Draco stood by the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, nervously tugging at a loose thread on the Medusa tapestry. Lovegood was even more insane today than usual, spinning around in those translucent robes. I wonder where she hides her wand...
The thread snapped. Shit. Draco tossed the scrap away and glanced at his pocket watch. 9:37 PM. Get a grip. He found a green thread again and pulled more carefully this time. The woven snakes on Medusa's head began to move, the thread unravelled, and the tapestry rolled up, revealing a dark staircase.
Glancing around the empty corridor, Draco stepped inside, lighting the way with his wand. He would quickly check this passage, visit Isobel in the Hospital Wing, and return straight to the dorm. Although he had no idea what he would say to Hermione when he got back. "Sorry I called you a slut" sounded... weak.
He continued down the stairs in complete solitude and silence. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for not being better. Sorry for not being a hero. I'll never be...
Draco's knuckles suddenly throbbed—he only now realized he had punched the curved stone wall. Shoving his injured hand into his pocket, he moved on. The air grew colder, and soon Draco opened a stone door leading outside.
An ominous full moon bathed the grass, trees, and the Thestral paddock near the oaf's hut in silvery light. Draco extinguished his wand light and crept along the outer wall. Leaves rustled, and gravel crunched underfoot. Grey clouds drifted overhead—exactly like the ones in Trelawney's scrying mirror. A vague unease gripped Draco—a feeling of vulnerability, of being lost, as if he were going the wrong way.
He pushed those thoughts aside and gently pushed open one of the castle doors, trying to be quiet. The desolate, grandiose entrance hall greeted him with silence. Corridor after corridor—and then he was at the doors of the Hospital Wing.
Semi-darkness. Only one bed near the window was occupied. Madam Pomfrey's silhouette was visible behind a screen—she was fussing over some younger student.
"I won't drink the potion!" the boy whined. "I'm not sick! I'll tell my parents, and you'll be fired!" Just pour the potion down the brat's throat, Draco thought gloomily.
He walked between the rows of beds, the barely audible tap of his boots on the stone floor drowned out by the sick child's whining. And finally, he saw her—Isobel lay with her eyes closed, her long hair shimmering in the moonlight. This is my fault. Draco touched her hand—it was warm, her pulse steady.
He stood over her for a few moments, but she didn't stir. Draco shifted nervously, ignoring his mother's voice in his head (Don't fidget, Draco). He needed to leave—Hermione was probably already in his bed like a live Howler, ready to explode if ignored.
Isobel's eyelids fluttered.
"D-Draco?"
"Yes," he replied. "It's me."
"Where's Justin?" she asked sleepily.
"I have no idea." Draco wasn't going to waste time on that Pompous Priss.
"Isobel..."
"We were working on a project," she yawned. Her voice sounded dreamy, just like Lovegood's. "A complicated problem. Justin kept talking about purity... but purity isn't always right..."
Draco rolled his eyes. That's news.
"Purity seems like strength, but in reality, it's weakness," she murmured, her eyes closing again. "It's better when there are layers, a solid core of..."
"Isobel..." Draco trailed off. Had she gone mad?
"Justin," she whispered. Oh, Salazar, not again.
"Draco," he corrected sharply, unable to help himself. "Don't waste your time on that idiot."
Isobel's eyes suddenly opened wide—her mind cleared.
"I find Justin to be a quite worthy choice."
"Sure, if you like pretentious bookworms who dream of getting into your pants."
She frowned.
"He'll require some re-education, of course. You boys were quite demanding at the party. Are all wizards like that? My friend Lucinda and I are planning to conduct a study."
Draco stared at the blonde witch. She was looking up at him and seemed so innocent without her glasses. Was Isobel really going to wander around the castle, surveying wizards about how they ask for a blowjob? Of course she was. Based on his experience with Ravenclaws, Draco estimated the probability at ninety percent.
"However, Justin has an utterly unreasonable approach to the research," Isobel continued. "He insists that we consider the degree of inebriation as a factor affecting boys' behaviour, but I believe that overly complicates the model. And Lucinda said it smacked of patriarchy."
"Listen, Isobel." Draco would have changed the subject even if he wasn't so desperately in need of information. "About yesterday's attack..."
Isobel stroked his hand, which was still resting on the blanket.
"It's alright, Draco, I know it wasn't you."
"Of course, it wasn't me," Draco said indignantly.
"Justin thinks it was you, but he's very biased, of course. I told him you're much less aggressive than people say." She patted his hand again. "You know, a little aggression wouldn't hurt."
"I'm sorry, but aggression harms people," Draco countered. "That's the whole point of aggression."
"Curious." Isobel's fingers twitched, as if she wanted to write it down.
"Tell me about the attack," Draco urged. The sounds made it clear that Pomfrey was about to subdue the cranky child and emerge from behind the screen.
"I wish I could." Isobel sighed. "I was double-checking Madam Pince's cataloging system notes—the disputes over the Potions and Herbology sections are still raging in botanical literature classification circles—when I heard 'poof'!"
She paused, staring at him owlishly.
"And that's it?" Draco asked.
"That's it. I woke up here, just in time for dinner. Justin brought shepherd's pie, but it had a disproportionate amount of peas." Genuine concern was reflected on Isobel's face. "I had to explain that I don't like an overabundance of peas—the ideal ratio to other vegetables is 1 to 4, and this pie had at least 2 to 4. Maybe it was a little rude, considering how hard Justin tries, but who knows how long we'll last? So many dishes contain peas—from salads to mushy peas with eggs, although the proportions, of course, vary..."
"For Salazar's sake, Isobel," Draco hissed. "I don't care about the peas!"
Isobel stroked his hand again.
"It's a shame Justin doesn't share your indifference. He seemed offended."
Draco barely restrained himself from clutching his head. It was time to end this pointless conversation. Isobel was clearly tired, and judging by the complaints about the potion's taste, Pomfrey had finally managed to give it to that annoying child.
"Isobel, if you remember anything—anything—let me know, okay?"
She nodded.
"I'll also tell Miss Granger." A smile appeared on her face. "Miss Granger is very suitable for you. Gryffindors adore hopeless cases."
"I am not hopeless!"
"Miss Granger said so too."
Draco stood up, ignoring the strange flutter in his chest at those words.
"I'm leaving," he said coldly. "When you're discharged, don't wander around the castle alone. And I don't care what research you're conducting."
"Justin said that too." She shook her head. "You are all so demanding. My research will surely reveal a correlation between..."
"That has nothing to do with..." Draco stopped, realizing he absolutely didn't want to continue this conversation. "Just be careful," he threw out and rushed out of the Hospital Wing, not giving Isobel a chance to say another word.
As soon as he reached the entrance hall on his way to the dorm (Draco decided to remain silent and look emotionally crushed while Hermione screamed), Potter dashed down the marble staircase—more disheveled than usual.
"Where did he go?" Potter stopped abruptly, breathing heavily. He was gripping his wand in one hand, and his long black cloak was unbuttoned.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
"Tennant Rowle! Who else?!" Potter exclaimed. "You were just with him!"
Draco noticed a battered piece of parchment in the Auror's other hand—Potter had the Marauder's Map.
"Where?"
"Near Myrtle's bathroom." Potter advanced on Draco, but Draco clenched his fists and didn't back down an inch.
"Myrtle's bathroom..." A cold sweat broke out on Draco. "Lovegood."
Draco remembered the witch without underwear dancing in the corridor, her unusually perceptive gaze. Salazar, he was a complete idiot. Lovegood had intentionally sent him to the Hospital Wing so that...
"Hermione!" Draco roared.
He shoved Potter aside and bolted out of the castle entrance hall, ignoring the Auror's shouts. Hurrying to the dungeons, Draco nearly tumbled down the stairs. Tennant had been lurking around the castle all this time—sometimes outside, sometimes in the secret Slytherin passages. That bastard had snuck back into the school to grab Luna (a pang in his chest at the thought) and transform into her. Potter had seen Draco's and Tennant's dots on the Map, but then they disappeared into the passages again. And there was that one secret descent from the second floor directly into the dungeon labyrinth...
Draco ran faster. Skimming past the Potions classroom and the Hufflepuff dungeons, he could already see the Slytherin common room entrance at the end of the corridor. Draco shouted the password, and the grille slowly slid up, clanging its elegant chains. He slipped under the sharp bars and scrambled back to his feet.
The Slytherins in the common room stared at him over their glasses. Theo and Blaise were playing Wizard's Chess, Daphne was laying out Tarot cards, and Millicent was sitting on the sofa with her black cat.
"Malfoy," Tracey said disgustedly. She stood by the fireplace in a long green silk robe, holding an empty leash. "What in Salazar's name are you..."
Draco ignored all of them and rushed into the maze of corridors, winding through the familiar tunnels. He flipped the cover of his pocket watch: 10:20 PM. Twenty minutes that Hermione spent alone with Tennant? A whole fucking eternity...
"Ophiophagus!" he shouted, and the narrow green door flew open. Draco burst inside, then blew open the bedroom door's protective charms with an exploding spell. The sight that greeted his eyes surpassed his worst nightmares.
Moonlight poured through the square bedroom windows. Hermione stood with her back to the fireplace, gripping a poker in her hand, her pyjama shirt torn. And in front of her... was Tennant and yet not Tennant. Draco stared in horror at the huge wolf the wizard had transformed into. Tennant Rowle really was a werewolf. A fact Draco had so confidently denied.
Fury overwhelmed Draco, and for the first time in his life, he yelled the Killing Curse:
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
But there was no green flash—that "oh-so-incredibly-powerful" dark wood wand did nothing!
There was no time for a second attempt. Tennant lunged, and without thinking, Draco jumped, shielding Hermione. A powerful blow from the poker nearly dislocated his jaw, and fangs sank into his shoulder, causing blinding pain.
"STUPEFY!"
It was Potter.
And then came the darkness.
"Draco! You're awake!"
Hermione's voice scraped his ears. He wanted to tell her to calm down, but his consciousness was foggy, his jaw was throbbing with pain, and his shoulder was burning.
"It's the pain," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry... the transformation must be agonizing..." Transformation? Draco tried to open his eyes, but his body refused to obey.
"Hermione..." he tried to say, but it came out as only "He-he-stinks..."
He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His forehead and cheek were burning.
"Draco!" her scream nearly deafened him completely. "I'll take you to the Hospital Wing, everything will be fine... there, we're here now. MADAM POMFREY!"
"Quiet..." he tried to whisper, but it came out as "Quee-et..."
"I know, I know, you're hurting. MADAM POMFREY!!!" Thanks for the headache. Draco heard quick steps and the rustle of starched skirts.
"Who's there? Peeves?!" the nurse's outraged voice rang out. "This is a medical facility! I'll complain..."
Draco felt himself being gently lowered onto something soft, but his eyelids still refused to lift.
"No, Madam Pomfrey, it's me!"
"Miss Granger? And this is... Mr. Malfoy!"
"He was bitten!" Hermione was now sobbing out loud. "Draco was bitten, Madam Pomfrey!"
Footsteps sounded again, and Draco heard a dull thud.
"BY THIS!"
"Oooooh... OH-OH!" Madam Pomfrey's voice was a mixture of shock and horror, and for a moment, Draco thought she was reacting to Hermione calling him by his first name. But then the words reached him, crashing down like a nightmare. I was bitten. Oh, Salazar... This will kill Mother.
"Now, now, don't despair," Pomfrey's voice regained its businesslike tone, and at least she wasn't shouting. Bitten. Draco's consciousness cleared, but he childishly squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, as if it could change reality. Now he was an animal... no, a monster. Sick. Dark. Feral. You tricked me, Tennant. I thought you were just Marked.
"Hermione, step back! Let Madam Pomfrey work!" Potter. What a gift from fate. At least Hermione sounded whole.
"Silver powder and star anise," Hermione commanded, as if she were the head healer here. "A concentrated mixture will seal the wounds."
Cold, rough fingers pulled off his jacket, shirt, and tie.
"Serious cut on the face," Pomfrey muttered. "Lost two molars. I hope he didn't swallow them. Severe bruising on his arm. I'll just get..."
Gentle fingers stroked his forehead, pushing a lock of hair back, and the world plunged into darkness again.
"He saved me," Hermione was saying.
The hand applying something cold to his shoulder froze.
"Mr. Malfoy saved you?" Madam Pomfrey asked again.
"Yes," Potter confirmed. "Hermione..."
"I'm fine," Hermione answered sharply. Quite loudly.
"Perhaps you should lie down, Miss Granger, you look a little..."
"Yes, Hermione, lie down..."
"I will not lie down!"
"Is that a bruise on your..."
"Harry, I'm fine." A bruise? Where? Tell me, Potter! Draco tried to open his eyes, but his body still wouldn't listen.
"But your neck..."
"Let me take a look, dear..."
"Keep applying the star anise!" Hermione shouted. Ouch. "I'm fine!"
"You're not fine," Potter said stubbornly.
"Madam Pomfrey, are Draco's wounds closing?" Hermione persisted. "Are you using enough silver? Star anise alone won't seal the wounds, you need to add enough silver..."
"Yes, dear, I'm using enough silver," there was irritation in Pomfrey's voice. Hermione knew how to get on people's nerves like no one else. "Actually, the bite..." What? What about the bite? Is anyone going to finish the damn sentence? Draco felt a tingling sensation in his shoulder, but the pain subsided, though his jaw still ached, and something wet was dripping into his eyes. The same rough fingers wiped his face, then gently stroked his forehead and left cheek. Werewolf. Draco's heart sank. He had seen werewolves at the Manor—hell, he had seen Greyback transform his victims. Those screams during the transformation... And that hungry look with which the werewolf watched him. Greyback liked young flesh. Had Draco escaped that fate during the war, only to now...?
"I need to contact McGonagall," Potter said. "And... shit!"
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione cried out.
"Look at the cuts on his face! And the bite mark! They're healing!"
"But they can't be healing!" Hermione shrieked, apparently deciding to plunge into uncontrolled Gryffindor hysteria. "These are werewolf wounds, cursed wounds! They stay forever, and Draco... oh, Draco... he's now..."
Her head buried itself in his chest, so her loud sobs were right next to his ear, and it became increasingly difficult to breathe. Finally, his eyelids fluttered, letting in painful shafts of light.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, "if you stop throwing yourself at my patient, I can..."
"No!" Hermione screamed. Knew there'd be a shriek. Draco sighed and tried to open his eyes again. The rays of light took shape, and he realized that his view was blocked by an enormous amount of curly hair.
"Hermione, look at him," Potter said quietly.
Hermione lifted her head and stared at Draco's face. Salazar, Draco thought, squinting, this witch looks completely insane. Is this her standard reaction to emergencies? Where is the fierce witch who confronted Tennant? How did her company even win the war?
"Draco! You've opened your eyes! Can you see?"
"Of course I can see," Draco tried to say, but his jaw was still locked with pain, and it came out as: "Ow oo ee."
"Follow my finger, Draco..."
"Miss Granger, if you would allow me..."
"I don't understand," Potter's voice sounded unexpectedly reasonable. "The werewolf who bit him is right here."
"Werewolf," Hermione whispered.
Suddenly left unattended, Draco turned his head, wincing in pain, and saw that Hermione, Potter, and Pomfrey had left him to cluster around Tennant's bed. Apparently, if you weren't already hairy and drooling, it was hard to hold people's attention. Draco looked at the moonlight pouring through the Hospital Wing windows, then at his long, pale hands. Had Pomfrey given him the wolf antidote along with the painkiller?
He couldn't see his roommate, but what he did see still looked very wolf-like. Was Tennant dead? Draco remembered his failed Killing Curse and clenched his teeth, which only increased the pain. What a colossal mistake—he was sure Tennant was only Marked, like that older Weasley. Unless... Carefully moving his injured shoulder, Draco glanced at the insensible wolf and wondered.
"Are you claiming that this is Mr. Rowle?" Pomfrey asked incredulously.
"Yes. Fenrir Greyback bit him during the war," Hermione replied. "Is there a way to determine if he really is a werewolf?"
"What else could he be?" Potter exclaimed. "Just look at him!"
"I know, Harry, but if Draco's wounds aren't cursed, then Tennant must be..."
"A-ni-magus," Draco whispered hoarsely. He choked, then spat out blood.
"Of course!" Hermione rushed to Draco, hovering over him again. Ouch—I'm injured.Ah, that's better now.
"What did he say?" Potter demanded. "Hermione, stop kissing him and answer me! I said, stop kissing him! Merlin, I'm going blind!"
"Miss Granger, really!"
Hermione let go of Draco to answer her friend, and Draco frowned. Her voice now sounded excited. And loud.
"Harry, Tennant isn't a werewolf, he's an Animagus!"
"That's extremely unlikely," Madam Pomfrey said, taking advantage of Hermione's distraction to clean the blood from Draco's mouth and heal his jaw.
"The DADA professor at Durmstrang, the one who was arrested? She was helping students become unregistered Animagi!" Hermione beamed. "Right, Harry?"
Draco tried to speak, but Pomfrey forced his mouth wide open and looked inside, illuminating it with her wand.
Potter frowned.
"You're saying that Tennant not only was bitten by Greyback, but also became an Animagus?"
Hermione nodded.
"I think the bite affected Tennant, even though Greyback wasn't transformed. No wonder Tennant's Animagus form is a wolf."
"That's crazy." Harry turned to the nurse. "Madam Pomfrey?"
"It's possible," Pomfrey said, closing Draco's mouth and shifting her gaze to the two beds beyond. A huge wolf lay motionless, its light brown fur matted with blood, four long paws dangling from the mattress.
"Oh yes," Hermione said, squeezing Draco's hand. "It's more than possible."
Draco gave her a faint smile without opening his mouth—his throat was so constricted it was impossible to speak. Maybe I'm not a monster.
"But still extremely unlikely," Pomfrey continued. "That wolf is simply enormous!"
"Well, finding out the truth is quite simple." Potter was standing by Tennant's bed again, wand ready. He looked at Hermione. "Remember Scabbers?"
Hermione took Draco's dark wood wand and joined Potter. The witch looked at Tennant and smirked.
"Grandma, why do you have such big ears?"
Potter laughed, and Draco and Pomfrey exchanged puzzled glances. The friends pointed their wands at the wolf.
"Reddo Hominem!" they exclaimed in unison.
A bright blue flash made everyone blink. The wolf's body began to stretch and expand, the fur shed, then disappeared completely until Tennant's massive body lay sprawled on the bed in nothing but black shorts. He was still unconscious.
"Merlin!" Pomfrey gasped.
"I need to inform McGonagall. She must come back." Potter raised his wand, bound Tennant with ropes, and cast a Full Body-Bind Curse for good measure. Then he walked over to Draco's bed.
"You saved Hermione today," he said. "You thought he was a werewolf, and still..."
"D-on't blab ab-out it," Draco muttered, holding his jaw. It was still swollen, and his tongue felt the painful gaps where his teeth had been knocked out.
"I'm definitely going to tell!" Hermione exclaimed. "People need to know!"
Draco winced.
"S-top."
"Oh no, do you have a headache?" Hermione began to massage his forehead, which actually only intensified the pain, but Draco said nothing. "And your poor jaw! I'm so sorry! Madam Pomfrey, bring some magical willow bark, it works great for..."
"Yes, Miss Granger, I'm perfectly aware of the medicinal properties of willow bark," Pomfrey replied dryly.
"LUNA!" Hermione suddenly shouted.
"Fi-nd he-r," Draco said to Potter. He hoped that with the departure of the Chosen Idiot, Hermione would finally calm down.
"Harry, check the Map..."
"I know, Hermione." Potter looked at them annoyed and left. His shout came from the corridor. "Expecto Patronum!"
Draco sighed with relief and closed his eyes. Hermione, thankfully, lowered her voice, arguing with Pomfrey about willow infusions. Animagi. Tennant was an unregistered Animagus. And that's why, Draco mused, I never trusted animals.