding it as well. Still, what choice did he have, really? It was this, or let the git charge to his death all alone in the name of nobility.
At least this way, he had a thoroughly pissed off werewolf at his side. Good a defence as any, Draco privately thought.
Harry hurried to catch up, and tugged the Slytherin to the right when he would have taken the wrong turning. "We'll take the secret passage into Honeydukes," he explained. "It's this way."
"...Secret passage? How in hell do you know a secret passage?"
"Remind me to tell you some time."
They went on in silence, Harry throwing cautious glances at Draco whenever he thought the Slytherin wouldn't notice. Draco, for the most part, was busy straining his werewolf hearing to the limit, trying to make sure they weren't about to run into some professor rounding up stray students. The school unnerved him like this. Still light outside, and yet completely deserted, the silence resounding too loudly in his ears.
"...I have to do this, y'know," the Gryffindor murmured at length.
His companion didn't respond.
"I have... I just... I don't expect you to go any further than you need to. I don't want you hurt as well as Remus, so you can stay here and tell Ron and Hermione –"
Draco, having not paid the slightest bit of attention to what was being said, suddenly threw an arm out, catching him across the chest and knocking the breath from him. Before he knew what was going on, he'd been dragged behind a suit of armour and had the Slytherin pressed up against him, frantically making hushing gestures.
Soundless, he mouthed, "Someone's coming."
They froze and tried to listen, Harry wishing they had something more to hide behind than the inadequate armour. At first he didn't hear anything, but it wasn't long before he, too, heard the hurried footsteps rapidly approaching, and the barely audible whisper of voices.
He noticed Draco frown with something like confusion a second before one of those voices hissed loudly, "Harry?"
Slowly, they peered out into the hallway. No one was there.
Again the voice came. "Harry! Look, Ron, there they are!"
The Gryffindor blinked, perplexed, until he caught a flicker of movement, and two figures seemed to materialise from thin air. Ron stood holding the Marauder's Map, and next to him was Hermione, the Invisibility Cloak over one arm.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded as soon as it dawned on him they must have come looking for him.
Hermione glared at him. "I knew you'd do something like this! As soon as we heard I went to check the Map, and there the two of you were, sneaking about the halls! And you!" She turned on Draco. "What, may I ask, happened to keeping him in check?"
The blonde almost choked on indignity. "I'll have you know I physically tried to stop him!"
"That's working well for you, I see!"
"Oh, and what would you know, Granger? Not like you've ever helped him in one of these ridiculous schemes, right?"
"This is entirely different!"
Caught up in watching the argument and wondering how he was going to drag the pair apart before they made too much noise and got them caught, Harry barely noticed Ron sidle up next to him until he was elbowed in the ribs. "Oy, look at this."
He glanced at the redhead, noting the suspicious frown he wore, and then down to the map he held, and where he was pointing. After a moment, he frowned as well.
"You two. Come here."
Hermione and Draco turned with identical glares, annoyed at being interrupted in what they felt was a reasonable debate. Finally though, with ill grace, they gathered round and all squinted at the map – the Slytherin showing only a brief moment of surprise at such a creation – to see the tiny dot labelled Severus Snape moving towards the castle's exit.
Hermione frowned. "What's he doing? All the teachers are in Dumbledore's office, or with the students..."
Ron grunted. "Knew it! The git really is a Death Eater! Bet he's off to join them!"
Draco sneered at him. "Don't be stupid, Weasley, he's not –" He stopped abruptly, eyes widening. "Oh my God."
"What's wrong?"
The Slytherin turned wide, incredulous eyes on Harry. "He's as insane as you!"
"What...?"
"He's actually... I don't... He's going after Lupin!"
They stared at the map in silence, the import of Draco's words slowly filtering in.
"That can't be right..." Ron muttered eventually, shaking his head. The idea of Snape doing a good deed, especially one they themselves were contemplating, skewed the natural order of things, in his mind.
The Slytherin watched the dot that represented his godfather as his thoughts raced. "Harry, where's the passage you were talking about?"
It was indicated, three floors up and half a school away.
Too far. Especially if they intended walking the whole way to Hogsmeade. No, he had a better idea.