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Draco picked up the day’s copy of The Daily Prophet, his stomach sinking as he saw the headline. More attacks. That would make five in the past two weeks.
It had all began about six months ago. The attacks started off slow and at first no one could figure out who or what was doing it, or why. Draco saw the pattern though, and it scared him. The attacks were centered on former Death Eaters and most of the victims died, bloody and horrible. He knew it was only a matter of time for him.
He didn’t want to go out that way. He didn’t want to go out at all, really, but he knew he was lucky to have survived as far as he had. The war had been terrible and he should have by rights died in it, if not before then. The Light side wasn’t happy with him, and the remaining former followers of the Dark Lord even less so.
That was a big reason why he hadn’t left the Malfoy manor much in the past few years. He’d been on house arrest after his Wizengamot trial, but that had only lasted a year before they decided he wasn’t a threat. After that, he just hadn’t wanted to cause waves or get into any sort of trouble. It was lonely in the house with his parents in prison, but at least it was safe.
There were, of course, still the occasional errands to run that the house elves couldn’t take care of. It was in some ways nice to get out into the world and see other people, but it was still a risk. He tried to avoid being noticed, being recognized, if only to stop the dirty, distrustful looks he got. The only times he really felt comfortable being out was when he went to the forest near the manor to gather something for a potion.
Which was exactly what was on his agenda for the evening. Though after reading the article in The Daily Prophet, he wasn’t feeling very happy about that particular errand. He’d just have to keep his wits about him and be prepared.
***
The forest was silent, maybe too silent. No matter how he strained his ears, Draco couldn’t hear even the whisper of a breeze or of any animal life. It made cold shivers run up and down his spine, but he pressed on. He had to get what he’d come for or he’d have to wait another month to finish this potion, and he really didn’t have the time for that.
The flowers he’d come to pick were right where he’d thought they would be, glowing a quiet blue in the gloom of the forest. He picked them carefully and tucked them into the satchel he’d brought just for this purpose, still alert for any sound of danger. His wand was tucked under his arm, hopefully easy enough to get to if he needed it, but out of his way for now.
The attack came without a warning or sound. Between one second and another, Draco went from plucking a particularly bright flower to sprawling face down in the midst of them. Dirt and shredded vegetation filled his nose and mouth and eyes as he scrambled to get up and find his wand, a sharp line of pain across his back letting him know he’d been injured.
He clamoured to his feet, gritty eyes searching for his wand amongst the smash flowers while he simultaneously tried to locate his attacker. Low growls filled the no longer silent forest and Draco knew without a doubt that whoever or whatever had attacked those other former Dark wizards had come for him, but he still couldn’t find the source of the noise. It seemed to come from all around him, raising the hairs on the backs of his arms and making him wish with every fiber of his being that he hadn’t come out tonight.
He finally found his wand, grabbing it in one white-knuckled hand and immediately getting into a defensive position, ignoring the way his body ached from the first attack. He wasn’t sure what he was up against, but he knew he had to fight with whatever he had if he wanted any chance of surviving.
There was no way for him to see the next attack coming, and in only moments he was on the ground again. This time, though, he was really hurt. His entire left arm felt like it was on fire, and when he tried to push himself up, he was almost sick with the bright burst of pain the movement triggered. It was all he could do to just lay there, blind to everything but the terrible, burning pain. He could feel warm blood dripping down to the ground, quickly growing sticky in the cool night air.
Eventually he came to his senses enough to realize that the growling had gone away at some point and he was miraculously still alive. Not for long if he didn’t do something about the wounds he’d sustained, but at least the creature hadn’t killed him outright. It probably expected him just to bleed out in the middle of the forest, which was still far too much of a possibility for his peace of mind.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed himself upright, careful to avoid jostling his injuries anew. Somehow his wand was still intact and close by, so he picked up as he made his stumbling way out of the clearing. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to use it even if he needed to, but it was comforting to have it.
Now he just had to make it back to the manor.
***
Draco woke to bright sunlight coming through the window directly into his eyes. He moaned, still groggy, and rolled over before jolting back and letting out a hiss of pain as he landed on his injured arm. More than awake thanks to that, he carefully moved to a sitting position, cradling his injured arm to his chest to prevent touching it to anything else.
He’d gotten back to the manor very late, or very early depending on how you looked at it. His sojourn through the forest had been almost more than he thought he could take, injured and exhausted as he was, and he almost just gave up several times. The thought that he really didn’t want to die alone in the forest where no one would find him was the only thing that kept him going.
Somehow, though, he’d made it and the house elves remaining in the Malfoy family’s service immediately went to work trying to clean his wounds and patch them up. He’d told them adamantly that he didn’t want to be taken to St. Mungo’s. He didn’t want anyone else to know about his attack, and there’d be no way to keep it quiet if he went there for treatment. He’d just have to hope for the best at home.
And if he had an inkling that there might be something more to his attack than some wild animal, something that would make his condition being made public even worse, well, he tried to brush it off. He probably had a head wound, after all, and he just wasn’t thinking straight.
***
By the second week after the attack, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something wrong, very wrong. His wounds had mostly healed, leaving thick red scars that made him never want to take his shirt off, not that there was anyone around to see them. But he’d always been sensitive to his looks and this…
Draco shook his head. That wasn’t what he needed to be concentrating on. There were more important things to think about, like his craving for red meat and the way his bones ached in time with the passing of the moon overhead. He’d gone through every book in the house that looked like it might be useful, but he’d only come to one answer, the answer he’d been dreading since the moment he was attacked.
He was a werewolf.
It had been hard enough to be hated by wizarding society, and then to be scarred so horribly, but this, this was the worst thing he could think to happen to him short of death. Werewolves were hated creatures and the laws against them were harsh. He would be hated and feared wherever he went for the rest of his life.
Worst of all, he knew, or at least suspected, who was behind this. Fenrir Greyback had somehow eluded the Ministry after the Battle of Hogwarts and his disdain for betrayers was well known. It was more than likely that he’d seen any Dark wizards who hadn’t gone to Azkaban as betrayers and was attacking them in retaliation. If they didn’t die then they’d be werewolves like him, and he knew very well how werewolves were treated in society.
Draco felt like his world, already small and cramped and lonely, had come crashing down around him. What hope could he have of living his life in comfort now? He just couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. All he could do was keep moving forward and hope he could keep this a secret.
His best hope was the Wolfsbane Potion, though that of course wouldn’t do more than alleviate some of the full moon symptoms. Unfortunately, the potion was far above his skill level even though he’d come quite far since taking up a mail order potion business after the war. With Snape dead, his only real chance of getting the potion was through St. Mungo’s or a back alley seller.
And he only had a week until he’d need to start taking it. He’d better get started on his search.
***
The first few places he went were a bust. The first was not skilled enough to have the Wolfsbane Potion in stock, and the second’s skills were highly questionable, enough so that Draco wasn’t willing to take the risk. The third had the potion but was unwilling to sell it to a traitor such as himself. He couldn’t tell if they knew about how he’d come about his affliction, but it burned nonetheless to realize what a horrible place he was in, hated on all sides.
After that, it was difficult to find places within the country that might carry what he needed. His only real option before moving on to try his luck in France or Spain, which would likely take far more time than he currently had, was St. Mungo’s.
He went to the hospital late in the evening, hoping it would be empty enough that he could get what he needed without making it into the papers. That was exactly the thing he didn’t need, especially when he was currently so desperate.
The lobby had only a few people in it, most looking sleepy or too grief stricken to pay much attention to their surroundings. Draco passed them as silently as he could, immediately heading for the currently unattended reception desk. A sign next to it listed where everything was, including the Dai Llewellyn Ward for creature-induced injuries on the first floor. That was where he needed to go.
The elevator ride to the next floor was thankfully quick, and he stepped out into what seemed to be a mostly deserted corridor. Even better. This floor’s reception desk was on the opposite side of the ward, manned by a sever looking witch in her late fifties or so. She glared at Draco as he approached, but he wasn’t sure if it was because she knew who he was or she just didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Good evening,” he said pleasantly, even though all he wanted to do was sneer. “I wanted to inquire about getting a specific potion through the hospital.”
The woman looked unimpressed with his attempt at civility. “This is creatures, not potions,” she said, voice a monotone. “Try the third floor.”
“I know,” Draco replied, trying not to snap. This woman was trying his already frazzled nerves. “I need a potion for a creature-induced injury.”
“You don’t look injured,” she said, looking him up and down. “If it’s for someone else, you’re better off having them admitted and we can take care of them.”
“It’s for me, and I’d really rather not be admitted,” he said. He wanted to roll his eyes in frustration, but held back. He needed the potion, and if he had to play nice with this obnoxious woman to get it, then he would. “The injury is… delicate. I just want to purchase the potion and go.”
The woman looked at him for another long moment before sighing. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “What potion are you looking for?”
Draco took a quick glance around the ward to make sure there was no one else about, then leaned forward. “The Wolfsbane Potion.”
Whatever reaction Draco had been hoping for, it wasn’t that the woman would jerk back, hand going immediately to her wand. He could see the disgust rising in her eyes as she righted herself and slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that is now on the restricted potions list,” she said, voice just a little too high. “All werewolves must register with the Ministry, whereafter they will receive their monthly dose via a Ministry official.”
He should have guessed. Or at least looked up the current laws regarding werewolves since he’d mostly been out of the loop for the past few years. Really, he wasn’t surprised that they’d enacted stricter laws on werewolves after the war, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
“Of course,” Draco finally replied, smiling as non threateningly as he could. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
He turned sharply on his heel and headed for the elevator, hoping to get out quickly in case she decided to call security on him. That would just be the icing on this wretched cake.
He was almost to the elevator when someone came out of a cross corridor. The man was older than him by a handful of years at least and his red hair marked him rather obviously as a Weasley. Draco could only hope that the Weasley wouldn’t be any trouble for him, and even more that he wouldn’t suddenly start crying in front of the older man. That would be beyond humiliating, even if Draco rather thought it was an appropriate reaction to what he’d just learned.
“Draco Malfoy, right?” Weasley asked when Draco stopped beside him to wait for the elevator. He smiled when Draco nodded. “I’m Charlie Weasley.”
“A pleasure,” Draco said a little stiffly, not really sure why Weasley was bothering to introduce himself. It wasn’t as if their families were in any way friendly even after being on nearly the same side by the end of the war.
“Were you here visiting someone?”
“No,” Draco replied shortly, hoping the other man would get the clue to drop the conversation. When he glanced over, however, Weasley just smiled easily, apparently not bothered by Draco’s rudeness. The elevator opened a moment later, and Weasley motioned for Draco to step inside first.
“I was just dropping off some potion ingredients we collected at the dragon reserve,” Weasley said once the door had closed, like Draco had asked after him as well. “They use them for all kinds of things here, and we’ve got no use for them. Better that they can be made into potions to treat patients.”
Draco didn’t mean to respond, but there was something about the Weasley that just made him want to share his secrets, no matter how bad of an idea he knew that to be. “I was trying to get the Wolfsbane Potion,” he said quietly, staring straight ahead.
“I don’t guess they’d give it to you with the awful new Ministry guidelines,” Weasley replied equally quietly. Draco turned to look at him, surprised to see nothing more than calm attention, none of the fear or disgust he’d expected. And had he said ‘awful?’
“Yes, well, I’ll just have to figure something else out,” Draco said, feeling a little lost for words. This conversation wasn’t going anything like he’d thought it would. “Someone… someone is bound to still sell it.”
The door opened onto the ground floor and they stepped out. Draco hesitated, now unsure of how to proceed. Weasley had been kind, but that didn’t mean anything. They still weren’t anything to each other and Draco would be returning to the manor to figure out where to go from here while Weasley would probably be returning to his dragon reserve. There wasn’t really anything else to say.
“I can help,” Charlie said suddenly, making Draco whip around to look at him.
“What do you mean?” he replied suspiciously. The Weasley wanted to help him? That was just ridiculous.
“I can get you the potion, I have connections,” Charlie said, smiling placatingly. It was a smile that made Draco want to trust him, but he still wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. “My brother will have some connections since he has to take it as well, though not for as long as you will.”
His brother… Oh, the one who had been attacked during the war, Draco remembered. He hadn’t been turned into a werewolf, but there had obviously been some lingering effects.
“Alright,” Draco finally said, hoping he was doing the right thing by accepting help from a Weasley. It wasn’t like he had any other options at this point.
“Good.” Weasley smiled widely, and Draco felt an answering tug at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll come by your manor tomorrow. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
Draco could only hope he was right.
***
Draco slept badly that night and woke up exhausted. He tried not to take it as a bad omen of things to come, but it was hard not to what with things the way they were. It was nerve wracking to wait for Charlie Weasley to come around since he hadn’t said when exactly he would. And of course there was still the fear that Weasley couldn’t help him and then there was a whole day of waiting down the drain. That wasn’t good with the full moon looming so close on the horizon. If he didn’t start on the potion today, it would likely be too late.
A house elf brought lunch up at precisely noon, but Draco was so nervous he could hardly eat anything. His mind kept going round and round in circles of worry and fear and uncertainty which made his stomach feel like it was tied in knots. It was all he could do to swallow down a few bites.
Just as he was about to get up from the table and head to the library in hopes of finding distraction, a house elf popped in. “A guest is being waiting in the front entry for Master,” it told him, bowing low and wringing its hands.
Draco nodded. It seemed Weasley had come after all since no one else was likely to be visiting him. “Thank you,” he replied vaguely, already heading for the door. “I will go meet with him now. You can clean up the lunch mess.”
He walked the hallways toward the entry, stopping just before the door so he could take a deep, calming breath, wishing he’d taken a calming draught beforehand instead. It didn’t do much to calm his nerves, but he felt like he needed to try. It wouldn’t do to embarrass himself anymore in front of a Weasley than he already had.
“Thank you for coming,” Draco said as he walked into the entrance hall, hoping he sounded more confident and aloof than he felt.
“Of course,” Weasley said, smiling and stepping forward to shake Draco’s hand. In his free hand he held a small leather case. It was totally innocuous, but Draco couldn’t keep his eyes off it, wondering if Weasley had indeed been able to get his hands on some Wolfsbane Potion.
“Might we go somewhere and sit down?” Weasley asked after a few awkward moments of silence. He didn’t sound annoyed or anything, but Draco felt himself flush at his own lack of manners.
“Oh, yes, my apologies,” he said, trying to pull himself back together. He’d had enough training on behaving in social situations that he should have been able to do it in his sleep, but apparently the current situation made him forget all that. “Please, this way.”
Draco led the way into the sitting room between the front entry and the library. It was where his mother had liked to entertain guests, so bringing the Weasley there had been somewhat of a reflex. They sat in two of the plush armchairs set at an angle to one another.
Weasley put his bag on the table between them and carefully pulled out a vial of liquid, unstoppering it once he had it out. Almost immediately, the contents began to give off a faint blue smoke and Draco eyed it warily.
“It’s perfectly safe, I promise,” Weasley said, giving him a comforting smile. Draco rolled his eyes, mentally berating himself for being so easy to read. “I got it from the same source my brother does, and he’s never had a problem with it.”
“That’s-” Draco said, wondering how on earth he was supposed to react to this. The two of them barely knew each other, and had even less incentive to like one another, but Weasley had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to procure the potion for him. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“You won’t be thanking me once you’ve tasted it,” Weasley responded with a chuckle. Draco gave a lopsided smile. He had heard that it tasted disgusting. “And you don’t owe me anything.”
Draco frowned. “You can’t really be saying you tracked down the potion and brought it to me without expecting some sort of compensation.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Weasley said with a shrug. “You needed help and I had the means to provide it, simple as that. I don’t need anything else.”
“Right,” Draco said, still not sure if he believed the older man. He knew from experience that nothing was really free, but he was willing to drop the matter for now. “So… I suppose I should drink it then.”
Weasley nodded, so Draco leant forward to take the vial from him. It didn’t smell like much, which he supposed he should be thankful for. He took a deep breathe to ready himself and downed the entire thing.
“Blech,” he coughed, trying not to spit the potion back out. To say it was disgusting was an understatement, a severe understatement. It was the worst thing he’d ever tasted, and he’d had Severus Snape as a godfather so he’d been unfortunate enough to be subjected to a great many horrible potions as a child. “This is absolutely appalling!”
“So I’ve heard,” Weasley said with another chuckle. His grin only widened at Draco’s baleful glare. “Maybe you’ll get used to it?”
“Maybe I’ll spit it up all over you,” Draco muttered without thinking, then froze.
Thankfully Weasley seemed more amused than offended at his words, leaning over to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve had spit up on me,” he said, eyes glinting cheerfully. “Dragons, let me tell you.”
***
For the next six days, Charlie continued to come with doses of the Wolfsbane Potion. Draco hated having to rely on someone else to procure it for him, but Charlie had been adamant about not revealing his source. And oddly, after a few days, Draco found he didn’t even mind too much.
Charlie turned out to be far different than the siblings of his that Draco had been acquainted with in school. He was calmer, kinder, more even tempered, and always ready with a smile or laugh. He didn’t hate Draco on sight, which was what Draco had become accustomed to in the years after the war, and he never seemed to be put off by Draco’s attitude or words.
Against his own judgment, Draco thought he rather liked him.
It was odd to think that he was becoming sort of friends with a Weasley of all people, and it took a few days before he could even admit to himself that that was what was happening. He’d even started calling Charlie by his given name, which had been a bit of a shock to them both. Oh, if his father could see him now…
He shook his head. Better not to think about those sort of things, especially now. It was the night of the full moon and Charlie would arrive soon with his last dose of the Wolfsbane Potion. There was a lot to prepare before then.
Over the past few days, he’d been working on setting up a room in the manor that he could stay in during the full moon. Thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion, he would largely keep his faculties when he changed, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The room had been equipped with silver bars over the window, a pile of pillows and blankets to rest on, and a heavy silver lock on the door. He was planning on giving the key to one of the house elves to hold until he was ready to emerge.
He was in the room, putting the final touches on everything, when a house elf arrived with Charlie in tow. As the elf bowed out, Charlie glanced around, obviously curious. Draco hadn’t mentioned the room before, so it was likely very strange to see him in it now.
“It’s where I plan to spend tonight,” Draco said before Charlie could ask, a slightly bitter smile on his lips. “Glamorous, isn’t it?”
“You put up bars and a lock even though you’ve been taking the potion?”
Draco shrugged, turning to add a heating charm to the pile of pillows and studiously not looking at Charlie. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the look on the other man’s face. “I don’t… trust myself even with that,” he said quietly.
He heard quiet footsteps and wondered for a moment if Charlie had left. Instead, he felt arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him into a warm hug. He froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. Hugs had not been a very large part of his life growing up, and even less so in the past few years.
“Relax,” Charlie said into his ear, and Draco could feel the smile behind the words.
Draco took a deep breathe and allowed himself to relax, leaning back as his hands came up to wrap around Charlie’s arms. They stood like that for several minutes, breathes coming almost in tandem. Draco was surprised to find he liked the way he felt in Charlie’s arms.
Eventually Charlie let go and stepped back, and for a moment Draco wanted to call him back. It was a ridiculous feeling, he knew, so he just turned to face the older man, a small but genuine smile on his face. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie replied just as softly. “I have your potion if you want it now.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Draco said. He’d almost forgotten about that, but it wouldn’t do to miss his dose, especially today. There were only a few hours left until the moon began to rise after all. He took the potion, shuddering at the foul taste. It wasn’t one you just grew accustomed to apparently. “You should probably go. I’m going to lock myself in soon.”
Charlie shook his head, making Draco frown. “No, I think I’ll stick around,” Charlie said, voice lighter than Draco thought the situation warranted. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Charlie said, raising one hand to cut Draco off. “I want to do this, don’t you see? I trust you, even if you don’t trust yourself, and you should have someone more than a house elf here with you.”
Draco’s frown deepened, but he could tell Charlie was not going to be swayed. “Fine,” he snapped, feeling angry at Charlie for being so difficult and angry at himself for wanting the other man to stay despite the danger. “But I won’t be held responsible if you’re injured for being so bloody stubborn and staying.”
Charlie smiled. “Of course not.”
***
Draco blinked awake, grimacing as bright sunlight filtered through the barred window and hit his eyes. His whole body ached and burned, but he could remember everything that had happened in the night. The potion had worked.
With that thought, he turned and saw Charlie still asleep a foot away on the pile of pillows. He frowned a little, shaking his head. The other man had stayed the night in the room with him, despite Draco’s protests, and it really had turned out fine. Draco was even quietly grateful for having the company. It would have been a long night to spend alone.
He only wished he understood why Charlie had been so adamant about staying. They were something like friends now, sure, but Draco was quite sure none of his friends from Hogwarts would have been willing to stay the night with him as a werewolf. There had to be something else.
Draco heard a sound and turned his head to see Charlie just waking up, smiling when he saw Draco looking at him. Charlie pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his hair until it stuck up in all directions. Draco had to hold back a smile of amusement at how silly he looked.
“Morning,” Charlie said, yawning a little. “You feel ok?”
Draco nodded. “Much better than I thought I would,” he admitted. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to just push on. “Thank you for staying. I just wanted to know… why?”
Charlie smiled, eyes warm, and Draco fought the urge to duck his head, whether in embarrassment or something else he didn’t know. “You haven’t figured it out yet?” Charlie asked.
“Apparently not,” Draco replied, wondering what he’d missed. He couldn’t think of anything that would make Charlie insist on staying the night locked in a room with a werewolf. Personally, he didn’t feel like there was anything that would make a person want to do that, but apparently there was something.
Instead of replying, Charlie just leaned forward and pressed his lips against Draco’s. It took a moment for Draco to realize what was happening, but when he did, he would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy returning the kiss. Of course he’d noticed how attractive Charlie was and even entertained a few passing thoughts about something like this, but he never would have thought the other man would have felt anything for him. It was a little mind blowing.
They broke apart, panting a little, and Charlie leaned their foreheads together. Draco couldn’t keep the smile off his face, but he could see that Charlie was the same so he decided to not be bothered by that. It wasn’t like there was anyone else around to see anyway.
“Now do you understand?” Charlie asked playfully, leaving a tiny kiss on the tip of Draco’s nose.
Draco tilted his head, pretending to consider, then grinned. “I’m not sure,” he said, wrapping his arms around Charlie’s neck. “Maybe you should explain a little more.”
“That,” Charlie replied, returning the grin, “I can definitely do.”