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Summary
Severus looked both annoyed and impressed. “How did you find out what he was, anyway?”
“I recognized the scars,” Draco answered. “I lived with Fenrir Greyback for a while." He put one hand on his forearm, and it stung with a phantom pain; Severus's eyes steadily widened.
“Can’t tell anyone,” Draco said, although the warning was more cursory than a threat.
“Of course I won’t!” Severus said, voice shrill. “You - oh my god - I thought I - was the only-”Stopping Voldemort, years in the past, was one thing.
Brewing wolfsbane for his alive (not dead! Not yet Draco's fault!) cousin-in-law was another.“What are the ingredients for Wolfsbane, Mister Draco?” Professor Hopkins asked, and Draco said nothing. “Of course, there’s no penalty for not knowing. This potion is still highly experimental, and I would hardly expect it in the curriculum for, well, another twenty years.” She winked, like she was subtle.
Sirius whipped a glare over his shoulder until James dug an elbow in his ribcage. Remus whispered, over the rustling of book pages, “You made me forget to be afraid of myself.” Draco’s left arm burned like a cruciatus fire.