Winter's Flame

It was a night worse than any the Summer had so far seen. Thunder was crashing, lighting was flashing, and hailstones the size of quaffles were being flung from the skies. From deep within the Manor a bloodcurdling howl rung out and Draco shifted more into the corner of his bed. He was suddenly reconsidering the plan. For one thing, what did he really hope to achieve by setting a crazy monster loose inside his house? All that was going to happen was that Lupin would smash up some priceless heirlooms and Draco would be in danger of being eaten. He was also wishing that he'd thought to bring a sword into the room.
A roll of thunder burst outside, followed by a loud smash down the hall.
Down the hall? Draco thought, his eyes trying to peer through the solid stone walls. Holy shit.
For a fleeting moment he considered hiding under the bed, but pushed the traitorous thought from his mind. He was a Malfoy. Not a coward. No Malfoy had ever run from danger. Except, of course, for dear Great Uncle Herbert, the Bladderless Wonder of Calcutta. He was famed for wetting his pants at the least sign of trouble, and sometimes just because he refused to go to anyone's toilet but his own, which ended up in some very embarrassing situations. Needless to say, Herbert Euphonic Malfoy was disowned and spent the rest of his days rearing ostriches under the firm belief that they were llamas.
The smashes grew nearer, and Draco grew more worried. He was briefly grateful that pant-wetting wasn't passed down genetically, then forgot about it when there was a hammering at the door. He heard a heavy snort, then scratches at the wood. Draco clutched his wand tightly, longing to jump out the window on his brand new top of the range Shadow Spear and fly like there was no tomorrow, but his pride wouldn't allow him. Instead he forced himself to his feet and stood in front of the door, wand at the ready, his mind quickly sorting through every spell he had ever learned.
The clawing at the door became more urgent and he heard Lupin butting his head against the wood. The hinges began to grow askew and, as Draco looked on in horror, the door feel free and a huge brown wolf with murderous amber eyes and razor sharp teeth snorted at him.
"Serpensortia!" he flicked his wand and said the first spell that came to his head. And while it was one of his favourite spells, the cobra that slithered out of his wand was really quite inappropriate for the time and place. Especially when Lupin crushed it's head with one massive paw. He pounced for him and Draco just managed to throw himself sideways. Lupin slid into the side of Draco's bed, splintering one of the posts.
Seeing his chance, Draco ran out of the door as fast as he could. Luckily, thanks to Quidditch practice, Draco was extraordinarily fit and easily the fastest on the team.
Throwing pride out of the window, he slid down the banister, ever mindful of the snarling that was quite close behind. "Accio Shadow Spear!" he cried as he rounded a corner, but his broom didn't fly to him. With a sinking feeling, he remembered that it was in his cupboard. The cupboard that he always locked so that nobody else could get inside it.
I'm going to die, he thought as he rounded another corner. I'm going to get ripped apart by my super duper new legal guardian. Child welfare is not going to be happy.
Something that was either courage or foolishness born out of hopelessness suddenly flooded through his body, making his feet grind to a halt and spin around.
"Immobilous!" he called, pointing his wand at the frothing Werewolf.
Lupin's body locked and he stopped right in his tracks. Draco let out a sigh of relief, then swallowed it when he saw Lupin sneeze and shake his head, looking up at him with hate filled eyes. Suddenly Draco's mind flew back to a book he'd read once. Werewolves were immune to most magic.
Bugger, he thought wistfully as Lupin pounced on him, his paws pushing him down by the shoulders and pinning him to the floor. His head hit the stones with a crack and his vision blurred. The last thing he felt before the world went black was rows of daggers cutting into his shoulder.

Draco awoke alone in a pure white room. He felt awful. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed with the slightest movement.
He blinked slowly, forcing his eyes to focus, and then struggled up into a seated position. He was in a small room, completely unadorned. There was nothing but a small table beside his bed, a door and a window.
He rubbed his shoulder absently, wondering where he was and why he was wearing a ghastly white frock thing.
Looking about, he saw a button on the post of his bed and, as there was nothing else to do, he pressed it to see what would happen. And because he was feeling quite dopey having just woken up, he pressed it twenty-seven times more just for good measure.
"Yes?" a young man burst into the room several minutes later. "Are you alright? What's the problem?"
"Hello," Draco said pleasantly.
The man frowned. "Is there a problem?"
"There is, actually," he said. "Just a small one. I was just wondering where the hell I am and why I'm here."
The man looked down at the clipboard he had in his hands and his eyes widened. "You've only just woken up, haven't you?" he murmured "I should get the healer."
"Healer?" Draco's eyebrows went up. "I'm in St Mungo's?" Everything suddenly came flooding back and his hand shot back up to his shoulder. "I got bitten, didn't I?" he asked in an urgent panic. "That bloody Wolf bit me!"
The man stared at him sympathetically and nodded.
Draco looked at him for a long moment, not comprehending what that small detail really meant. It slowly dawned upon him. "You're not saying…"
The man nodded again, pity rearing it's ugly head in his eyes.
"No fucking way!" Draco yelled. "I'm not one of them! I can't be! Do you know who I am? Do you know what my father would do? No Malfoy was ever a monster! Not an actual one! Damn it, there's got to be a cure!"
The man looked alarmed. "I'm going to get the healer."
"Good! Get somebody in here who can help me!"
The man hurried out, colliding with Lupin who was just entering the door. Lupin looked like utter crap. His grey-brown curls were tangled, he looked thinner than usual and his golden eyes were filled with exhaustion and guilt.
"You bastard!" Draco screamed when he saw him. "You fucking bastard! ?"
But Lupin didn't answer. He couldn't tear his gaze from Draco's eyes.
"What?" Draco asked, his heart pounding with fear. "What? Do I look different? Did something change? What? What are you staring at? Tell me damn it!"
"Your eyes," Lupin whispered, his voice cracking.
Draco's eyes widened, and he jumped out of bed, tearing past Lupin and out the door, ignoring his calls for him to stay. He ran and ran, looking for some sort of mirror.
"Draco?" a small voice gasped to his left. He looked up and saw Neville Longbottom with his bird-like grandmother. "Are you alri-"
"Get away from me!" he howled, turning and running down a different corridor. Eventually he found a bathroom and pushed the door open, stumbling inside and leaning heavily on the sink. Slowly, he raised his head to look in the mirror. His hair had grown quite long over the holidays. It was hanging down in a tangled silver sheet to the top of his neck. His face looked gaunt and tired, black circles were under his eyes.
His new eyes.
No longer were they the stormy grey they'd always been, the fine steely silver that had always complimented his hair and cool expression. No, now they were different. A deep, smouldering golden yellow, not warm and friendly as Lupin's eyes were, but deep and dangerous, mysterious like Morgan's were, full of shadow but writhing with flames.
A horrified lump rose in his throat. He didn't even look like himself anymore. He was somebody else. A shaggy, golden eyed stranger. The lump grew, and a growl raised from the bottom of his stomach and erupted out of his mouth in a desperate cry. He slammed his fist into the mirror right over his eyes and shattered it into a million tiny shards. He ignored the blood that dripped over the glass and into the basin. Tears ran down his face as he slid to the ground and curled up in a frightened ball. He stayed that way until they found him an hour later and took him back to his room.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Lupin was saying. "I just don't know what happened…"
Draco knew what happened. He was stupid enough to let some unknown girl swap his potion. God, how stupid could he have been? Sure she was there to bloody help him. Now he was a Werewolf. A monster. Everyone would hate him, avoid him. Stare at him. Life wasn't really worth living, come to think about it. What did he have to look forward to? Years of unemployment, thanks to his father supporting that Anti Werewolf Legislation of Umbridges. He couldn't even rely on the family name since all bearing they used to have had gone down the toilet. And he couldn't even hide the fact that he was different because his name had already gone down on the bloody international Werewolf registration. And everybody at school would notice the small fact that his eyes had dramatically changed colour. And his middle fingers were suddenly disproportionate to the rest of them. That little detail he could hide. And maybe even the slinking off once a month to have a bit of a howl at the moon. But not the eyes. Nobody could or would ignore that. He was doomed.

Draco spent a good part of the next week staring at the wall. And Lupin spent all of the week at the boy's side. They didn't speak. They just sat. Draco was still mad as all hell at himself for being sweet talked by a pretty face, and Lupin was mad as all hell for having mixed up his potion and not done something right. On a lower level, one that he wasn't entirely aware of, Draco was grateful for Lupin's presence. His father probably wouldn't have stayed with him. He'd have visited, of course. Once, to find out what the problem was. And then he'd disown him when he found out that his son had become one of the two things that Lucius hated. One being Muggles. The other being Werewolves.
And Draco didn't exactly have friends. He had followers. But that, when you come to think of it, is an entirely different thing. Followers either feared or respected you. They rarely actually liked you. He didn't have anyone that he trusted enough to tell, and in exactly one week he had to be on the Hogwarts Express. Thing's weren't looking good.

Draco was allowed to return to the Manor two days later, no longer looking emaciated but once again returned to his handsome healthy self. A young nurse had been kind enough to tell him that his lengthening hair was actually quite trendy, so he was holding off having it cut, and his muscles no longer hurt when he moved. On the upside, the muscles in his arms had actually miraculously increased somewhat, and he was still in that boyish stage of flexing them whenever he was near a mirror or window.
The one thing he still hadn't grown used to were his eyes. They still threw him completely. When he looked in the mirror it was as if somebody else was staring out.
"So," Lupin yawned as they relaxed in the study. "When do you want me to take you Diagon Alley?"
Draco snorted. "Why the hell would I want to go there?"
"School supplies," Lupin pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. "I received the letter yesterday. It's good thing you're rich, is all I can say."
Draco scanned the letter, then threw it aside. "I'm not going back."
Lupin frowned and looked over at him. "Why not?"
Draco raised one perfect silver eyebrow and pointed his middle finger at his eye. While anyone else may have thought that Draco was giving them the finger, Lupin understood immediately. "Ah."
"Yeah. Ah."
"You do realise, Draco, that I spent seven years at Hogwarts without anybody finding out about me," he said reassuringly. "Except for three of my friends and Severus Snape."
"You were friends with Professor Snape?" Draco asked, surprised. "I thought you hung around with Gryffindor's."
"He wasn't a friend. He hated me and my friends. But it just so happened that one of my friends told him to go somewhere on a certain full moon."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Fair enough. But you were already a Wolf before you came. Everybody's going to notice that my eyes have suddenly changed colour and my finger grew half a centimetre."
Lupin smiled and pulled his chair around to he could face Draco, the boy doing likewise. Something had happened during those long days and nights of silence. Draco found he just couldn't hate him anymore. Not that he was going to run out and renounce Voldemort and buy a Muggles Rights button.
"Here's what you do," Lupin said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Ignore the finger. There's nothing you can do about it and if anybody asks, just look at them strangely. Chances are, nobody will think about it. If worse comes to worse, you could ask Professor Dumbledore to put an ignoring spell on it."
"No," he said immediately. "I'll be right."
"Second, the eyes. They don't look bad, really. That nurse told me that she thought they were cute." Draco smiled. "The only problem is that they're so different to the old colour. So all you need to do is tell people that you had a permanent colour charm put on them."
"Me?" he scoffed. "A colour charm? That's for girls and extremely effeminate guys. Poufs, too."
Lupin grinned wolfishly, and Draco fleetingly wondered if his grins would be described as wolfish from now on. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. "Together with the long hair and the muscles, I'd say it's perfectly acceptable to use a change of image as an excuse."
"Well what about Longbottom?" he asked. "He saw me running and screaming like a headless chicken at St Mungo's."
"I know Neville," Lupin shook his head. "He wouldn't say anything."
"Good."
"The only person who you'd have to worry about…"
"Granger," Draco said with perfect distaste.
"She picked me in an instant," Lupin smiled wryly. "Nice girl, but far too intelligent."
Draco snorted.
"But as she doesn't spend much time with you, she shouldn't be too much of a problem. So," Lupin leaned back. "When do you want me to take you Diagon Alley?"
Draco grinned wolfishly. "Tomorrow?"
Lupin smiled.

Draco eyed the fireplace suspiciously. "Do we really have to floo?"
"How else do you propose we get there?" Lupin asked, running his slender fingers through the powder. "Fly?"
"Might be an option," he muttered. "It's cleaner."
Lupin laughed. "You're worried about a bit of soot?"
"Well excuse me if I don't like to look like a chimneysweep."
"You can nip into the bathroom and clean yourself up. It's not that big a problem, Draco." He held out the ornate silver pot, and Draco looked at it. "I thought Werewolves couldn't touch silver?"
"If that was true, your necklace would have knocked you out by now."
"Oh," Draco lightly touched the silver chain about his neck. "Didn't think of that."
"I know. Hurry up."
Draco sighed and took a handful of floo powder. "Diagon Alley," he said firmly, throwing it into the fireplace where it erupted into dazzling green flames. With a deep breath, he stepped into the fire. He was immediately thrown into a spin, hurtling past hundred and hundreds of fireplaces, catching glimpses into homes and stores around the country until he finally came tumbling out into the lobby of the Leaky Cauldron hotel. He shook his head, sending sprays of soot all over the floor and stood up, brushing his robes free of filth. Good thing they were black. He began to turn towards the fireplace to see if Lupin had arrived yet when he heard a loud whoosh and he was sent to the floor again as a pair of legs collided with the back of his knees.
"Damn it, Lupin," he complained loudly as they untangled themselves.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to stand in front of the fireplace?" Lupin asked mildly, standing and offering Draco his hand. He allowed his guardian to pull him up.
"No, actually," he said, pulling a stand of hair in front of his eyes to inspect it. The silky blonde had now gone a grotty grey. "Is it my imagination or is my hair more yellow than it used to be?"
"I think it's the soot," Lupin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Go clean up. I'll wait for you here."
"Uh, that’s something I forgot to mention before," Draco scratched his arm somewhat uncomfortably. "People'll go crazy if they see me with… a… well, you." Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I expect they would."
"And, you know, by now everybody will know you’re my guardian, but none of them will… if they think we're friendly, well…"
Lupin smiled. "Your Slytherin reputation will go down the toilet. What do you want me to get?"
"I need new dress robes," he shrugged. "I grew."
"I noticed that. You're half a foot taller than you were last time I saw you. What size are you?"
"Just tell Madam Malkin that they're for me. We've been going to her since I was a kid. She knows what I like."
"Anything else?"
Draco thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I can handle the rest."
"Good. In that case," he smiled. "I'll be in the pub. Tell me when you're finished."
Draco nodded and gave him a grin before heading for the bathroom. He headed straight for the mirror, ignoring whoever else was inside and immediately turned on the faucet and dunked his head under it, rubbing hard to get rid of the black crap that had worked itself in. He pulled his head up and looked at his dripping self in the mirror, checking that his hair was clean and his cheeks were free of smudges. As his gaze lingered a second on his eyes, he reached out a shaking finger to touch the reflection. After a moment, he closed his eyes and let his finger drop, leaning heavily on the basin.
"Draco?"
He looked to the side at the sound of his name. A handsome dark skinned boy came into view. "Carlos," Draco nodded, straightening up and smoothing his wet hair back.
"Wow, Malfoy," Carlos looked him up and down. "What have you done to yourself?"
"Pardon?"
"You look like you've spent your entire holidays in the gym!" Carlos' dark eyes boggled.
Draco shrugged.
"And… what did you do to your eyes?" Carlos frowned. "They look… well, they're a different colour."
"Oh good, Carlos, you aren't blind," Draco rolled his eyes. "Colour charm."
"Guys can get them done?" Carlos raised his eyebrows. "I thought only girls and gays did it?"
"Funny sort of question from you, Carlos," Draco raised an eyebrow.
Carlos blushed. Draco was the only person who knew about his sexual preference. Well, Draco and the Ravenclaw boy he'd caught him with. "Well, you know…"
Draco half smiled. "Anyone can get it done, Carlos. Make a statement."
"I always sort of wanted blue eyes," he admitted.
"So get them," Draco encouraged him, seeing a glimmer of an opportunity.
"Yeah," Carlos nodded with a shrug. "Yeah, maybe I will. Like, if you've got them, then it wont be weird, will it?"
"Nah," Draco shook his head.
Carlos glanced down at his watch. "Hey, I have to meet Maria. But thanks."
"No problem," Draco said. Carlos was one of the few Slytherin's Draco actually liked. Him and his twin sister, Maria. The rest were lost cases who needed somebody to follow. Little lost sheep.
"Oh, and hey," Carlos stopped at the door. "You look great."
"Thankyou," Draco smiled.
Carlos smiled back and then disappeared. Draco looked after him for a moment, then turned his head back, regarding himself in the mirror for a second before turning away.

Alright, he thought to himself, pushing open the doors of Flourish and Blotts. That level six spell book and…he glanced down at his Hogwarts letter. Counter spells, jinxes and rudimentary defence. Defence Against the Dark Arts is sounding fun already. What moron did they hire this year, I wonder?
Draco quickly located the two spell books he needed, plus a few advanced transfiguration, charms and potions books. He left them in a pile on the counter while he took a browse through the aisles. After a few minutes, he climbed the stairs to the upper level, where the books were more fiction orientated rather than actual spells.
"You haven't come to visit me," a familiar voice murmured in his ear.
"I've been a little busy," he said, not looking up. "Being in hospital and all."
Morgan leaned against the bookshelf. "Must have been awful for you."
"Mm," he agreed, pulling a book out and flicking through it. "Especially since you set it up."
"Well of course I did," she said, pulling the book away from him and putting it back on the shelf. "I'm a little surprised you didn't realise that beforehand."
Draco turned to look at her. "And why, exactly, did you do it?"
"It hurts you, doesn't it?" she asked him sympathetically. "Being different."
"I've always been different," he muttered, pushing past her to a different section.
"But you were always human before," she said from behind him. "Now you're something else."
"Yeah, a freak," he said, glad that the upstairs area was empty.
"Special," she disagreed, turning him around. "Use it."
"Use what?" he raised his eyebrows.
Morgan placed a hand over his heart. "This. You'll know, when you come to it. Keep meditating. Keep trying. Use your hurt and let the magic flow."
"You're not actually making any sense, you know," he pointed out. "And you still haven't told me why."
"He wanted it."
"But why?"
She shrugged. "He doesn't share his mind with me."
Draco looked at her, feeling more tired than he'd ever been in his life. "Go away, Morgan," he sighed. "Just leave me alone."
She began to fade before his eyes, and her face was sad.
"Do you often speak to yourself?" a prim voice asked from behind him. "It's the first sign of madness, you know."
Draco turned around and saw one of the three people he least wanted to see. He immediately balled his hands into fists, hiding his fingers. "Sod off Granger," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood."
"What happened to your eyes?" she asked, a hand going to her mouth.
"Colour charm," he moved towards the stairs. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Really?" she asked. "I thought they only came in blue, green and brown."
"And what would a mangy Mudblood like you know?" he asked, not bothering to turn. He continued down the stairs and went to the counter, paying for his books and leaving with them under his arm.

"Ow!" the girl cried as he crashed into her, spilling his and her books all over the ground. Draco lay still for a moment, wondering if it was worth getting up. "Are you okay?" the girl asked in a strong Scottish accent. "You look kind of dead."
"I am kind of dead," he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. "You always walk around with your eyes closed?"
"Might do," she shrugged, struggling to her feet and picking up her books. She offered him a hand and he took it, accidentally pulling her off balance and onto him, the books scattering again. "That hurt," she pointed out.
"I had noticed that, actually," he winced. Her knee was firmly planted in his side. She pushed herself up and he rolled over, following suit. He looked down at her, noticing that she was at least a head shorter than he was and had deep maroon hair which had to be artificial. "You're Scottish," he said.
"Really?" she raised both eyebrows in surprise. "And here I was all me life under the distinct impression that I was Welsh."
"In which case, I'm glad to be of service," he stooped and collected his books.
"Do you go to Hogwarts?" the girl asked curiously.
He straightened and nodded. "You don't."
"Again, thankyou for informing me of what I've been doing for the past five years," she grinned. "Actually, I'm about to start. I've been home schooled up till now, but me Mam was offered a nicer studio here in London so we upped and moved."
"And who's your mother when she's at home, then?" he asked, only half interested.
"Kerri McAngus," the girl shrugged. "She had a cooking show back in Glasgow and now she's going national."
"That's nice," he said, glancing down at his watch. "Well, I have to meet somebody…"
The girl grinned again, and he noticed that, while she wasn't the most gorgeous girl in the world, she had a cute smile. "Two sickles says you're a Slytherin," she bet.
"And what makes you say that?"
"You're rather cheerful personality."
He raised an eyebrow in defeat. "Well I'd give you the money but we didn't shake hands."
"Well I won't forget that next time."
"If there is a next time."
"Ah, now, I'm quite sure there will be. I might just be sorted into Slytherin."
He gave a slight smile. "Maybe."
"Taylor McAngus," she offered her hand. "Tay for short."
"Draco Malfoy," he shook her hand.

"Draco," Lupin's voice called to him as he entered the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco's sharp ears led him to his guardian, but he stopped dead when he saw that he was talking to a sullen looking Potter.
Harry Potter. The Boy Who unfortunately Lived. He who could Do No Wrong. The kid who was famous just because he had a funny shaped scar on his head. Well Draco had a crescent moon shaped birthmark on his arse, did that mean he could get away with anything? No. Stupid git.
"What?" he asked idly as he approached the two. He be damned if Potter saw him acting chummy with one of Dumbledore's mates.
"What happened to you, Malfoy?" Potter asked darkly. "You fall headfirst into a pot of yellow paint?"
"Witty, Potter," Draco replied flatly. "But I, unlike you, have some vestige of style and am willing to go beyond the usual."
"Into the vast realm of the unusual, I see."
"Ever tried for an eye correction spell?" he raised a blonde eyebrow. "Maybe then you wouldn't look like such an ugly geek."
"Ever go for a new personality charm? Maybe then you wouldn't be such an arrogant prat."
"Boys," Lupin rolled his eyes.
"I must admit that I'm hurt to hear you say such horrible things about me, Potter. I thought you loved me?"
"Why don't you run and cry to daddy?" Potter smirked. "Oh, that's right. He's in Azkaban, isn't he. And mummy's run away. Don't blame her. If you were my son I'd run away too."
Draco's eyes hardened. "As opposed to both getting themselves killed when you were a baby?"
"At least they died because they loved me," he shot back.
"That's enough," Lupin said softly.
"And mine don't love me? Everything my father's done, it's been for me!"
"What? Killing innocent people?" Potter yelled. "Yeah, he must really love you!"
"That's enough!" Lupin said sharply, crashing his fist down upon the table. The boys stared at him in mute surprise.
"We're going home, Draco," he said, calm again.
"But Professor Lupin…" Potter began, but Lupin silenced him with a disapproving stare. Lupin gathered a paper bag under his arm and firmly led Draco away, his hand on his shoulder. And although they played together on the piano later that night, Lupin didn't say another word.