In the Midst of the Night

In the Midst of the Night

Chapter 16 - A Demon's Facade

Draco sat at the foot of his bed, his expression just as stony as his rigid form. He was staring quite harshly at his door, boring a hole through it with his piercing gaze...or rather, he was trying to. He had heard someone mention that it could be done once, and now that he had nothing else to do, he figured that he might as well try. After a while, his vision began to blur and he sighed, blinking quickly so he could resume his continues staring.

At long last, however, he gave up the feat and stood up, picking up his wand from where it idly rested beside him on the covers. He stalked up to the door with a renewed feeling of purpose and aimed the wooden stick at it.

What was that spell Father taught me again? He couldn't quite remember it...

"Oh, yes," he said aloud. Downstairs, he heard a round of laughter and resisted the urge to stomp a foot to quite his father's guests' ruckus. "Alohamora," said Draco, as if ordering the door open with only the one word. When the door did not budge, the small boy scowled and repeated the word once more, this time with more conviction. The door shook, but that was the extent of the response that Draco got. "Alohamora!" the child all but yelled and the door slammed open with a satisfying and rather sickening crunch.

Draco smiled smugly and pocketed his wand in the robe pocket as he looked at the hallway now accessible to him. His father could go hang for all he cared - he would go where he pleased.

He then proceeded to walk out of his room and made his way to the steps. I'll sneak out, he thought to himself and nodded in a decisive manner. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. And he didn't much care if the words in his thoughts were a mispronunciation at the moment. Draco snuck in a way he thought was sneakily down the hallways, the only sounds were those of his footsteps, but to give him credit, they were a tad softer than they would have been had he been walking normally.

Once he reached the ground floor, he looked around cautiously. It wouldn't do to get caught so early in his adventurous escape. A sound came from his left so he dashed towards one hallway and rounded the corner, peering warily around the wall to see his mother walk up the steps. Hopefully, her destination wasn't to see him...

Draco heard voices echoing down the hallway and heard the words, "...care...:laughter:...true. Severus always...disposed of. Undoubtedly...Potter." He was suddenly alarmed at hearing the Professor's name and his friends' so he crept further down the hallway and peeked through a crack in the door. He saw his father and a few men in sight that he recalled being named Mr. Goyle and Mr. McNair. Frowning, he shifted his position to get a better view.

Mr. Goyle was laughing. "The old coot must be losing his marbles! What was he thinking, leaving Potter in Snape's care?" But he cut himself off when Draco's father shot him a look. He continued after a moment with a dark scowl at the ground. "Well, it's true. What does he mean by doing so? Have the boy learn how to torture other children?"

A random witch from the crowd of Death Eaters in the dining hall spoke up with disgust dripping nastily from his voice. "Don't be ridiculous, Goyle, of course not. Dumbledore's not stupid, he probably has a hidden agenda that we all are blind to," she said. Draco shifted so that he could see who was speaking and caught her shooting a dark look at Lucius. "Isn't that always the case?"

"Crucio!"

Draco barely heard the word slip past his father's lips before the witch fell to the ground in a writhing heap of screams and tears of agony. He jumped back with a surprised gasp and to his horror, more than just one of his father's companions heard. Mr. McNair rushed past the doors and caught Draco as he stumbled to get away. The man's hand slipped around the boy's waist and he hoisted him into the air. "Ah, Lucius, it's your boy," called McNair into the room.

The screaming stopped and as Draco was carried into the dining hall, Lucius eyed him coldly; the orbs of ice smoldering like heated grey flames. Draco struggled vainly to release himself from McNair's tight hold and ended up getting crushed against the man's chest. "Let me go!"

McNair laughed and Draco felt it reverberate in his chest. "My, he's grown! Still a bit scrawny, isn't he, but sooner or later, little man, you'll be as big as I am!" Insulted, Draco kicked and scratched, but when that did nothing, he bit down on the man's arm. McNair gave a great yell of pain and dropped the boy to the ground. The blonde haired child rushed away and the man wasn't too far behind. "When I get my hands on you -," McNair was muttering and Draco ducked under a table and jumped over a couch. The rest of the men and women in the room watched with a mixture of amusement and unease as they saw the expression upon Lucius Malfoy's face.

And all at once, Lucius' face contorted as if he had endured this folly long enough. He directed his wand at Draco and sent numerous ropes that, as if with a life of their own, bound the boy tightly. The child's eyes widened in surprise and he fell backwards over a fold in the rug allowing McNair to pick him up and shake him with an aggravated expression upon his face. When he dropped Draco onto the ground, still held tight by the magical bindings, he curled his lip with disgust and turned away.

Lucius took his place, looking down at the boy, a small, barely imperceptible, smile gracing his lips.

Just then, there was a soft knock upon the door and it slowly swung open. Draco turned his wide and fear filled eyes towards the graceful figure that walked in and, if possible, widened yet a bit more. "Mmpher!" he exclaimed through the magical rope that covered his lips.

"Narcissa," said Lucius, echoing his son's exclamation. His eyes narrowed and what hints were left of his tiny smile vanished completely. "We are in the middle of a meeting," he told his wife in a chill tone.

She raised a brow and unlike his smile, hers was open, but held the same distinct tinge of frigidity. "Of course, love, I was merely looking for Draco." Her eyes fell upon her son still bound in the silvery bindings and brightened with a false light that would have made any actor swoon with awe. "Ah, there you are, dear. Come, I've been meaning to take you shopping for ages and I suppose I should know by now what a terrible procrastinator I am." Narcissa raised her wand and muttered under her breath the spell that would make the bindings fall away.

Once Draco was freed, he rushed to his mother and took her hand in his; it was oddly cold. He looked up at her smile that, to anyone else would be charming and bright, but to him looked strained and false. Why had she said she was a pro - protination - er, thing? Draco vaguely remembered what the word was...well, not the word itself, but the meaning, and Narcissa Malfoy was anything but that.

He barely registered the soft, amiable goodbye she bid to Lucius and the rest, nor the soft tug as she led him from the room. He barely noticed that they soon left the manor and the Malfoy grounds to hop into a carriage. The sound of the coachmen cracking his whip, however, soon jarred Draco from his bewildered reverie and he looked across him at the elegant woman poised like a queen upon her throne.

She was regarding him with a gentle gaze he had never seen before and it was a moment before he noticed his rucksack upon her lap. Narcissa raised a delicate brow, the corners of her lips quirking up into a smile. It seemed as if she could help it, but Draco knew that his mother and father never did anything unless they meant to.

"Shopping?" he inquired, his voice lilting to the high tone of a very curious child - yet he wasn't as curious as he sounded, and he had the vague feeling that she knew it too.

"Of course - don't you remember my telling you that I would be taking you to buy a few more robes? Your old ones are going to be tossed any day now I believe," she replied nonchalantly. Yet, despite her indifferent air, he saw quite clearly that she was frightened - and he didn't have a clue as to why.

Instead of responding, Draco turned and looked out the window. The trees were swaying as if waving solemnly at him and it seemed that the wind was so dark he could almost see it. His inquisitive glance wandered to the sky and it almost looked as if someone had hit it repeatedly until it was purple and blue, bruised from the malicious force. He gingerly touched the side of his face and vaguely wondered if it shared the color of the dark sky.

He didn't know if it looked it on the outside, but on the inside it sure felt as if it did.

~*~

He was walking to that familiar wood that he had used to play in with his brother, before he was banished from it. It was as dark and sinister as ever, but there were memories that lingered within it that made the forest seem oddly endearing. His sapphire blue eyes were bright as he walked confidently amid the hidden creatures of Death and his gait was merry. It was as if he was merely strolling through the park when he was really marching a death walk.

Violet eyes regarded him as he stood on the outskirts of a small clearing.

Derrick's eyes lit upon the two tiny orbs of violet light that shone brightly in the dark of the wood. A slow smile crept upon his face and he advanced languidly as if he had all the time in the world.

"Morgan," he drawled, his voice light with merriment.

Shimmering white teeth shone as she stepped into the light of the clearing and she smirked back at him. "Derrick?" Her laugh echoed like a taunting wind around them, merry yet strangely distant and detached. "I'd thought you'd passed over to Mistress Death's realm," she said, her voice elegant and as calm as if she had no care about what happened around her. With hair a deeper black than the darkest of inks and skin as pale as the lightest, whitest clouds in the sky, she made a surreal picture indeed. Her lips were a pale, pale pink and her violet eyes glittered with an inner light.

"You know that nothing can ever keep me away from you," teased the young Necromancer. His eyes never left hers and he looked at her like a serpent eyes its prey. If Morgan noticed this, she gave no hint of it.

However, at his response, her eyes flashed dangerously. "And Jonas, I suppose you've persuaded him to -," but disregarding the conventional ways of conversation with a vampire, Derrick Bane cut her off swiftly as he dusted off his grey robes.

"Jonas is the one that's passed on." He paused, looking at the way Morgan had stiffened, a reaction that would have been imperceptible to a mortal, but not to another creature of the dark. Her eyes had narrowed slightly. "What, do you think this is my body?" He laughed and the angelic sound more than made up for the abnormal silence of this particular forest. "Hell no!"

Derrick stepped closer to her until they were but mere inches apart. His smile was taunting and as Morgan peered closely, she could see the traces of ebony black swirling in the depths of his blue eyes and her own violet eyes sparkled. "Passed on?" she repeated, and though she sounded as cool and composed as a lord looking down at his plantation, she was troubled by the finality in his tone.

He gave a brief nod. "Indeed - not dead per se, but the next best thing to it that we creatures can be. I suppose he's drinking his tea with the Mistress with that air of melancholy he always has about him."

Morgan's lips curved into a beautiful smile laced with a tinge of venom and bitterness. "It's rather understandable, his sorrow."

Derrick made a noncommittal sound. "Mm, perhaps - but I never quite understood it."

"He hated being what he was - he hated death and the loss of life. Surely," said Morgan, her lips curling in disdain, "surely you knew this. Are you not his brother?"

He laughed. "Brother, of course, but never his confidante. That was Lorianna...and then you when dear ol' sis snuffed it." He spoke of Lori like a distant and somewhat detested cousin rather than the sister she was. There was a long pause filled with tension, but neither the Necromancer nor the vampire gave any suggestion that their silence was uncomfortable. "I don't suppose Jonas ever told you why he hated being a Necromancer?" he wondered after a moment, his voice unusually soft and fragile.

Her smiled turned remorseful. "He had no ambition, no desire for power," she told Derrick quietly.

"And that's what caused his fall," he said suddenly, his voice turning hard despite his self-control. "It's what caused him to fall back to Death, isn't it? It's why he isn't here any longer!"

"No," Morgan cut in, and if Derrick had been listening closely, he would have heard the tone of triumph bellying her words. "It's because of you he isn't here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Morgan," he scoffed.

"Then what are you doing in Jonas' body if it wasn't you who killed him? Why isn't he here instead of you?"

Derrick's smile slipped and in its place Morgan saw the demon truly behind the angel's disguise. "Are you so blind in your love for my brother not to see that he was weak? He was everything Father told us not to be." He eyed her form as if she were a common beggar. "You're proof of that," he said coolly.

And that's when Morgan's bloodlust and restrained fury broke loose from all restraint. Her canines grew sharp and her face twisted with undisguised hatred, yet somehow, through it all, she was able to keep the air of beauty around her as she fiercely attacked. She leapt at Derrick, slashing with her glass like nails that caught any mortal's eyes because of their peculiarity. Her eyes glowed brighter and shone from her pale face ferociously and she bore them into Derrick's as if they would burn him on the spot.

So surprised was Derrick that he didn't have time to block her until her second attempt at slashing at his face. Already, beads of blood were dripping along the thin red lines that marred his otherwise smooth cheek. He caught her wrists so she kicked at him instead and he kicked back. They flew apart and she stood up, brushing off her black dress and robes. Both lunged at once and they made a series of harmful blows to one another, neither of them feeling it in their adrenaline rush. When the broke apart the second time, Derrick smiled infuriatingly and said, "I don't suppose you ever got as much action with my dear brother Jonas, did you, Morgan my love?"

Just as she moved to attack once more with a vicious scream of anger, another figure leapt between the two figures and raised his hands between them. "Enough, Morgan," he said to the lady vampire, but he looked darkly at Derrick who suddenly morphed from the malicious looking Necromancer he was to the beatific man he might have been if the darkness had not enveloped him wholly in its grasp.

"He - he killed Jonas," Morgan breathed, her rage disrupting her detachment from all that was existent in the mortal realm. She was overcome with great emotions that she hadn't felt in years and this realization only added on to the hatred that she felt for Derrick. "In his stupidity, he banished Jonas' soul to the underworld!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in her exasperation. A maniacal laugh was forced from her lips as she gazed at Derrick.

The man between them was tall, 6'2, and his face was drawn taut by the glare he wore. His eyes were a mixture of dandelions and rubies whereas his skin was the wonderful color of dark chocolate. With a white shirt stretched across a muscular chest and a pair of worn, black trousers, he made a remarkable sight indeed.

After a short moment of utter silence, Morgan sprung at Derrick once more but was caught in Janeiro's embrace. She struggled in his grasp until he whispered softly, urgently in her ear. Moments later she buried her face in his shirt as he regarded the Necromancer coolly.

"You haven't been allowed in these woods for a long time, Derrick Bane," said Janeiro. His voice was gentle, like a lover's caress, and a deep, rich baritone as low as the sonorous voices of the rumbling earth. It washed over the small clearing and seemed to soothe the tension in only a short while.

Derrick dismissed this comment with a slight of his hand. "Mm, maybe, but I figured that now I'm in Jonas the Seducer of Lovely Lady Vampires' body, I'd be permitted," he said with a roguish smile.

Janeiro looked at silently him past those yellow, ruby colored eyes that were so eerie in the dark. Morgan pulled away to shoot a dark look at Derrick, her face lined with trails of tears tinted with the crimson of blood.

The young Necromancer was quiet for a short moment before he said with a piercing look at the large man before him, "I don't know who you are."

At this, the latter grinned a grin that was feral and blithe. "No, you wouldn't," was the cryptic response.

Derrick frowned at him, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Of course," he drawled after a moment, his voice mocking. "You're probably in my dear, pathetic Morgan's line and can't understand subtle inquiries."

Janeiro's grin did not fade, nor did it falter as he looked patiently at Derrick. If anything, it seemed to broaden with the same air of ridicule that the dark man before him spoke with.

"Answer me," commanded Derrick with a scowl appearing upon his face. At the long stretch of silence, he went on to say with that impression of disconnected calm, "I don't abide well with impudence I'll have you know."

If he had been trying to encourage an answer from Janeiro, he wasn't succeeding in the least. His brilliant sapphire blue eyes shimmered and flashed and he took a step forward, bracing himself to attack the insolent creature before him. How dare this lower being pester him in this way!

But before he could quickly attack, Derrick's eyes met the strange orbs of Janeiro's and it seemed as if his mind lost control over his body. He was soon swimming in a rough current, struggling against the numbing sensation washing over him. His eyes widened in surprise. "You can't do this," he tried to say, but his lips wouldn't move. He swallowed and said again, "You can't do this!"

Janeiro broke into laughter and released Morgan who stood stiff and suddenly collected as she gazed tranquilly at the still figure of Derrick. "Of course he can," said Morgan with a lift of one perfectly curved eyebrow. "If you ever tried to understand us, you would know." She narrowed her eyes at him tauntingly. "Jonas did."

And Derrick scowled and tried to scream but his throat constricted. He glanced at Janeiro to see the creature's hand out as if he was squeezing the Necromancer's neck. The smile upon the large man's brown face was sinister and suddenly Derrick wondered exactly who and what Janeiro was.

"What, little child?" he said softly, his baritone voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Did Mistress Death not tell you of her other, older children?" Janeiro laughed and Morgan took hold of his hand. "Surely you didn't think your family was the only one who could attain and cultivate the power to travel to death and back?"

Morgan tilted her head slowly to the side and walked forward until she was inches from Derrick's shocked face. Her smile was slow and menacing. "Perhaps Jonas could have told you of the secret of the Mortals?" She touched his face gently, running her fingers over his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips. "How else could he have killed you? Were you too surprised to wonder? A Necromancer of your power could never have been killed in the way you were - Mistress Death held your soul in her hand, there was no way a fellow Necromancer could have stolen it back..."

Derrick didn't even notice when the grasp on his mind slipped away and Janeiro's figure faded slowly into the shadows. "Merciful heavens," he whispered, still feeling that same numbness in his body.

The lady vampire smiled a last soft smile. "You were deceived, Derrick Bane," she said in a sing-song voice. "You were deceived..." After a short pause, she smirked nastily. "I haven't fed today...perhaps -"

"Morgan," echoed Janeiro's deep voice and she laughed.

And then in that supernatural speed in which vampires move, she was gone in a blink leaving Derrick with a terrible darkness welling inside him. It growled and clawed and burned and it was a feeling he had never in his life felt before - it was fear.

~*~

Thaddeus was trapped, and he knew it. There were those terrible faces leering unpleasantly down at him and he shivered as the unbearable cold seemed to somehow get colder. It was strange how he shivered and shuddered in the bitter wind that nipped nastily at his sparse robes that, he thought vaguely, were only a moment ago thick and new.

They'd been shopping and he hadn't been able to help himself from getting the new cloak that hung in the shop window. It had been Aden's new birthday.

Merlin...the poor child, how could he have ever thought of still having his son's birthday that day when he could see the masks dancing in the crowds, waiting for him to stop so that they could pounce like a predator upon its prey. Aden...dear God, what had he been thinking?

And now, in the midst of this stark, empty world that was somehow within itself a hell of its own, he was walking down Diagon Alley. He saw the shops devoid of any color and the streets strangely empty without the clustered groups of people doing their annual shopping. Again, he shivered, but this time it was not because of the cold.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone here?" But there was no response save the echo of his voice in the empty alley. And then he watched as the bleak sun set in the distance and the darkness crept in.

~*~

Draco's tiny hand was tucked into his mother's larger one, but he didn't feel the warmth of comfort in that contact that he expected. When he glanced up at her, the fear that had been there was gone and in its place a brilliant light that made him love her even more than he did. They were walking in Diagon Alley and, as he came to expect when going on outings with his mother, they had swiftly passed Knockturn Alley.

He looked around at the bustling crowds and wondered if he and his mother just bled into the throng. He wondered if they had stopped in time, would everyone else go one with their lives? No one seemed to know what had happened at Snape Manor - they didn't seem to know that Harry was at St. Mungo's with his life being stabilized by spells and Aden's father was dying with every passing second because no one knew what was wrong with him. They didn't know that Draco's world had crumbled to pieces only a few hours ago when Lucius Malfoy had hit him. It felt as if the world was coldly indifferent to the troubles that plagued the young Malfoy heir, and it suddenly seemed like a cruel and unforgiving place.

His steps faltered as he stumbled over a doll on the street and he briefly pulled his hand from his mother's to pick it up. He looked at the scratches of black upon the pale cheek and the mussed yellow hair. All of a sudden Draco found himself looking down at the clear, innocent blue eyes of a little girl who may have been three or four. She blinked her big eyes at him, her long lashes brushing her unblemished round cheeks, and pointed to the doll. "She's pretty," she said in the high crystal clear voice that only young children have. She smiled and cocked her head to the side as if considering him. "But you need to clean her some more." And with that, she held out a flowery handkerchief saying, "You can have this." She showed him her own doll with another brilliant smile. "Jane is clean."

A tall man walked over and took her hand, tugging her away and Draco watched her go in confusion. When his own mother came to take him away, he dropped the doll back onto the street, but secretly tucked the handkerchief away in his inner-robe pocket.

They stepped into the robe shop and immediately a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties came bustling over. Draco believed her name was Madam Loosa.

"Madam Lucreza," greeted Narcissa.

The woman smiled. "Mrs. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again." Her kind eyes wandered down to Draco who clutched his mother's hand as he peered up at Madam Lucreza. "And you must be Draco - are you excited to be going to school?" she wondered gently.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise and he turned to look up at his mother, but she was smiling serenely at the seamstress. However, he noticed a distinct sharpness to her eyes that was not usually there and he restrained himself from blurting out the stream of questions that erupted in his mind. After a short moment of light conversation, he was led to a stool upon which he was told to stand and he held out his arms with a tired air as a tape measure flew around to take his measurements.

When it was finished, it disappeared and Madam Lucreza told them that she would be back with some robes to try on in only a short moment.

Once she was gone, Draco looked up at his mother expectantly and she looked down at it him. "I suppose you're wondering about your new school?" He just nodded. "It's not like Hogwarts because it is only a day-school, but it will teach you elementary magic. I believe it's time for you to spend some time with children your own age and at a different environment."

"Why can't you teach me?" he asked, frightened at the thought of being away from home for a long period of time.

"I can't be bothered with it, Draco," she said simply and he nodded again. He should have known that without asking. "It will be good for you to be away from the manor." The finality in her tone brooked no more say on that subject.

Draco looked at himself in the mirror as Madam Lucreza walked back and put the uniform black robes on him.

School...

~*~

Before Severus truly understood what it was that he was doing, he was sitting in a self-conjured chair beside little Potter's bed, Marty the Magician open in his hands. He blinked at it with something akin to surprise and suddenly scowled. Poor Severus, his mind had no chance when his heart and body were working so diligently together.

He sighed and looked at the picture of the red-haired little boy on the cover with a wooden stick that had no resemblance to a real wand and found himself glowering angrily at it as if the little children's book was the source of all his troubles. His black eyes wandered to the tiny boy who looked dwarfed in the large hospital bed. Colorful lights shimmered and beeped occasionally and continuously marking where the monitoring spells were located. He glanced at the unsteady BPM monitor and felt his chest constrict rather painfully. When he glanced at the magical assessment, he saw that the chart jumped and dived in steep mountains. At the moment, it was particularly low and he wondered how that could possibly be when the child had just had a magical outburst of power.

The boy with the messy mop of black hair lay silently, his lips parted as if the second airway might draw more needed air into his frail body. Harry looked absurdly fragile as he lay prone and he was so pale that it was, frankly, terrifying. Only the monitors that told of life put the anxiety in the back of Severus' mind at ease.

He sighed as if in defeat and reflected that he had been doing that a lot lately. Then he began to read.

It seemed like only a short while before the door creaked open and Severus, surprised, turned to see who had walked in. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, a little younger than Severus, and her hair was wavy and light brown. Her light blue eyes danced with amusement as she caught sight of Marty the Magician and she raised her hand in a short wave.

"Hello, sorry to interrupt. I'm Jr. Hr. Skye DeMay and I'm just here to copy some of Mr. Potter's charts for Hr. Grant," she said and her voice was light and melodious. Severus took the time only to mark the page he was on and then closed it with a loud snap. He found himself surprised once more when she laughed. "Oh, don't be a sour git, Severus," said Skye.

His eyes narrowed. "You must be Lucas DeMay's insufferable little sister that went to Beauxbatons."

Her smile was bright and slightly mocking as she glanced at him. "Oui, monsieur," she replied, then turned her attention back towards the monitoring spell charts she was supposed to be copying down. "Wonderful," she murmured under her breath. "Getting better already, Mr. Potter." Severus looked at the charts in disbelief, but wisely said nothing - the woman had to know what she was talking about, didn't she? She was a healer after all.

Harry may even be out of St. Mungo's soon and back terrorizing Snape Manor with Draco. Bloody hell. Hopefully DeMay's sister is mistaken, thought Severus, but this thought was clearly bellied with regretful humor.

She was soon finished and turned to leave when Severus halted her with, "A moment, Hr. DeMay."

Skye turned around with a merry smile. "Don't worry, Severus, your dark little secret is safe with me." And after one last glance at the book held in Severus' hands, she left.

~*~

Luke didn't realize that he had put the bottle of ale in the cupboard with the snacks instead of into the cabinet that Skye never looked in. He didn't realize that he was wearing only one sock as he pulled his trainers on and he didn't seem to care that his T-shirt was backwards as he walked out the door. His eyes were bloodshot and his face gaunt. If it was possible, he seemed to have deteriorated in one day.

He rubbed his eyes then felt the harsh stubble on his chin before he shut the door behind him. Maybe Skye could give him some Dreamless Sleep potion at St. Mungo's. He felt he owed that little boy and Thaddeus a visit. And also, just maybe, it might chase his nightmares away.

Soon, he found himself standing before Skye running a hand through his hair and stammering incoherently. She raised a brow at him with an amused smile and patted his cheek gently. "Luke, I'm going to have to steal all of your ale one of these days," she told him. "You're turning into an alcoholic."

"No mm not," he replied and sighed.

"Here's a Dreamless Sleep potion. Drink those to make yourself fall asleep instead of the ale, all right? It works so much better and you can wake up without having to use a Sobering potion."

Lucas looked at the hand sized blue flask in his hand and turned a smile towards his little sister. He pulled her into a light hug and she laughed. "Thanks." He paused and looked sheepishly down at the floor. "Er - can I look in at - at Harry? And maybe Thaddeus?"

Skye's gaze was gently and she smiled lop-sidedly at him. "Of course. Harry isn't up, but Hr. Grant said he should be coming around soon." She pointed to a door a little away. "Severus is sitting in with him, but you can go in as well if you'd like."

The young man found himself stiffening in surprise before he said quickly, "Oh - oh no, that's all right. Er - I - I'll just let him alone...maybe, yeah, maybe I'll drop in a bit later."

She laughed. "Oh, well, that's too bad. Severus is all alone in there - reading you know. Shame that you don't want to drop a hello..." Luke glanced up and found that she was looking at him, light blue eyes dancing.

"Um," he said back, shaking his head decisively. He quickly desisted the motion, however, for his head began to throb.

"Oh? Wonderful! That was a yes, I take it," said Skye gaily and she pushed him down the hallway.

In a panicked voice, he said quickly, "No, that was a 'no', Skye."

"What? Why?" wondered the young woman, her face a mask of innocent inquiry.

"Be-because my I'd have to live a doomed life for the rest of eternity. You know, a life that is doomed because you know Severus, he'd eat me alive, skin me, and do other horrible things to me that I can't say within hearing distance of your innocent ears and...er...I - I just don't want to."

She looked at him, blinking her eyes owlishly, and he frowned. Was she mocking him? He began to shake his head but stopped almost before he began - wouldn't want another head ache.

"Are you sure?" she wondered slowly, looking at him speculatively.

He sighed. "You know what? Er - I think I'll come back later...when I'm a bit more sober. Thanks, sis." Then he turned and began walking quickly away.

"Luke," called Skye, "no more ale."

He looked back at her and rolled his eyes at her taunting expression; she laughed. "No more ale," he repeated.

~*~

Draco looked at the ground of the coach with eyes blinded with hot tickling tears. "Please? I promise I'll be good, and I won't sigh loudly ever 'gain in my life," he pleaded, and he turned to look back up at his mother. "I swear."

Her blue eyes that sometimes looked almost purple were looking back at him, that veil of cold indifference unwavering. "Why do you ask this of me, Draco?"

He bit down on his lip and turned his watery gaze outside. The tears were so thick now that he felt them weighing down. When they fell, he relished the sensation of heat on his cold cheeks. It was chilly now, and it was strange that it was so cool on a summer's night. "A'cause...because he's my friend," he responded, his voice a low whisper. He sniffed and wiped away his tears with clumsy little hands and didn't dare look at his mother. They were nearing the manor and he knew that she would say no, but he couldn't help but ask it.

This would probably be the last outing he had until day-school started in the fall. Father was very angry, but his Mum and he knew that his punishment would be different than usual. He dreaded it terribly, but Father was Father and he always got what he wanted.

"All right."

The reply came so abruptly, so quickly, so quietly, that Draco could have sworn that not a word had been spoken. When his head snapped forwards so that his eyes met hers, his face was a mask of shock.

"Close your mouth, you look ridiculous," she snapped, as if a harsh comment might make up for her sympathetic feelings. Narcissa Malfoy had never been close to her son; Draco had always trailed after Lucius and it was a fact that she didn't much approve of. She had never been a motherly woman, but whether she admitted it to herself or not, she knew that there was a space - small though it was - in her heart for this tiny little boy sitting before her.

Draco shut his mouth with a snap and his eyes brightened considerably. He quickly wiped away all traces of his shameless crying held his rucksack tighter to his chest. Narcissa drew her wand and tapped an amethyst colored sphere glimmering majestically nearby and said clearly, "St. Mungo's." The sphere glowed a bright violet color before the light faded away and the coach changed direction.

Moments later, after Narcissa put a concealing charm on her son's face to hide the discolorations, Draco was walking down the hall with his hand in his mother's with a distinct air of pleasure, excitement, and anticipation. He looked around in wonder at the wizards and witches dressed in the familiar medical attire and he saw all the displays of spells. He distantly heard his mother inquiring as to what room Mr. Potter was in, please, and his ears perked up for the answer.

"Willoughby Wilkes' Ward, just down the hall, Madame."

"Thank you."

And he felt his mum tug on his hand, leading him down the mentioned hallway. Draco's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Severus Snape walking toward them. "P'f - Professor!" exclaimed Draco, and he smiled up at the tall man before him.

Severus blinked at them in surprise, then nodded curtly to Narcissa. His eyes wandered down the little blonde boy beaming up at him. "Hello, Draco," he replied. A slight smile tugged at the ends of his lips. "I'm sorry I can't stay to talk, I've business to attend to back at Snape Manor. The child nodded and his smile wavered for only a moment before it was as immaculate as before. If Severus noticed the marked change in the young Malfoy heir, he gave no hint of it. "I will see you soon, Draco, Narcissa," he said softly, then he turned and walked away.

Draco watched after him in bewilderment before his mother gave him a small push forwards. He turned around to look at her in question, but she shook her head mutely. With a small sigh, he walked a small way down the hall and opened a random door, closing it after entering.

He heard a quiet 'pop' as he turned to look around, and blinked as he saw a large black dog gazing darkly at him. Draco's grey eyes widened and he looked at the brown haired man lying on the bed that Harry supposedly was supposed to be on.

"Who're you?" he asked, a frown making his nose scrunch up adorably.

The man blinked hazel eyes at him. "Er - my name's Remus Lupin. Who're you?" he countered.

Draco crossed his arms across his chest and regarded this man called Remus Lupin suspiciously. "I'm not s'pos - supposed to tell my name to strangers. My father says that they might random me," was the child's superior reply.

The dog barked and Remus laughed. "Ransom you, you mean?" His grin was merry as he looked at the blonde headed boy's skeptical expression.

"Um...maybe." The werewolf watched in amusement as the boy walked forwards one slow step at a time, his gaze transfixed upon Snuffles. Wide grey eyes dashed with a pinch of light blue met his own. "Is this your doggie?" Remus nodded, suppressing another urge to laugh. "Wow, he's big." Draco held out a hand and when Snuffles made as if to snap at his fingers, he quickly pulled it back with a cry.

Remus tapped Sirius' head as a rebuke, shaking with silent laughter. "S - Snuffles, play nice."

Draco held the hand that would have been the victim to the large black dog, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Why did he do that? Dogs aren't supposed to eat people!" he exclaimed, his voice piqued with indignation.

"You are absolutely right, maybe he was hungry?" replied Remus straight faced. It was quite clear who this aristocratic young boy was - Lucius Malfoy's son. What was his name again? It was odd...something with a D...Doran? Damien? Dexter? No! Heavens no. That was a name Lucius would never name his son.

Draco stepped closer again, the frown still creasing his brow and the space between his extremely pale eyebrows. "Sit, doggie," he commanded, pointing his finger at Sirius as if the Animagus was a very unruly child. "Sit." Remus coughed, trying to hide his merriment at the boy's antics. When Sirius didn't sit, but bit at the air, Draco wagged his finger. "Bad, doggie, bad, bad doggie! Doggies are not supposed to eat people! Don't eat people!"

Snuffles responded by licking the child's hand with a incredibly large and wet tongue. Remus put a hand on Sirius' head. "Snuffled, please behave. He's a child."

Surprised, Draco looked at his now sticky, sopping hand and turned a look of disgust at the dog. "That is disgusting." He pointed his gooey finger at Snuffles. "He's more of a child than I am! He drools! And he looks like one of those doggies that eats everything!"

Remus nodded solemnly, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Yes, yes he does - and he is."

Draco took on a smug look. "I stopped doing that when I was very young - my mother said so."

"I'm sure," was the serene reply.

"Yes." Draco walked closer and hopped onto the bed beside Remus. "Don't lick me," he warned the dog and then he proceeded to cautiously hold out his other hand, the other being wiped on Remus' blanket. Snuffles gave a dog-like smile and blew through his nose, mussing Draco's hair a bit, before he lowered his head so that the child could pet him. With a joyous and triumphant smile, Draco patted his head reverently. He turned a bright gaze at Remus. "Look! Look! Do you see this?" he exclaimed.

Remus laughed now and patted the child's back. "Bravo, old chap, bravo!" said the wizard, his voice teasing. Draco laughed. "Scratch behind his ears, he likes that."

"Oh, of course. Don't all dogs?" said the boy knowledgeably and proceeded to do so. After a short moment of comfortable silence, he turned a curious gaze at the man. "Remus Lupin, you said?" Remus nodded. "My name's Draco Malfoy." And he held out his other hand for his new friend to shake.

I was right! There would never be a Dexter Malfoy in the history of time! And his own subconscious opera began to sing triumphantly, Genius! Genius!

Remus shook the proffered hand warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco."

The boy nodded as if to say, 'I know.'

After a moment, Draco ventured to ask another question. "What's his name?"

"Snuffles," replied Remus, patting the big dog's back.

"Snuffles," Draco repeated affectionately. He paused. "And why is he so big?"

The reply was swift and taunting. "Because he eats too much - you know, people and the like." The dog trained its eyes upon the werewolf and growled.

Draco laughed. "I don't think he liked that answer," he said and jumped in surprise when Snuffles licked his cheek. Remus laughed at the lick of hair sticking up on the right side of the boy's head. "Yuck. No more licking, remember?" Again, Draco waved that reprimanding tiny finger. He looked at Remus again. "What's wrong with you?"

Taken aback, Remus blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

The boy frowned. "What's wrong with you? Why are you here?"

"Oh - oh!" said Remus in comprehension, "because I was allergic to a potion I drank."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Silly! You're not s'p - supposed to drink potions athout testing them first!" He laughed. "And you should know what you're 'lergic to! The P'f - the Professor says this to me all the time!"

Remus nodded, looking properly chastised. "You are absolutely right. The Professor sounds like a very smart person."

"Hmm, yes - he's one of the smartest men in the world! He teaches a school, you know," said the boy secretively.

"Oh, really? A whole school?" said Remus, his interest drawn and his amusement at the surface again. What a humorous child this was!

"Oh, yes! He was just here, visiting my best friend in the world. He's here."

Confused, the wizard asked, "The Professor or your best friend?"

"Both, silly!" He laughed again. "The Professor was a visiting my best friend because he's sick."

"Your best friend...?"

"Mm hmm!" Remus nodded slowly, not understanding very much. "Din't you see him? Maybe he stopped by to visit you too!"

"I don't think so...what's his name?"

"Well, I call him the Professor, but Harry calls him Severus, and Mr. Double Door calls him Severus too unless he's calling him Mr. Snape...but he doesn't call him Mr. Snape very much." Draco turned to look at Snuffles who was snarling something awful. "Stop that, you're ugly when you do that," he told the dog. "And it's bad to be ugly like that - you look terrible!"

Remus broke into a round of laughter despite the information he had gathered from Draco's confusing babble. When he had calmed down a bit, he said, "What's this about Harry?"

"Oh, I already told you about him!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, remember? He's here!"

Remus nodded. "Ah...and he is your best friend?"

"Oh, yes. We go flying on brooms. He fell off his first time, but the Professor caught him. We race. It's great."

"Who wins?"

"Me! Well...except for the times that Harry wins...but he cheats. But that's okay, because we're friends, and friends let other friends do things because they're friends," said Draco with a small smile.

"Absolutely right."

"Are we friends?" asked the child softly, his eyes trained on petting Snuffles, but there was a hint of pink on his pale cheeks.

"Why, I'm insulted!" Remus hollered suddenly, breaking out of his startled stupor, and Draco jumped, looking at him in astonishment. "Of course we're friends!"

A smile lit the boy's features and he hugged the wizard tightly. Remus met Sirius' eyes and smiled, patting Draco's back lightly. When the child pulled away, he looked at Sirius for a short moment before saying to Remus, but looking at the dog, "And Snuffles? Is he my friend too?" Snuffles barked and Draco laughed, throwing around the large dog's neck.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and it opened slightly. Narcissa walked in and, with a hint of surprise alighting in her eyes, she laid her blue gaze upon her son sitting comfortably next to the man she remembered from school and a very large black dog. Draco pulled away from Snuffles. "Mum!"

Her eyes drifted to the chart at the end of his bed and they widened as she read the word 'werewolf' in bold letters. "Merciful heavens, Draco!" she cried. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" She walked briskly forward and took his arm in a tight hold, dragging him away from Remus Lupin who looked upon the whole scene with astonishment. "Don't you ever come near my son again, Lupin, or you will have my husband to answer to," said the witch coldly.

She proceeded to drag Draco away and Remus heard the boy protested quite loudly, "But we were talking! And I didn't get to see Harry! Remus was is in his bed!" before the door loudly slammed closed.

...

"Stop this nonsense, Draco, your father is looking for us and we must get home at once."

Draco tried to pry his mother's fingers from his arm for they were too tight and hurting him. "But, Mum!"

"But nothing. You were taking such a long time to visit an unconscious patient so went into the Willoughby Wilkes' Ward and what do I find? Nothing - not one sign of my son ever having been in that room. I had the Healers stop what they were doing immediately and help me look for you and I finally open a random door to see you sitting there with - with a werewolf." She spat out the word 'werewolf' as nastily as all Draco's elders spoke the word 'Mudblood.' "Never speak to werewolves, Draco - they're nasty creatures and will harm you because they are malicious by nature. If you ever go near one again, I will be forced to tell your father." And that was the end of that conversation.

He was forced to a sitting position in their coach and looked out the window with troubled grey eyes. His mum had just told him that his new friend Remus Lupin was a werewolf...but that couldn't be true, could it? But if it wasn't, his mum was lying, and she never did that...but if she wasn't lying, then Remus was a werewolf! His head was spinning with chaotic thoughts.

It just couldn't be possible - Remus was his friend, he would never hurt him, he and Snuffles were too nice to ever cause harm to anybody. He had heard stories about werewolves before. Draco remembered sitting with the professor on the coach when he was little and the elder man was reading from a text about dark creatures.

...

"These...these creatures," the professor had said, "live only to curse others."

Draco, sitting close to him, snuggled closer and peered at the frightening sketch of a werewolf growling at the moon, its claws outstretched towards an unseen victim. He shivered. "But why?"

Severus had smiled down at him and messed up his hair, a habit that had made the young Malfoy giggle helplessly. "Created by another's evil intent," read the wizard, "they hunt for unsuspecting prey...driven on only for the enchanting taste of fear and their hatred of man. Once having been a man as well, the wolf finds himself thirsty for mortality, but is unable to grasp it with hands...only with claws. And thus he wishes only to curse others with the evil spell cast upon him."

Draco buried his face in the black cloak that his godfather always wore. A reassuring arm wrapped around his tiny body and he slowly glanced up, his eyes large and fearful. "Are they demons?" he had asked softly that night.

The professor had smiled again, his eyes dark and eerie as they glittered, reflecting the dancing flames in the fireplace. "No, Draco," said Severus, his voice soft and oddly grave. "No, they're not."

...

This description would never have brought Remus Lupin to Draco's mind - not in a million years.

Now, however, was being forced to disclaim any and all feelings towards werewolves like Remus. That was the way things were done in his family. When he was told that Mudbloods were nasty people, filthy and without magic, Draco had had no trouble believing that they were evil because he had never met one. He didn't even know exactly what they were except that they were evil. His father had told him all about them. Lucius had said that they contaminated the earth and used to burn wizards and witches. It was a tale that had given Draco nightmares for weeks.

But now that Draco was told to feel the way he felt about Mudbloods about werewolves like his new friend ...it was harder. He had actually met one now, and he had thought that Remus was just like everyone else. Had Remus been lying when he said he had drunken a potion he was allergic to? Was it because he was sick with werewolf-ism that he was at St. Mungo's?

...created by another's evil intent...

No.

...driven on only for the enchanting taste of fear and their hatred of man...

No.

...and thus he wishes only to curse others with the evil spell cast upon him...

No!

Of course not! Remus would never lie. Remus was his friend and friends never lie to other friends - that was a fact. And Remus, saying that they were friends, knew that they could never ever lie to one another. It was just an unspoken deal, an automatic promise.

But Mum said that werewolves are evil...

"So what!" Draco unintentionally exclaimed out loud.

Narcissa's gaze snapped towards her son. "I beg your pardon?" she asked coolly.

He bit down on his lip. "Nothing, Mother, I'm sorry." She nodded and he turned his gaze back towards the window.

Remus is a werewolf, that must mean he's evil...whispered a taunting voice in the back of his mind.

So what! Mother is wrong about him!

He's a monster...

"Are we friends?"

"Why, I'm insulted!" Remus hollered suddenly, breaking out of his startled stupor. "Of course we're friends!"

What Mother and Father says are always right...

No.

No?

No.

Draco scowled, looking at the bruised sky. He was smarter now. He knew better. He wasn't a child anymore and he could think for himself. What did anyone know? Werewolves aren't evil if all of them are like Remus. He's a great friend! And he has a great dog named Snuffles! Remus Lupin is not evil!

But Mother and Father know everything...

His thoughts were swirling. But his father hit him...he wasn't the father he knew and loved. That man was gone. In his place was someone that Draco didn't know. If this scary, wicked man was in his father's place, then what scary, wicked woman was in his mother's place? Was his whole world masked? Was he blind to reality?

But Mother and Father said that werewolves are evil - they said that Remus...

He turned a dark look at his mum, his grey eyes smoldering with defiance. Mother and Father are wrong.