-

There was tap-tap-tap against the windowpane. Draco blinked and slowly sat up from the couch, pulling his comforter around himself as he shuffled to his feet. Draco opened the window, removing a potion vial tied to the owl's leg and drinking it in one swallow, shuddering as the worst of his pain eased.

The owl hopped from the windowsill onto Draco's shoulder, using the fabric of the comforter to hold on. They hooted softly and began carefully preening the few loose locks of hair near Draco's temple.

Draco stared out at the lawns and the forest, far away and far below. For a long time.

-

-

"...I see," McGonagall said with a frown, "I shall have to speak with Hagrid about where in the forest the herd was."

"And-?" Harry said expectantly.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, picking up her teacup and taking a sip before saying, "And?"

"Aren't you going to cancel Hogsmeade weekend?" Harry said, shifting uneasily on the hard old fashioned chairs in McGonagall's office.

"The last Hogsmeade weekend before christmas? There would be a riot," McGonagall said.

"But-!"

McGonagall set her cup down with a clink and held up a hand, "I understand your concern, Harry, I really do."

"You understand? So what, you're going to just let it go? Just hope things work out like Dumbledore did?" Harry said.

McGonagall mouth pursed, "That isn't fair-"

"It doesn't have to be fair if it's the truth," Harry said.

"-to my situation," McGonagall went on firmly, "This is a school not a fiefdom. I can't order the gates barred and locked. I find myself in a constant balancing act between trying to maintain a safe learning environment, and allowing enough freedom to the students for their personal enrichment. And, unfortunately, Albus allowed far too much freedom. Trying to reign that freedom back in for the students that still remember it has resulted in a number of complaints to the Board of Governors, which they have conveyed to me." She slid a stack of parchment across her desk, pulling out a letter and frowning at it disapprovingly.

McGonagall held out the letter to Harry, who skimmed through the contents.

"What about the auror's? Can they help any?"Harry asked.

"They can, I'm sure. Will they? I very much doubt it," McGonagall said. "I understand that they have other priorities right now and trying to track down a dangerous creature in a forest full of dangerous creatures is not one of them."

Harry put the letter back on the desk.

"Unfortunately, I am beholden to the Ministry and the Board of Governors, both of which can remove me from my position," McGonagall said.

"They wouldn't- would they? Not after everything you've done," Harry said.

"My role in the war has been some help, but I don't have the power or influence that Albus had and... There are those that would use the instability following the war to push for changes that would better benefit them."

Harry sat back with a frown.

McGonagall rubbed her temples, "...I can shorten the curfew during the weekend to have everyone back to the castle before it's dark. And have the students travel in groups of at least three."

Harry nodded, "That's-"

"And you are to do nothing," McGonagall said, sounding exhausted, "I understand that your desire to help is how you manage your trauma-"

Harry twitched, gripping the armrests.

"-but you are not an auror, or a professor, or a prefect. You're one of my students, Harry. And if anything were to happen to you, not only would I never want to see that, but I will be the bearer of the repercussions," McGonagall said with concern. "I will handle the werewolf in the forest. If you wish to continue your campaign against bullying, I heartily endorse your efforts. I think it will have a positive and long-lasting effect."

Harry bit down on his tongue and the anger that roiled there. "Fine. Thanks, I guess, for doing something," Harry bit out, shoving out of the chair and leaving the tower, going down the stairs two at a time and nearly falling as the stairs moved underneath him.

He was breathing heavily when he reached the bottom. Harry leaned against the wall for a second and saw his hands trembling out of the corner of his eyes. He shoved them in his pockets and hurried down the hallway.

trauma

trauma

Why was everyone suddenly-

He was fine.

-

-

The fire in the tower was banked low, the table was scattered with books and notes and papers halfway written. But the couch was empty, and so Harry went up to Malfoy's room where he was fast asleep. It was still early, just after the dinner Harry had hardly touched, eating just enough to get by before his friends could try and talk to him again.

He wasn't ready. He didn't have it in him to hold all the anger back he was determined not to show. So Harry had walked around the castle, keeping an eye out for- anything- bullying, trouble, anything he could put his mind to and when he couldn't find that, he walked every hallway, passage and hidden door he knew of until his feet had lead him back here.

Malfoy was breathing evenly, the faint moonlight highlighting only how pale he was, with no terrible flush of fever in sight. He was wearing Harry's tshirt again, loose and faded from dark blue to grey with a few small holes around the collar.

Harry pushed the chair closer to the bed and sat. Malfoy had lost a pillow, Harry picked it up from the floor, folding it in half over his arms so he could still see Malfoy when he laid his head down on the edge of the bed.

The turmoil in his head was slowly easing, and his heartbeat was slowing. He hadn't even noticed it was going too fast. The trembling in his hands stopped and twitching in the corner of his eye that he hated-

Harry took a deep breath. And another.

The pillow smelled like Malfoy.

It was nice.

Harry blinked back the ache in his eyes, inexplicably feeling like he might start crying.

-

-

Something- no someone was touching his hair... very gently and carefully.

Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy was laying on his side, curled in close to Harry. His fingers combing through his hair from the bottom and slowly working his way up until he could slide the entire lock of hair through his fingers. He was so focused on his task; he didn't notice Harry watching him as he worked.

Malfoy had very elegant hands. The fingers were long and sort of...pretty? Not like Harry's. And they were so careful, never pulling or impatient even with the more stubborn tangles. It was strange watching Malfoy being so gentle, it didn't fit in Harry's mind with the image he had of Malfoy; someone beautiful but sharp, full of angles and barbed words. Malfoy being soft when he had a fever made sense. This... didn't. Liking sick-Malfoy was easy because it didn't feel real. It didn't feel like it went beyond this tower, this room, this moment.

Harry shuddered, and sat up, pushing his hair back with both hands. Malfoy went very still like he was holding his breath.

"Do you have a fever?" Harry asked.

"No," Malfoy said.

Harry pressed his hand against Malfoy's forehead, but it felt normal. "Alright, well..." he rocked back on his heels, uneasy, "I'd better go. Er...got to go study, catch up on the wand work so I can show you how it goes..." He turned-

"What did you mean, 'because you want to'?" Malfoy asked.

"What?" Harry turned back.

"Yesterday, I asked why you were helping me," Malfoy said.

Harry shrugged, "I because I want to. There's isn't always a hidden motive, you know."

"Yes, there is," Malfoy said, looking at his hands, "Is it pity? Or guilt? Or you're stupid hero complex-?"

"It's because I want to," Harry snapped and left.

-

-

Draco let out the breath he was holding, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it over his head.

"Foolish boy," Draco said quietly, his father's voice echoing the words in his head, "why can't you do anything right."

-

-

Harry went back to Gryffindor tower, it was late enough that the dorm was mostly empty except for Nev having a lie in. Harry grabbed a change of clothes and took a very long shower that made him feel slightly less like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

Breakfast was nearly over when he reached the great hall.

He braced himself when he saw Ron and Hermione still sitting on one of the long benches and walked over, "Hey..."

Ron shot to his feet and pulled Harry into a hug.

"I- wha-" Harry managed as he was given a tight squeeze.

"You left me hanging last time," Ron said, as he let go and sat back down, patting bench beside him, "Hermione said we need ten hugs a day-"

"Not hugs, just touch," Hermione corrected, "we need meaningful touch at least ten times a day because humans are highly social animals and it helps to regulate our-"

"Well, I like hugs, so I say ten hugs," Ron said, "I wish I could go back in time and tell young me to hug people more."

Harry sat down, filling his plate with what was left of the picked over breakfast foods.

Hermione smiled, "I'm pretty sure younger you wouldn't have listened."

"Oof, yeah, you're probably right," Ron said.

Hermione took a deep breath, leaning over to see Harry, "So, what did McGonagall say?"

Harry hesitated, but they were his best friends, and even if they fought, he'd rather tell them than not. So he did his best to tell them everything McGonagall had said about Hogsmeade weekend and the Board of Governors. He left out the parts about trauma and McGonagall ordering him to leave the werewolf alone, feeling a spark of anger just remembering it.

Hermione looked at Ron before saying, "...It sounds good? She's doing what she can."

"Yeah, Dumbledore would've just said, don't go in the forest or you'll die-"

"If that," Hermione muttered.

"-And then we would've anyway," Ron said.

"Ha Ha," Harry said flatly.

"So what are you going to do?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not going into the forest," Harry said sourly. "I'm just going to patrol the section of the road that goes by the forest on Hogsmeade weekend."

"For the whole day?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, "Until all the students are all back."

"Alright, we'll need food, and maybe a thermos of tea or cocoa," Hermione said.

"A thermos?" Ron asked.

"You've seen it before, it's big blue with plastic-" Hermione said, making the general shape with her hands.

"Oh, right, right," Ron said, "I'll remember my hat and scarf this time."

"And gloves," Hermione said.

"You're going to come along?" Harry asked.

"Of course we are," Hermione said, "It's a fairly sensible plan, and not too dangerous. And we have a few weeks to prepare."

"Really-?" Harry said, "But you said-"

"Well, yes but..." Hermione hesitated

"Honest, mate?" Ron said, "We'd rather you dropped the wolf thing, but we're not gonna abandon you. We're gonna help you out as much as we can."

"Thanks," Harry said, his voice gonna little rough. He cleared his throat, "Sorry for blowing up at you."

Ron nodded and held his arms open, "Hug number two?"

Harry rolled his eyes and let himself be hugged.

-

-

Draco eventually dragged himself out of bed when the grumbling of his stomach was too loud to ignore.

He studied as he ate his breakfast, one hand holding Granger's notes, the other a fork. As soon as he finished, he started walking as he read, absent-mindedly moving the table out of the way so he could make a full circuit of the room without stopping or turning. He didn't know how long he had paced before he was fully aware he was doing it.

He tried to sit down, but before long his own incessantly tapping fingers and knee bouncing distracted him too much and he stood up and went back to walking. He worried that his fever was coming back, but it wasn't the same, he didn't feel the itch under his skin and was only as overheated as a person got from pacing in a small fire-warm room.

He just felt so restless.

And he didn't know what it meant.

So he paced and paced, and did his best to distract himself.

-

-

They went to the library after Harry finished eating and let Hermione bully them into studying. After lunch, they all headed to the Gryffindor dorm. The sitting area was crowded and loud so they retreated to the boy's dorm which was empty except for them and they could practise their more recent spell work and practise casting wordlessly which would net a much higher score on the NEWTs than having to say a spell out loud.

As it got darker and darker, and neither Ron or Harry had it in them to focus, they decided to take a break.

Harry laid back on his bed, relaxing into the familiarity of it, staring up at the hangings above his head.

"Sooooo... how's it going with Malfoy?" Ron asked.

Harry looked over at Ron's bed.

Hermione was still reading from her textbook, her back against the headboard of Ron's bed. Ron was taking up the other half of the small bed. He shifted onto his side to give Harry a cheeky grin, propping his head up with one hand.

Harry sighed. "Again?"

"You've got the most interesting sort of thing happening around. All anyone else is doing is studying. Even I'm studying. It's boring."

"It's important," Hermione said.

"Doesn't make it any less boring," Ron said, "So come, tell us how it's going. Had duels yet? Or thrown a punch?"

"No. And no. It's been fine," Harry said shortly.

"Fine? With bloody Malfoy? That's either a flat out lie or you're practically snogging," Ron said.

Hermione lifted her book higher to hide a grin, kicking Ron lightly in the side, "Leave it alone, Ron, if he doesn't want to talk about it-"

"But he might not, or might just need a bit of prodding first-"

"If he needs prodding then he doesn't want to talk about it," Hermione said.

"Maybe it works that way for girls," Ron said, "but a bloke needs prodding and probably some ribbing. It's a bit of a push is all."

"That's stupid," Hermione said.

"It's not stupid, that's just how it works," Ron said.

Hermione let out a huge sigh and raised her book up so it covered her face.

Ron reached up and prodded the book cover and got his hand smacked away. He reached up to do it again.

"What if..." Harry looked back up at the curtains with a growing frown, "What if he does like me?"

"...That's good? Right?" Ron said, "You said you wanted him to like you?"

"But that was- It was more abstract? I guess?" Harry said, glancing over at Ron.

Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"It's like-" Harry grasped after the right words and mostly failed to find them, "It's... It was nice to just have a crush? Like because I knew nothing was going to come of it I could just enjoy it, sort of."

"But if he likes you it's... bad?" Ron hazarded.

"I don't- I don't know?" Harry said, "Like he's good looking-"

"No accounting for taste," Ron joked.

"-to me anyway, and when he's got a fever he's really... cute," Harry said, his face getting hot, "but he's still Malfoy, all snotty and rude and mean-"

"Yeah, we've met Malfoy," Ron said dryly.

Hermione looked over the top of her book, "What makes you think he likes you?"

"Err..." Harry felt his face get hotter and looked rather fixedly at the awnings, "...he, um played with my hair, and borrowed some clothes... that he keeps wearing."

"Well... I'd say he likes you quite a lot," Hermione said.

Ron nodded emphatically, "Sounds arse over tits to me."

"That seems very bold for Malfoy, though" Hermione said, "Have you told him you like him?"

Harry shook his head, "No- Not at- No."

"If someone took care of me like Harry has with Malfoy, I'd probably think they fancied me too," Ron said.

Hermione kicked him in the side again, "Someone being kind doesn't automatically mean they're interested in you."

"I would think they were," Ron said under his breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Why are boys so stupid?"

"Search me," Ron said with a shrug. "So, what are you going to do about Malfoy?"

Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his face, "I don't know..."

"Well, I don't think you should lead Malfoy on if you're not going to commit to being in an actual relationship," Hermione said in her know-it-all voice.

"With Malfoy?" Harry said to himself.

"Relationships are hard work," Hermione added, "Everyone has flaws and quirks. Whether it's friendship or romance, you have to learn to love the person as they are, not the image you have in your head."

"Says you two," Harry grumbled, "You got years to figure that out."

Ron shot back, "Like you didn't have years of getting to know Malfoy."

"And he's an obnoxious twit," Harry said.

Hermione turned a page in her book, "Then perhaps you only have good things left to learn about him."

Harry opened his mouth to retort and hesitated, but Hermione was right, as per usual. All the new things he was learning about Malfoy were cute or nice or interesting. "...fucking hell," Harry muttered in dismay.

"It's not that bad. Might work out better than you'd think," Ron said, pushing himself to his feet, "I'm gonna visit the loo."

When the door closed behind Ron, Hermione carefully closed her book, marking her place with her finger. "The hugging started after the war."

"Huh?" Harry said, putting his glasses back on and half-hearted combing his hair out of his face, "Ron, you mean?"

Hermione nodded, "I think it's because he feels like he never got to say goodbye to Fred. And there are the letters, he never used to write them, now he sends at least one a week, usually more. He gets panicky if he doesn't hear back after a few days..." she smiled sadly, "Everyone's had difficulties after the war-"

"Not you," Harry said.

Hermione traced the embossed edges of the leather cover,"...I was going to work in the Ministry after the war, that was my plan, but... after the battle, I just- I never want to see someone die in front of me again." She took a deep breath and looked up at Harry, "I know. I'll probably see more people die working in Mungo's than I would ever see in a desk job, but I want to be able to do something."

Harry swallowed, not sure what to say.

"Everyone has had difficulties after the war, even me," Hermione said as firmly as she could manage, "...I just wanted you to know you're not alone and if you could just think about what I said yesterday?"

Harry took a deep breath, "...I'll think about it."

"Good," Hermione said and flipped her book open, "Come on, we can work on the spells you missed some more before Ron gets back."

Harry groaned and forced himself to sit up, "Alright, fine."

-

-

Draco stared up at the dark ceiling of his room, eyes drifting closed from exhaustion but unable to fully let himself sleep. The bottom of his feet had started to ache from all the walking, and he had ended up sitting on his balcony, wrapped up in his comforter, watching the sun set behind the forest. A thin layer of snow had coloured the ground white, and a feeling in the air promised more snow soon.

He finally felt Potter coming up the stairs and tried to stay awake until he could hear him as well. Draco thought he heard Potter's footsteps before he dropped off to sleep.

-

-

Draco awoke to silence and went downstairs to find the living area just as empty as it had been when he left it. But the fire had been lit and fed with a few logs, and Potter's bed was rumpled. So he had slept in his cot, but he hadn't stayed. Potter hadn't even used the loo. Just left.

Draco supposed that since he only needed Potter to sleep, he didn't have a reason to stay. Even when Draco had another fever, Potter's help was nice, but he didn't need it.

He just wanted it.

Draco sighed and tried to push the thought out of his mind and focus on his studies. Until the restlessness sent him to pacing once again.

-

-

Draco felt the gentle prickle between his shoulder blades that told him Potter was coming up the stairs and stopped pacing, frozen in the middle of the tower, book open on his hand. He saw the top of Potter's hair out of the corner of his eye, even as he stared fixedly at his book, only forcing himself to look up when Potter stopped at the top of the stairs, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked.

"Studying," Draco said, his words sounding too quiet, swallowed up by the room, "You came back."

"Yeah? I just finished dinner," Potter said.

"I thou-"

"Don't say 'I thought you left' again." Potter said, "It's not funny."

"No, it's not," Draco said.

Potter blinked, "What? Then why do you keep saying it?"

Draco shrugged, feeling small and tired, "Why would you?" He didn't want to see Potter's expression and turned to the fireplace, taking a step closer to the grate and its radiating heat.

"Why would I...come back?" Potter said, sounding even more confused, "I- you need me around to sleep. Right?"

"I could probably find someone else. ...I'm a lot stronger than I was when you started staying here," Draco said, "So, you don't have to- I'm not- It's fine if you go. I know you'd rather be spending time with your friends."

"We could probably be friends. I said it before," Potter said.

Draco smiled sourly, "I don't believe you. If you wanted to be friends with me, you would be here."

"I'm not-"

"You've been avoiding me," Draco said.

"Is this about the whole, 'why are you doing this thing'?" Potter asked with a sigh, "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you about that. I was... in a bad mood, and yeah, I shouldn't have yelled."

"I understand... I shouldn't have touched your hair so-"

"It's not that!" Potter cut him off, "That was... sort of... nice. I- Would you look at me, at least?"

"Nice?" Draco said, feeling suddenly off-balance and turning back around to see if Potter was mocking him, but Potter's expression was as earnestly confused as it had been before.

Potter shifted his weight from foot to foot, "...I've never really had anyone touch my hair like that."

"That doesn't mean anything," Draco said.

"What?" Potter entire demeanour switch to annoyed in a heartbeat, "It means what it means, Malfoy. No one's ever touched my hair like that before, and it was nice. What is there to read into that?"

"Pansy used to play with my hair, it was nice. It didn't mean anything, she was just trying to curry favour with me," Draco said.

"And are you trying to curry favour with me?" Potter challenged him.

Draco frowned sulkily, "It would be stupid to assume otherwise, considering our history and social positions-"

"Answer the bloody question, Malfoy," Potter said.

"No," Draco said.

"Exactly-"

"And you're an idiot to believe that," Draco said.

"What?" Potter said.

"I am not someone you should trust, Potter," Draco said.

Potter rolled his eyes, "Well, I do. So tough shit."

"Why?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"It's called a second chance, and I've given you one," Potter said.

"But why?" Draco asked.

Potter's hands twitched at his sides like he was a moment away from throwing them up in dismay. "Because.... Because you had to do bad things to survive, but you're not a bad person," his face scrunched up in thought, "And you went through hell. And you helped me in the end, twice even, once at the manor and once in the room of lost things."

Draco shuddered at the shadow of the memory, "You pulled me from the fire."

"I wasn't going to let you die if I could help it," Potter said.

Draco wanted to ask if Crabbe deserved to die, but he knew there was no reason for Potter and Weasley to have risked trying to save any of them. It was just luck that things had turned out the way they did.

"You alright? You went pale all of a sudden," Potter said, walking across the room, hand reaching up.

"Fine," Draco said before Potter could touch him and shatter all his resolve, "bad memories."

Potter nodded, letting his arm drop, "Yeah... So that should be enough at least to convince you I mean it, about trusting you."

"Fine, but I still think you're an idiot for doing it," Draco said.

Potter threw up his hands, "For fuck's sake, Malfoy, were you always this-this paranoid?"

Draco twitched backwards, feeling faintly gut-punched and breathless, "...and who am I supposed to trust? My father told me I was better because of my blood, that those who were muggleborn were somehow lesser, that V-Voldemort represented something better, a better world and- and none of it was true. None of it."

"Malfoy..."

"My own parents! All my friends! Everyone I was supposed to trust-! So who?" Draco snapped.

Potter reached out to him, and Draco jerked his hand up, smacking Potter away. Draco tucked his hand close to his chest to hide how his fingers were trembling. The bottom of his feet ached. He wanted to sit but he couldn't. He couldn't be smaller, and he hated the feeling.

"Do you trust me?" Potter said.

"I couldn't sleep if I didn't trust you, you fucking idiot!"

Potter frowned, "So why don't you trust me when I tell you something?"

"I trust you not to hurt me on purpose. I have no reason to trust what you say," Draco said.

Potter's chin twitched up. He stared at Draco, searching his expression, and Draco felt his breathing pick up with the undercurrent of anxiety.

"I'm sorry," Potter said.

"About-"

"About what happened in sixth year, in the bathro-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco cut him off.

"I only want to-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Draco snapped.

Potter's mouth pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "So what? You're just going to pretend it didn't happen? Like you're pretending you aren't a veela?"

Draco stepped back.

"No one's going to ask you permission! No one's going to ask if it's what you want! It's just what you are, and you have to deal with it because no one's going to fix for you! No matter how much you... want them to..." Potter froze, his expression torn and looking on the verge of tears. He dragged his hands through his hair, "I have- I need to get out of here, I need some air." Potter turned on his heel and nearly ran to the stairs, "I- I'll be back- I just have to-" Potter's voice faded out as he went down.

Draco leaned his weight against the fireplace mantle and took a shaky breath.

-

-

"Harry's left."

"You're sure?" Hermione asked, leaning closer.

Ron nodded, pointing to the marauder's map where Harry's name was moving down the hallway, away from the small tower room where Malfoy's name remained, "You ready?"

Hermione hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

"It was your idea," Ron said.

"I know," Hermione said, sounding torn.

"I just meant that we don't have to do it. We could just wait until Harry asks Malfoy if we can talk to him," Ron said.

Hermione shot him a look, "If Harry actually intends to ask and doesn't just want to keep Malfoy all to himself."

"Or he hasn't gotten around to it. It's been like four days, Mione," Ron said.

Hermione sighed, "Or that. Anyway, let's go before Harry goes back to the tower."

Ron nodded and folded up the map as they headed to the base of Malfoy's tower. "Harry's sure it's not contagious right?"

"If it was contagious Harry wouldn't be able to spend so much time with Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Oh."

"But even ruling out all infectious there are so many other possibilities. The magic community is relatively small, and then pure-bloods obsessed with 'blood purity' limit their own gene pool even further by refusing to marry muggle-borns or even half-bloods sometimes, increasing their fertility issues, birth defects and rare disorders such as haemophilia-"

"Hemo-what?" Ron asked.

"It's a rare condition where the blood doesn't clot properly so even a small wound can be fatal," Hermione said.

"That's a new one," Ron said, "Thought up any other theories since last time?"

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, "...I mean, the problem with all my previous theories is that they are almost always discovered by early childhood. The sorts of illness that show up later in life are often a lot more..."

"Deadly?" Ron guessed.

"Sometimes. But sometimes they just make life harder, like Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, multiple sclerosis, chronic fatigue syndrome or... or, and I'm afraid this is the most likely in Malfoy's case, maledictus," Hermione said.

"Oh, I know that one!" Ron said, "That's a blood curse, right?"

Hermione nodded, "It's called a cursed bloodline because it does run in families-"

"Especially pure-blood families?"

"Yes. It's likely a recessive inherited condition that mutates a persons magic. It typically results in their magic becoming toxic and the person then slowly wastes away, somewhat like an autoimmune disorder," Hermione said.

Ron frowned in thought, "I thought I heard once of a bloke turning into a horse because of it."

"It sometimes rarely causes uncontrolled transformation that the person eventually can't change back from," Hermione said.

"Well, that sounds better than dying," Ron said.

Hermione pulled her robes tighter around herself with a shiver as they turned down one of the smaller side hallways headed to the back of the castle. "It's not like being an animagus. It's more like forced transfiguration, the person tends to lose their human mind within weeks or months of being unable to change back."

"There are worse things to be than a horse," Ron said.

"Transformation is such a strange thing," Hermione said, "An animagus' human form mirrors the health of their animal form, so if they have an injury or disability that's reflected in both forms."

Ron took Hermione's arm and steered her around a suit of armour before she walked into it.

"But any injuries a werewolf acquires while transformed will heal, except wounds caused by themselves or other werewolves because of the necrotic effect of the werewolf infection. AND did you know a master of transfiguration can restore damage caused to an animal while it's transfigured. There was one recorded instance in which a witch fell from her broom while flying and was fatally injured in the fall, and rather than risk apparating to a hospital and her dying in the time it took to get to a healer, they transfigured her into a bird. Once at the hospital, a master of transfiguration changed her back, and all her injuries were healed, though she was still very traumatised by what happened-" Hermione blinked, "why did we stop?"

"We're here," Ron said, pointing to a small wooden door set into the wall.

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" Hermione said.

Ron shrugged, "I like it when you get all passionate about stuff. And I thought you needed it, you ramble more when you're nervous."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'm not nervous, it's going to be fine. We're going to apologise for showing up unannounced and try to talk with Malfoy and maybe see if he wants to help Harry at all; and if he does, then maybe we get his help to distract Harry from the werewolf, and of course if he doesn't we might at least convince him not to cause more harm-"

"You're rambling again," Ron said gently.

Hermione squeezed his arm, "...okay, I am nervous, but it's still going to be fine."

"Alright then, let's go," Ron said and pulled the door open.

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Harry walked around the castle. He meant to look for bullying, but the first people he saw sent him walking down a different hallway, avoiding students, teachers, anyone. Harry zigzagged through narrow servants hallways, up moving stairs and hidden passages, passing through empty rooms with doorways connecting one hall to another, until anyone else would be hopelessly turned around. Until he stopped walking at the end of the third-floor corridor, nothing but a blank stone wall in front of him, and everything he had been trying to walk away from caught up and slammed into his mind.

"I didn't want someone to fix it for me. I didn't need to be saved," Harry said, his words bouncing off the stone and coming back sounding smaller.

"No one ever came to save me," Harry shook his head, "Not when I was locked in my cupboard. Not when Voldemort was trying to kill me. I thought maybe Sirius-" the words caught in his throat and he swallowed them down.

"I'm fine," he said, hardly more than a whisper and turned on his heel, heading back to the tower, assembling a new apology in his mind as he went.

As he turned the corner that led to the tower stairs, he saw two figures by the door. In a section of the castle that was always deserted.

Harry broke into a run and nearly tripped over his own feet when he got close enough to recognise who it was, "Ron? Hermione? What are you doing here?"

"Harry. You're back," Hermione said, immediately looking guilty, "We were just... going to talk with Malfoy."

"What? But I never-I haven't asked him yet," Harry said.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah. We thought you forgot."

"It's been three days since you asked me!" Harry said.

"Four."

Harry glared at Ron.

"It's been four days," Ron said, and tried an awkward smile.

"We're sorry," Hermione said, "We just wanted to talk to him as soon as possible."

"How did you even know where he was?" Harry demanded.

Ron pulled the Marauder's map out of his back pocket and held it out apologetically, "Borrowed this."

"Borrowing assumes you asked permission," Harry snapped irritably, taking the map back.

"It didn't work out anyway, Malfoy wasn't there. I swear he was up there on the map last I looked," Ron said.

Harry shivered, a chill going down his spine, "What do you mean he wasn't there?"

"We went up the tower, but it was empty," Hermione said.

"He can't not be there," Harry said.

"They're pretty small rooms, it's not like we missed him," Ron said, "Is everything alright, mate?"

Harry didn't answer, frantically unfolding the map and pressing his wand to it, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The parchment filled with the familiar inked likes of the castle. Harry's eyes instantly found the section of the castle where they stood. He saw their names clustered together in the hallway with no one else nearby. The tower was empty.

Harry started frantically scanning every name, on every floor, looking for 'Draco Malfoy'.

"Give us a side, we'll help you look," Ron said, taking one edge of the map.

Hermione took the other side, and they searched the map together, and Harry tried to quell his rising panic.

"I found him!" Hermione said excitedly, pointing at the map.

Ron's eyebrows rose, "What the fuck is Malfoy doing there?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief, "I don't know. I have to go-" he folded up the map and slid into his pocket, jogging down the hallway to go find Malfoy.