The Darkest Night

Chapter 10: By the Light of the Full Moon

As the days passed and the full moon drew nearer, Draco became increasingly restless, as if there was something that he needed to do or somewhere that he needed to be. It wasn't difficult to fight at first. It was like a maddening fight at first, but now it was like a mental trick, impossible to halt or scratch.

Yet Draco did his best to concentrate on his studies and appear as normal as possible, now that his life was anything but normal. He did his homework, joked with his dorm mates, and even started a fight or two with the Gryffindors, not that that was hard at all. When he could, he even tried reading a few passages out the werewolf book he had checked out from the library, although to be perfectly honest, the man was as interesting as Lockhart.

On the outside, he was the perfect Slytherin.

Nevertheless, inside his own body it was a totally different matter. He was easily provoked and angered at the slightest offense, but he never let his emotions get the better of him as they had in the previous days. Draco now realized that he had acted rashly when he had attacked Snape. In fact, it was probably one of the dumbest things he had ever done in his life. Was it the wolf's anger lashing out from within, or was he just being paranoid? Whatever the case, Draco knew that he would have to keep himself on a tight leash, no pun intended.

He also found that his senses, sharper and clearer than they had ever been previously, had now magnified to the point of being downright ridiculous. He again had to rely on a sense-deadening potion from the medi-witch to retain his sanity, or else Draco felt sure that his brain would dribble out of his ears and onto the castle floor. And if he didn't die from that, then Filch would kill him afterwards for marring his spotless floors.

The Slytherin had met with Pomfrey the previous day to discuss the final preparations and to go over any last minute details. At first glance, the hospital wing had been completely devoid of human life. Not a single student laid in one of the stark white hospital beds, nor were there the usual cries of pain from some simple-minded first year Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

He had crossed the sunlit stone floor in a few long strides and peeked in through the open door that led to the matron's private office. Draco had found her in the back room as usual, bending over an array of medical journals and newly published articles from Wizard's Medical Oddities. Like her hospital that she lorded over so strictly, her office was as immaculate and unspoiled as a brand new gossamer gown. Which is an astonishing feat, considering how they lived in a castle that was millennia old or more. Draco felt that even a drill sergeant from the Wizarding Auror Academy could have ran a white glove over her desk and brought it back spotless. Not a single paper was out of place, leaving Draco to guiltily think of his own mess back at his dorm room. To the corner of her desk sat a single aged picture set in a silver frame, with a single figure running in and out of the photo, sometimes falling into a pile of autumn leaves spread across the ground. The small child, brown hair mussed and gray eyes gleaming with mischief, laughed silently at the camera, as if he alone was privy to some untold joke. He continued to throw leaves at the photographer.

Feeling Draco's eyes upon her, Pomfrey glanced up and gave her usual cheery greeting. "Wasn't it a good day?" she had asked politely, not giving a second thought to the real meaning behind her words. No, it wasn't a good day. No day was a good day if he was in the hospital wing, for whatever reason it may be. But he thought that remark a bit too rude to say, and instead replied in a similar fashion.

Draco looked back to the photo. This time the boy was pouting, knotting his little forehead and jutting out his bottom lip. He had lost a shoe. She followed his gaze, and a sorrow came over her face when she realized what he was focusing on. Smiling sadly as if nothing was wrong and wiping away a few loose tendrils of gently graying russet hair, she had immediately dropped everything and gave her full attention over to her patient.

There were several useful things that he had learned. She had suggested taking runs around the lake if he felt restless. Also, he had to eat more red meat, both for the protein to assist transformation and to satiate the beast within. Apparently, transformations would be less difficult if he followed these strict actions. He would soon find out.

He met with Madam Pomfrey a few hours before nightfall in the Hospital Wing. From there, they made their way out onto the grounds. A silvery glow was rising off the horizon over the tree line, and Draco couldn't help but stop and stare. It was so...beautiful. Like Odysseus' men under the thrall of the sirens, Draco felt compelled to stand there and watch as the glow got brighter and brighter and rose. Bella Luna! Luckily, Pomfrey gave him a quick tug on his sleeve and snapped him out of his reverie.

Once out on the grounds, it took little time before they reached the Whomping Willow. It stood tall and ominous against the blue twilight sky, the branches swaying with the wind. It seemed to sense their approach; the dark and chunky limbs rose above the trunk, creaking and thrashing about as if to show its displeasure at their arrival. The Willow seemed to lunge forward like a pouncing cat, stretching its arms and tendrils of branches and leaves as far as they would go in an attempt to smash the interlopers into tiny bits. Nothing but long furrows of dirt were left in the branches' wake as they slapped the ground, ripping grass from its roots and throwing it into the air. Draco stepped back and raised an arm over his head to protect against the clods of dirt that fell upon their heads. Pomfrey seemed unperturbed.

"Now watch carefully," she said, sounding cautious. She retrieved a fallen limb from the lawn and carefully prodded a knot at the base of the massive tree. Quite suddenly, the Whomping Willow ceased to thrash and became deathly still. The darkness became eerily quiet.

"At last," she breathed as the Willow gave one final shake before settling. It was safe to move in, so they both continued on and climbed down through the root system and into the passage below.

She lit her wand and led the way, her face aglow from the wand light. As they walked, she spoke of several ways to still the Willow's violent branches. The knot was the easiest, as it required absolutely no magic, but there was still the risk of being hit.

"But you'll have absolutely no problem," she assured him as they walked, keeping her eyes ahead of them. "You're much faster than I've ever been, and as you refine your skills it will become easier. On the other hand," she continued, pulling a cobweb from her hair with disgust, "if you don't feel up to a little exercise, a very strong Impedimenta jinx should work. How are you at your jinxes, Mr. Malfoy?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her that most of the Gryffindors that came to see her with jinxes had probably been assaulted by Yours Truly, for a just cause, of course.

It seemed like they had been walking for quite some time already. Where were they going? Was it possible to get lost in a tunnel that only went one direction? Draco felt that if it was possible, he could do it. If this took much longer, he'd have to ask for a rest stop, or maybe a martini or something that would - BAM!

"Oops, mind that low hanging rock, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked back up at her from the ground, screwing his face up and rubbing his forehead in indignation. Dirt was smudged across face and clothes. Disgusting. He couldn't decide which hurt more - his backside or his head. Now he really could use a drink. The Slytherin wondered briefly if he could convince Pomfrey to allow him some for "medicinal purposes".

After reaching the shack and taking a look around, Draco could see that not all real estate appreciated in value with age. It was a nightmare! The place was practically falling in upon itself. The roof had caved in within the front room, leaving a heap of shingles and molding wood upon the rotting floor. The walls were practically leaking with moisture, and a smell of dust and decay lingered in his nose and lungs as he stepped over the threshold.

The floor creaked dangerously as Draco tenderly placed another foot upon the ground. He tested it, slowly putting all of his weight upon one foot, then shifting to the next, hoping that he wouldn't fall through the foundation.

"I know what you're thinking," smiled Pomfrey at Draco's disdainful look. "It looks like someone sucked up the entire house into a vacuum and then hit reverse."

She sighed as Draco frowned at her. They boy wouldn't understand a muggle phrase if it wasn't explained in explicit detail, and if he did understand, the teachings from his stringent, authoritarian sires would make him classify it as 'plebian slang', or some other form of such aristocratic nonsense. Sniffing, she motioned for him to follow and told him in a business-like manner, "The upstairs rooms are sturdier than these. I suggest you stay in there for the night."

Pomfrey entered the house with complete confidence, leaving Draco to believe that there must have been several spells holding the place together. Either that or the only thing holding it together was the rat droppings. She shut the front door behind her, and immediately a shower of dust descended upon their heads from the loose floorboards above, leaving a rather dour Draco Malfoy hacking and coughing as he followed the medi-witch.

Looking around for some sort of hand rail, he felt rather dismayed when he realized that it had fallen off long ago and now resided at the bottom of the stairwell. The Slytherin had to step over several broken steps as they ascended the creaking stairs. By the time they got to the second floor, Draco felt that if the transformation didn't kill him, then the house collapsing on top of him would. This place was a dump! The furnishings, the stairs, even the dust was probably second hand! Resigning himself to his fate, Draco sat down in the only chair that wasn't completely dismantled.

"You can put your clothes on this ledge up there," she said, pointing above Draco's head. He nodded silently, not knowing what to say or do except sit there and wait. It didn't feel like the time to point out the obvious construction flaws of his newest habitation.

She smiled good-naturedly, her eyes suddenly shining with unshed tears, and awkwardly patted him on the cheek in a motherly way. "I'll be here to unlock the door in the morning when you wake up. Don't be scared, Draco." She gave him one last fleeting look before exiting.

He watched as she left and locked the door, the listened to the sound as she descended the rickety staircase to go back to Hogwarts. The boy frowned to himself and stared at the door long after she left, not quite comprehending what had just happened, but enjoying the warm feeling it left in his breast, especially since he felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of salt water.

Draco sat shivering in the cold night air, waiting with trepidation as real fear started to set in. He hung his head, letting out a choked sob. He hadn't been worried about the change itself before. That is, until this morning when he went to see Professor Snape.

A quick knock sounded against the door of Snape's office, causing him to raise his head and glance at the door. "Come in," he called to the visitor, knowing exactly who it was. Snape was dreading revealing the news. Contrary to the opinions of the students, he wasn't a sadistic monster who anticipated the next class with preplanned virulent criticism. He had never suffered fools, and would never exempt them from knowing exactly what he thought of them. It was that most of the pupils were just that: egotistical, gossiping dunderheads without a care for practicality or ambition. The potions professor set his quill and ink aside, pushing the papers away and giving his full attention to Draco as he entered and sat down.

"You wanted to see me?" asked Snape, completely aware of what Draco was about to say.

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, gracefully folding his hands in his lap. "I had a discussion earlier this afternoon with Pompfrey," he started, and gave a little nervous laugh, running a hand through his blond locks in uneasiness. "She said that I couldn't take the Wolfsbane potion, and that if I had any questions, you would know more than she did," he said, throwing out a hand carelessly. "I naturally told her that there must have been some horrible mistake and that I'd talk to you immediately." Draco waited expectantly.

Snape eyed Draco with a hard gaze. "I thought you already knew by now. The Wolfsbane potion cannot be taken during at least the first two months of transformation."

The boy was silent and stared disbelievingly at his Head of House. "What do you mean 'it can't be taken'?" he stuttered, grasping for words. He felt like a little bunny cornered by a wolf.

Snape's face remained impassive. "I mean exactly what I stated before Mr. Malfoy. New werewolves who have consumed the potion too soon have experienced...adverse effects. I'm watching for your safety, even if you don't seem to care for your own."

"Adverse effects?" he spluttered, not fully comprehending. A trace of fear was evident behind his widening eyes.

"VERY adverse effects," finished Snape. "I wouldn't suggest trying the experience yourself."

The potions master had watched cautiously as Draco's face slowly evolved over the course of the conversation, changing from confusion to fear, and finally settling for a seething anger. He could literally see the fury boiling inside Draco like a pot on a hot stove. Disaster was imminent.

"And you didn't think this information was pertinent enough to tell me? Maybe sooner than the day of one of the most stressful days in my life?!" shouted Draco, feeling very annoyed indeed. His muscles tensed like a taut rubber band as a tingling sensation slid its way down the boy's back. "Do you think this is easy; some walk in the park?"

Draco let the anger bubble up and explode, no longer attempting to restrain himself anymore. He stood up and cleared everything off Snape's desk with a sweep of his arm, letting glass clatter to the ground and papers fly to all areas of the office. The open inkbottle had fallen in Snape's lap, yet he did nothing to move it.

Void of emotion, Snape looked on and merely stated "Wonderful job, Mr. Malfoy. The evil ink is dead. You have vanquished it."

"Do you think this is funny?" said Draco incredulously. The man was infuriating! He wanted to jump across Snape's desk and strangle him. "What if you were bitten? Would you have a bit more compassion? What if I bit you?" asked Draco, locking amber eyes with his potions professor and feeling much more like the predator now than the prey. He wanted to find every heavy blunt object in the room and pound them into Snape's head. He wanted to...

"That's enough Mr. Malfoy!" Snape shouted back. He quickly placed the ink bottle aside and finally rose to his feet, leaning across the desk and hands braced on either side of him. "Sit down, before I make you sit down," he commanded in a deadly whisper.

Draco felt all of the anger rush out of him like someone had opened a drain. He quickly sat back down in the chair, ashamed with himself and not bothering to look back at his professor.

"You're practically foaming at the mouth; I have no special love for rabies inoculations, so I suggest you gain control of yourself, and do so quickly," said Snape in a disgusted voice. He sent one final glare back at the boy and crossed to the back of the office, opening a large wardrobe. Inside was an array of black robes, each identical in cut and color. Robes did tend to get damaged when a student's caldron exploded nearby, especially when dealing with fool-hardy Gryffindors or slow-witted Hufflepuffs. Snape turned his back on Draco and slowly unbuttoned his outer robes, leaving the professor clad in his black trousers and waistcoat. He hung the soiled robe upon a hanger and sat back down at his desk, waiting patiently.

Draco attempted to control his breathing like Pompfrey had suggested before he started to hyperventilate. But he was just so angry! He had never had trouble controlling his emotions before, so why was it so difficult now?

"Sir," he tried, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He opened them again and looked back at his professor. "Don't you think it would have been important to tell me before the day of the full moon," gritted out Draco, who fought the urge to grind his teeth in aggravation. He settled for gripping the arms of the chair.

"Don't you think," Snape countered, "it would have been prudent to ask me before instead of waiting until the last minute?"

Draco remained silent. No, he hadn't really thought of that. He had expected Pompfrey or Snape to simply call him.

"I'll forgive your outbursts this time, being as how your emotions run high around the full moon, with your elevated hormones and all that rot." Snape stopped for a moment, grimacing like he'd just ingested a foul-tasting potion. "How did I get so lucky?" he mused, almost talking to himself. "A teenage boy, who already had elevated hormones before, now has a dangerous enough amount to the point where he has destroyed my office twice in as many weeks." He turned back to Draco, becoming deadly serious once more. "But you can't use elevated hormone levels as your excuse to anyone else. I promise you this: raise your voice to me once more time, or threaten me in any way, and I can guarantee you that the full moon will be the least of your problems."

Draco gulped, knowing that his professor meant every word that he said and could back them up just as easily as he had said them. But that didn't keep him from retorting with a scathing comment. "Well sorry if I sound bitter. I am," mumbled Draco, folding his arms across his chest and sliding down in his seat.

"You can't expect the professors to hold your hand through this ordeal. I would have thought that you would have been mature enough to perform your own research instead of relying on others." Snape sat back down, looking neither angry nor content with himself. It was just something that had to be said.

Those words sliced through Draco like a dragon's tooth through flesh. Snape was trying to give him, Draco Malfoy, a guilt trip! Honestly, the complete nerve of some people. Everything had to be his fault! It always was! Secretly, Draco knew that everything actually was his fault. He had gotten himself bitten, and he had been the one who had slacked off when it came to learning about his condition. He felt that it was about time to hone his brooding skills once more.

"Alright," he sighed, knowing that there was nothing he could do to defend his actions now. "What do I do without the Wolfsbane potion?"

"You'll turn into a beast, just like every other werewolf who doesn't live near a world-class potions master," said Snape, punctuating the last words with just a touch of pride. "You'll have no control over your actions, and you'll be little more than a disease-carrying cur. And it shall be so for each night, I believe."

Well that was a bit unnecessary. Draco looked at his professor for another second or two before raising his eyebrows defensively. "A simple 'you'll have to wait it out' would have sufficed, but thank you ever so much for reminding me of my misery."

Draco sat pensively for another moment, and then abruptly rose to leave. "Great. Just fine," Draco spat. He thought it was best to leave now, before he got angry once more. "Mix in a bit of rectal surgery, and this is just the best day ever." He let the door slam behind him.

A cold sweat broke out over Draco's forehead. He felt small and alone here in this quiet house, with nothing but his fear to keep him company.

Trickles of moonlight were beginning to seep in through the cracks in the dilapidated house, illuminating the room and giving him a much better view of his surroundings. His gaze traveled upwards to the beams of the rafters, which thankfully looked solid enough to last another night. But the only things that seemed to be holding the furniture together were the layers of dust that had collected upon the faded and shredded fabrics.

Draco tried to keep his mind occupied, but could do little more than hum the newest Weird Sisters tune before his thoughts reverted back to horrible images of bone-breaking transformations that his books had illustrated with startling clarity and detail.

A few well-placed Scourgify's later and Draco felt decidedly better about his surroundings. It wasn't his area of expertise, but even he knew how to clean a cauldron with baked on potions ingredients caked over the bottom. Caked on dust was no different. He wouldn't eat off the floor, but at least he didn't leave footprints if he walked across the floorboards.

A putrid smell assaulted his nose. Looking around angrily for the culprit, he espied a rat in the far corner of the room.

And it was defecating. In his room. Merlin help it, he would show no mercy! He just cleaned that spot!

Quite suddenly and without warning, he felt a tremor break through his entire body. The room he was in had no windows whatsoever, yet he knew that the time had come.

And Draco was afraid. More than he had ever been in his entire life. He dreaded the moment when he would lose consciousness and finally become the monster, because from then on he would no longer be Draco Malfoy. It didn't matter how much money he had or how many political strings he could pull. Up until this point, he was still human. He'd never turned into a wolf and experienced the bloodlust, but all that would change tonight. There was no going back after tonight.

Twinges of pain stabbed throughout his torso, and then moved to his extremities until he felt nothing but the prick of needles over his damp skin. His pupils dilated until only the merest circle of amber could be seen. He cried out sharply and fell to the ground on his hands and knees, breathing heavily as his whole body became racked with spasms.

Draco bit his bottom lip to hold back the tears that threatened to course down his cheeks. This wasn't happening, not to him. He was Draco Malfoy. It was all a dream; a horrible nightmare and he'd wake up and find that nothing was wrong.

But the pain didn't stop. It magnified tenfold as the tremors ripped through him. He was sitting on his knees now with his arms thrown out behind him, but he didn't remember moving. His only thoughts focused on the pain, the searing pain that coursed outward from his spine and shook every nerve fiber. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't hold it back. Draco tried to scream in pain, but found that even this luxury was stolen from him as his ribs expanded and his lungs tensed. The Slytherin threw his head back and opened his mouth in a silent howl.

The beast took hold and didn't let go, racking his body mercilessly. He could feel his own fingers now turning into claw-like nails, as he scratched as his chest, shredding the tender human skin to make way for the course dark hair that sprouted under the surface. Draco could hear the bones popping and snapping as muscles were wrenched and the sinew shifted, and the sound sickened him as he barely registered that these were his bones snapping, and his muscles tearing as he tore his own skin away from the flesh. And finally, he could scream.

He was panting, hacking, and digging his claws into the wood as he writhed on the floor. His head pounded with the sound of his own screams, which became hoarser and lower, changing into a howl as he felt his spine twisting. Draco's nose and face elongated and the teeth sprouting from his muzzle lengthened to deadly points.

He tried to hang on, tried to focus on the pain as his body morphed into the monster that he had become. But his vision was darkening, and a dark fog had descended over his thoughts.

Just a little longer. You can hold out for a moment longer. But he knew was lying to himself, even as the last vestiges of humanity were torn away and replaced by something far more feral.

Not me. No longer human. This isn't me.

Reviews:

The Breeze, aka Steve - Yeah, you're right, nothing earth shattering, but I'm afraid you have to get through some of the boring stuff to get to the good parts. Harry and Draco civil? With time, perhaps, although I would like to see that too.

VoldemortsDaughter1 - Glad you liked it. I love evil Snape too! He's just so...evil and unlikable that you can't help but love the slimy git. I think Draco's doing a pretty good job of keeping his secret so far, but even the best person can slack a bit, even good ole Draco. I wouldn't be surprised if someone noticed soon, especially since he'll be disappearing for three nights a month. Lupin's in the next chapter, I promise!

Portrait of Mrs. Black - Great to hear from you again! I'm glad you didn't completely leave - I was afraid I had offended some people after the Pavarti incident. Hope this chapter is up to your normal standards. If not, I'm sure you'll give me some honest feedback. (;

Carol Grissom - cool name. Grissom. Kind of slips off the tongue, doesn't it? Mine is so boring... anyway! Glad that you like the plot - I try to keep it as original as possible - I have yet to find another Draco/werewolf fic. Thanks for being specific about what you like - descriptions, feelings. A lot of people will just say that they like it, but they never tell me what they like. I'll make sure to keep it up as much as possible. And we'll see how you like Lupin's portrayal in the next chapter. Thanks for the review!