FIC GLOMP for catbirdfish

[snakelion]

Title: Proving Ground
Author: Anonymous
Beta: Awesomonoymous
Glomp For: catbirdfish
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, canon pairings
Summary: Harry Potter’s defeat of the Dark Lord should have ended it. We should have been able to return to our lives and try to rebuild something from what little we had left. Strange how things seldom work as planned, even on the day after.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): None.
Epilogue compliant? That will be up to you, now won’t it?
Word Count: ~7,000
Author’s Notes: Dear Prompter, I picked this up as a pinch hit and was immediately taken by your "wartime AU” suggestion, and although I did not manage to make it AU, there is a bit of fighting between Harry and Draco, a hint of Malfoy Manor, supportive friends and family, and a few other things you requested. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to push this into the realm of 20k in order to reach the sex, but a sequel is not out of the question… I do hope you like it.



I stared out over the crowd of people, many of them wounded, all of them filthy, most with tear-tracks streaking the dirt on their faces, but some few carrying smiles for all of that. I thought I might never smile again. Mother's hand squeezed mine and I glanced at her. She was not smiling, and I could not recall the last time I had seen one gracing her face. She seemed to have aged a decade in the past year, mainly in the lines etched in her skin, but she would not love me for pointing that out. She watched the crowd in much the way I had—with dead, uncaring eyes.

Father sat next to her, hunched over the way I had never seen him. He gripped the edge of his cloak in one hand and smoothed it with the other, over and over in a rhythmic pattern. His eyes were fixed on the table before him, never lifting to view the occupants of the room, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

I suddenly wanted to be far away from here. Potter had won the war and everything had changed. I had often wondered what would happen if Potter destroyed the Dark Lord; I had considered it briefly, in mere snatches, over the past several years. Entertaining the notion for any length of time would have invited instant punishment should the Dark Lord happen to pluck it out of my thoughts, so I had buried the concept deep and tried to think of nothing but following blindly.

I glanced at my father. Such things did not come naturally to us.

I looked one last time at Potter, who did not seem particularly pleased with his victory. Even when he smiled it did not reach his eyes. He caught my gaze and I held his stare for as long as I was able, but the intensity was more than I could handle. His message was clear; I did not deserve to live when so many others had fallen.

I got to my feet abruptly. "I want to go home," I said.

Mother stood and Father's gaze snapped up to fix on us. I wondered, not for the first time, if he would ever be the man he had been before the Dark Lord's return. Something seemed to have snapped in him after his stint in Azkaban, almost as though the Dementors had managed to take a bit of his soul while he was there. I feared the Ministry planned to send him back; if they did it would probably kill him.

No one stopped us when we left the Great Hall. I suppose they knew where to find us.

Home was not much better than Hogwarts. It still held the stench of the Dark Lord, his serpent, and his followers. The wards were useless; Voldemort had dismantled them in order to allow easier access for the Snatchers. I could only hope none of them lurked behind. Father did not seem to care; he went straight upstairs to his room.

I had the house-elves check for stragglers—trespassers now. I would work on resetting the wards tomorrow. Mother stayed with me until we were both reassured that all of the minions had gone. By the time I climbed into bed I didn't care—they could have returned and murdered me in my sleep; I doubt I would have awakened.
**~**
Despite my exhaustion, nightmares refused to let me sleep. I bolted upright with a scream on my lips, batting at invisible flames, heart pounding. In my dream I had missed Potter's hand and joined Crabbe in the fire.

I got to my feet, panicked, and fled to my parents' bedchamber. When I slipped inside, I saw that they were both awake. My mother peeled back the blankets and I crawled in next to her as I had when I was a child. She held me close and smoothed my hair, whispering that it was all right now, everything would be all right. I wondered.

Father said nothing.

An hour later I was awakened again by the bang of a door slamming open. A woman barged into the bedchamber.

"Cissa!" She was hysterical. I did not recognize her, but Mother pushed past me, leaving the bed to grip her by the shoulders. "Cissa, they've taken him! They took Teddy! I know you hate me now, but please, sister, I've lost them all. I can't lose Teddy, too!" She collapsed into Mother's arms.

"Who has taken him? I don't hate you, Drommy."

I glanced at my father, who had hunched back against the pillows, glaring at her balefully. I knew, then, who she was. My Aunt Andromeda; outcast of the Black family. Muggle-lover.

"Fenrir Greyback."

The name chilled me. Of all the rogues and cutthroats in the Dark Lord's service, I had feared the werewolf the most. His horrible eyes had followed me more than once and I had clung to the protection of my mother's shadow whenever he lurked inside the Manor.

"I don't know how he found us. Teddy is just a baby. Please, Cissa, I'll do anything." Andromeda burst into tears again and clung to my mother.

"Draco, go back to Hogwarts and fetch Harry Potter. The boy's mother was one of them; they will want him back. And if that is not enough, tell Potter I am calling in my debt. He will know what it means."

I gaped at her. Fetch Potter? Had she gone mad?

"Do it, Draco!" she demanded, eyes flashing.

I got to my feet and called a house-elf to bring me some clothing. By the time I stepped out of the Floo at Hogwarts I was fully dressed, although I had to look a fright. My hair was uncombed and my eyes felt like two rocks rolling in dry sockets. Hogwarts was quiet in the cold hours of morning; rubble lay everywhere.

I did not know where to look for Potter, or if he was even still here.

I started for Gryffindor Tower, thinking familiarity over practicality. It was Potter, after all. In that I was right. Gryffindor Tower still stood, but their portrait guardian was absent. After several long minutes of banging and shouting, a dishevelled Neville Longbottom opened the door.

"Malfoy?"

"I need Potter. It's urgent." At his hesitation, I snapped, "I don't even have a wand."

At that, he stepped aside and allowed me in, then led me up the winding stairs to a cramped dormitory. I was unimpressed. The rooms in the Slytherin dungeon might be gloomy, but they were much larger.

"Harry," Longbottom said and walked to the bed to give Potter a shake. The hero sat up immediately, wand in hand. His torso was bare and his hair stood up at odd angles. He looked surprisingly vulnerable, and yet not. Potter had always been an enigma in that regard.

Potter lowered his wand. "What—Malfoy?"

I glanced at Longbottom, and then at the only other occupant of the room, a snoring figure on a nearby bed. The hair was too dark to be Weasley, as I had expected. I wondered where the ginger had gone; probably sleeping with Granger somewhere, considering how wrapped around each other they had been after the battle.

"My mother sent me. My Aunt Andromeda came to tell us that Teddy has been abducted." I hoped Potter knew who Teddy was, because I had only a vague idea, even though he was related to me, apparently.

Potter did. He gasped and leaped out of bed, flinging aside his blankets and grabbing his jeans from the floor. He cast an absent Cleaning Charm on them and glared at me. "When did it happen? And how?"

"Even worse, Potter. It was Greyback."

Potter froze, his face going slack with horror, and then he seemed to restart and yanked his pyjama pants down. I didn't bother to avert my eyes—Potter's attention was on finding his shoes. He stepped into his jeans and sat on the bed without fastening them. Bloody hell, his abdomen was a sight to behold.

"Fenrir Greyback?" Longbottom whispered, voice cracking on the name.

"You stay here, Neville, and let Hermione and Ron know where I've gone. Is Andromeda at Malfoy Manor?"

I nodded. Potter had Summoned socks and flung them on before stuffing his feet into unlaced trainers. He stood and zipped his jeans. I finally dragged my eyes away from the sight just as he snatched up a t-shirt and pulled it on. He picked up a satchel from the end of his bed.

"Let's go," he said.

I hurried out with Potter on my heels.

We Floo'ed to the Manor and Potter's wand never left his hand, proving that he might follow me but he would never trust me. I didn't blame him. When we exited the fireplace into the parlour, Andromeda threw herself on him and sobbed even more loudly. My mother was present; Father had probably not bothered to get out of bed.

Andromeda explained that she had been asleep and the baby had been in the other room, surrounded by the usual infant-monitoring spells. She had heard a crash and raced into Teddy's room to find Greyback holding the baby. "Follow and I'll cut his throat!" Greyback had warned and then dived out the window.

"How long ago?" Potter asked.

"If she came straight to us, maybe thirty minutes," I said.

"I'll get him back, Andromeda. Don't worry." Despite his words, Potter sounded less than confident. He raised his wand and I leaped forwards, grabbing his arm just as he Disapparated. He shook me off when we reached our destination. "Malfoy! Are you mad? You could have Splinched us both!"

"I want to help," I said adamantly.

"You don't even have a wand!"

"Whose fault is that?" I snapped.

Potter glared at me and I glared back. "Whatever! I don't have time for this. If you can't keep up, I'll leave you behind."

He stalked down the hall. I looked around as I trailed behind. The house was little more than a cottage, full of quaint kitsch and ugly fabrics. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of the boy growing up here. The nursery looked much more inviting. The wood was dark and rich and the deep blue velvets carried at least an echo of centuries of tradition.

Glass littered the floor and rain spit fitfully through the broken window. The empty crib gave me a strange twinge—it was my cousin Greyback had taken. Tainted blood or not, it still meant something to me.

Potter climbed through the window and examined the ground. I hissed when a shard of glass tore my trousers and dug into my thigh as I stumbled through after him. Potter's sharp gaze snapped back to me and he sighed. He leaned back through the window and yelled, "Accio wand!"

A length of wood smacked into his palm. He repaired the glass with a flick and handed the wand to me. I looked at it dubiously as I took it. It seemed almost frail, made of pale wood, slender and delicate. "Whose is this?"

"Your cousin, Nymphadora. We returned it to Andromeda last night with the news of her daughter's death."

I wrinkled my nose. I didn't want a dead girl's wand! "Where is my wand?" Potter was using the one he had carried since his arrival at Hogwarts as a skinny child. I wondered what had happened to the Elder Wand, won from Voldemort's hand in the final battle.

Potter snorted, already moving away. "Don't think you're ever getting that one back."

I hurried after him, nearly demanding to know why not, but I shut up when I realized it was most likely Potter's way of being an arse. Maybe I deserved it.

Potter cast several spells and broke into a run. "Greyback went this way. Why did he run and not Disapparate?" He seemed to be speaking to himself, so I made no reply.

Potter was fast and strong. I wondered what had happened to the scrawny boy I had known. He was a man now, and pressed through gorse and nettle thickets like they were vapour. I could barely keep up, winded and scratched. The wand in my hand was wilful, uprooting bushes when I meant to only push them aside. Still, it was good to have magic at my command again. Being wandless had been crippling.

Soon I was gasping for breath. My legs burned from the unfamiliar activity and I felt a blister developing on my left foot. The air was cold, chilling the sweat that trickled down my back. The rain was fitful, but annoying. I sprawled headlong once, tripping over a root and nearly snapping the wand I held. That, more than anything, held me to the ground, heart beating rapidly.

Potter paused and I scrambled to my feet. "Go back," he said.

"No."

"You have nothing to prove," he snapped, but he was wrong. I had everything to prove.

At my obstinate silence, he shook his head and moved on, walking even faster, if such a thing were possible. We left the scrub-covered lowlands and entered a forest. I had always hated the forest and each new scratch and welt and bruise strengthened my despite. My hatred for Potter grew, also. His gait seemed effortless. He was not even breathing hard.

He paused at the top of a rise and waited for me to catch up. Despite my best efforts, I was lagging, but I refused to quit. Potter made a show of casting several spells, but I suspected it was meant for nothing. I nearly collapsed when my shaking legs pushed me up to halt next to him. I wheezed for breath, though I tried to stifle it.

"Pack," I managed. At Potter's confused look, I tried again. "Greyback. Werewolf pack."

He nodded. "Many of them turned tail and fled after the battle. Why would he take Teddy?"

Why would he do anything? I wanted to retort. I shut my eyes and forced myself to think and stop reacting to Potter. I thought back to several incidences of Greyback's posturing. He was full of talk, that one. Loved the sound of his own voice. "Ceremony," I said finally. "They don't all follow him willingly. They followed Voldemort out of fear. Most of them fear Greyback, but not all of them. There is sure to be a challenge for the pack. If he is ruthless enough to turn an infant... or kill him, the others might be less inclined to go against him."

Potter nodded. "We don't have much time."

"I'll keep up," I said resolutely.

**~**

The forest seemed endless. I wondered if Greyback intended to march across the whole of Britain. I wanted to quit. It was willpower alone that kept me going, strength of will I had rarely used since the days of repairing a Vanishing Cabinet. A dozen times I opened my mouth to tell Potter to go on without me. Each time he would turn and look at me, as if sensing my desire to give up, expecting my imminent failure. Each time I closed my mouth on the words and kept one foot moving before the other. Daylight crept up on us, warming the air. The clouds broke up and allowed the sun to shine through. Soon I was sweltering.

When I thought it could not possibly get worse, the way steepened. Potter flung himself at the rocks, finding hand and footholds, climbing the hillside like some creature born in the wild. My arms suffered as much as my legs, muscles screaming as I fought for each upward inch. With every metre I cursed Greyback. And Potter. My fingertips became raw and bloodied.

Finally, I fell. My foot slipped on a moss-covered stone and my out-flung hand could not halt my tumble. I did not fall far, thankfully, but I could not suppress a yelp when my hip slammed hard into a boulder and I dropped onto the opposite side, saved from a deadly tumble down the mountainside by a tangle of rocks.

Potter hurried back to me and yanked me to my feet. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

"I hate you," I said.

He shook his head and snorted. "You're fine. This time. Just stay here and tell the others where I've gone. They'll be along."

My jaw stung. I drew the back of my hand across it and was surprised to see it come away blooded. I hadn't noticed that wound, but it throbbed once I had touched it.

"Fuck you," I said.

"Stop being an idiot. You don't belong out here. Go back to your fancy Manor and pampered life. Haven't you learned anything?"

Potter's derision burned like a brand. "You aren't so tough," I said, sneering. "They say you only like girls who look like boys because you'll never admit to your preference for cock."

Potter hit me. I reeled back from the blow; left side of my jaw throbbing worse than the right. I supposed I deserved it, but even then I could not seem to shut up. "Did you learn that from the Mudblood?"

"You keep clinging to that pure-blood tripe," Potter said in a snarl. "Maybe if you wait around you can find another bigoted Dark Lord to follow like a mindless lapdog. I'll bet you didn't know your precious Voldemort was a half-blood. Your father knew, but I doubt he ever divulged that titbit."

"You lie!" I spat.

He rolled his eyes and stepped away from me. I had been dismissed.

I scrambled after him, anger giving me strength. I should have quit. No one would have thought lesser of me for it. No one but Potter. Of course, that was the crux of it.

He hurried, obviously trying to outdistance me. I was having none of it. I pulled myself up and over rocks, not caring when they fell away beneath me, ignoring all the new bruises and gashes. I would show the bloody bastard what a Malfoy was made of. If the fucking Dark Lord couldn’t break me, then no one could, and especially not Harry Potter.

He outdistanced me, of course. Mother said he should have died in the Forbidden Forest. He had survived a second Killing Curse. Perhaps he was unkillable, an otherworldly creature. A changeling. He certainly looked it, scrambling over rocks and bracken, hair tousled and muscles flexing, leaping easily from stone to stone where I certainly would have fallen to my death.

The summit was reached before my legs gave out completely and it was with near-sobbing relief that we started down the back side. The rocks were just as dangerous, however, and a chasm loomed ahead. Potter was well ahead of me, glancing back only rarely with a shake of his head. A fallen log lay across the gap, spanning an unknown depth. Potter crossed it with a Seeker’s grace, arms out to his sides, wand ready. I shut my eyes and wondered why we hadn’t brought brooms from the Manor. I would have killed for one.

Potter was gone when I reached the log; he had crossed over and disappeared into the brush on the far side, leaving me behind. I peered over the edge. A thirty foot drop to jagged rocks and a ribbon of water met my gaze. I sighed and examined the log. Potter had traversed it with barely a pause, and Fenrir Greyback had apparently trotted across carrying an infant. Surely I could do it. I was nimble.

The log was smooth and grey, dotted with moss in places. I removed my attention from the rocks below and gripped the slender wand more tightly. Don’t look down.

The first few steps were fine. The log was wide and smooth, worn away by wind and rain. A knot where a branch had broken free jutted from the centre. I stepped over it easily and dared to take a breath. Over halfway across. No problem.

Of course that was when it happened. The smooth wood was a bit too smooth, and wet in places from the earlier rain. My left foot slipped and I sprawled forwards, clutching at the log and banging my right knee so hard that I saw stars. To my horror, I began to slip. I flung one leg out, trying to catch the knot with my foot. I felt it graze my toes and then my legs fell free, pulling me down.

My left hand caught in a crack and I nearly screamed as it took my full weight. I hung from one tired arm, thankfully still gripping the wand in my other hand. I fought down panic. It wasn’t a huge drop; I might not necessarily die. I shut my eyes, dangling. Think, damn you, are you a wizard or not? But what to cast?

I felt my fingers slipping. Bloody hell, Draco, think of something, I admonished myself in a panic. Bizarrely, a Permanent Sticking Charm came to mind and I pictured myself stuck to the log in the middle of bloody nowhere until my corpse rotted and blew in the wind.

My fingers slipped again and I forced myself to focus. Cushioning Charm it would have to be, and I could only hope the rocks were not sharp enough to nullify it.

Suddenly a hand gripped my wrist. My eyes snapped open and I nearly shrieked, expecting Greyback’s face to be leering over me, ready to throw me to my doom.

Instead, Potter’s serious visage met my terrified gaze. “I’ve got you!” he yelled. “Hang on!”

Without letting go, he cast a spell that lengthened part of the branch, growing it out from the fallen log and curving it downward until it brushed my knee. I braced my leg upon it and pushed, hoping it was strong enough to hold my weight as I flung my other arm back over the branch. Potter kept one hand on my wrist and the other moving his wand, lifting the branch and elevating me until I could crawl back onto the log. Once there, he put away his wand and inched backwards until he knelt on the embankment, never letting go of my arm.

When I felt hard ground beneath my knees I collapsed on him, overcome with relief. To my horror, I began to shake. Potter’s arms wrapped around me and I clung to him helplessly. Tears blurred my vision and I shut my eyes to keep from sobbing like a frightened child.

“It’s all right,” Potter said and stroked my hair. “It’s a natural reaction to an adrenalin overdose. You’ll be fine in a bit.”

Potter smelled delightful. He shouldn’t have, considering how much walking and climbing we had done, but he smelled earthy and strong and altogether good. He felt even better. I hated to let go.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered into his shoulder.

“What?”

I lifted my head and spoke into his neck instead. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I’m sorry for the stupid, vicious things I say. I don’t mean half of them. I’m sorry to be an utter fuck-up and I’m sorry my family got involved with that complete bloody madman—creature—mad thing. I’m sorry I’m cross and sour and unpleasant whenever you are around.” The words tumbled forth, as if letting one escape had invited a stampede. “I’m sorry for always saying the wrong thing and I’m sorry about the… what I said earlier. I don’t care if you like blokes. In fact, I prefer it. Not that you do. But if you did, that would be lovely. Not for me, of course, because you hate me, but for some other lucky fellow.” Potter had stiffened in my arms. Shut up, Draco! I admonished myself. Shut up, shut up! With effort, I clamped my jaw shut. Stupid bloody adrenalin.

Potter pulled away and I braced myself for a hex or another punch. The ground was covered in clover. I studied it rather than meet his eyes, searching half-heartedly for a four-leaved clover. I could use some luck.

“You should stop saving me,” I whispered finally.

“It’s sort of what I do,” he said. I dared to meet his eyes, to find him watching me with a smile, and not a sneer of disgust, as I had expected. He reached out and gripped my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go find Teddy.”

I climbed to my feet, feeling steadier and less like I might lose the contents of my stomach. It wouldn’t be much—I hadn’t eaten since early the previous day, busy fighting a war and all. Potter let go and turned away. I was nearly overcome for a moment, realizing I had been fighting a war against him. It suddenly seemed pointless and petty. I had been face to face with death too many times recently. Maybe it was time to learn a thing or two.

He walked quickly, but glanced back frequently, apparently not planning to abandon me again. I quickened my pace because of it. Thankfully, once past the chasm, the going was easier. The forest was not quite so thick with undergrowth and the decline was gradual.

“How do you know where we’re going?” I asked.

Potter lifted his wand. “Sniffer Charm. Greyback left some fur back on the broken window. We can follow his trail for about twelve hours, and then it will fade.”

I frowned. Something about that did not seem right. Wizards were always careful with their hair and Greyback should have been even more so. Bursting through a window seemed the height of stupidity. Why not use the door?

I jogged to catch up. “Potter—“ I started, but he grabbed me suddenly, one hand digging into my bicep and the other pressed against my chest, holding his wand steady.

“Shhhh,” he said.

I froze, heart beating. Potter did not let go, but his attention was elsewhere. After a moment I realized he was listening intently. I tried not to breathe while I listened also.

Faintly, I heard it. The sound of voices, carried on the wind. Potter released my arm and put a finger to his lips. I nodded impatiently. Of course I would be quiet; I certainly had not come this far to become werewolf fodder.

Potter crouched and crept forward, picking his way on hands and knees. I wrinkled my nose, but I dropped and followed. My clothing was already ruined. I was bloody and bruised. A bit of crawling would make little difference.

I paused and cast a barely audible Silencing Charm on Potter and followed it with a Scent Mimic. Potter blinked at me, but he obviously had never been around werewolves such as Greyback’s. Their senses of smell were nearly as good as a dog’s, and they could hear better than average, as well. If we were near a gathering of them, they would pick us out soon enough. Cold sweat trickled down my back, despite my exertion and the humid warmth of the day.

We crawled onward silently, alert for any noise, heading towards the voices. Potter halted and waved at me. I hurried to sprawl beside him and we peered beneath a concealing shrub. A small fire burned in a clearing ahead and three men stood around it while one crouched and used a stick to poke at the embers.

“…village and then we smashed in all the windows we saw. It was great fun.”

I recognized the speaker—one of Greyback’s underlings. I shuddered. They were all horrible; more animal than man even though they walked on two legs.

The one poking the fire snorted. Another spoke up and began to regale them with a tale of savagery that threatened to turn my stomach. Potter nudged me and pointed. I stared beyond them and noticed a collection of tents, so well-camouflaged that they blended almost completely with their surroundings. We would have stumbled straight onto the encampment if the idiots hadn’t been chattering.

Suddenly, one of the tent flaps moved and Greyback emerged. “You stupid bastards,” he snarled. “What did I tell you about being silent? And put that bloody fire out. Do you want the fucking Aurors down on us?”

The others were sullen, drawing back to watch Greyback kick at the fire with his feet and stomp out the licking flames.

“Why did you even bring the brat here if you expect it to draw Aurors? Kill it and be done with it.”

“I don’t have to explain my reasons to the likes of you,” Greyback growled. “Now go patrol and keep your fucking eyes peeled. It will be clear soon enough. The moon rises tonight.”

The others looked at one another and nodded, licking their lips. One shivered with what looked to be excitement and another threw back his head to let loose a howl—quickly cut off when Greyback cuffed him with a meaty fist.

“Do you not comprehend the meaning of quiet?”

The werewolf glared and bared his teeth, but he slunk back like a cowed dog. A cowed dog that would turn on its master at the first opportunity.

“C’mon,” one of them said and they all left the area, one passing so close to me and Potter that they could have discovered us easily without the Scent Mimicking Charm. I breathed easier once they had gone. Greyback stomped one last ember and then entered the tent again.

Potter motioned with his hand and I cancelled the Silencing Charm.

“Did you hear? They said ‘kill the brat’ so Teddy must still be alive!” he murmured.

I nodded. Alive, yes, but had he been bitten?

Potter sat up and opened the satchel he had been carrying. It looked far too small to hold the length of shimmering cloth he withdrew. Granger’s magic, I supposed.

Potter got to his feet and slung it on, then leaned down to me. Only his face was visible. “I’m going in,” he said. “Stay here, but be ready. We might have to run for it.” He gnawed his lip for a moment and I looked away. Now was not the time to notice Potter’s mouth. “Do you think it’s safe to Apparate with a baby?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

Potter scowled, but he nodded and pulled the hood down. I renewed the Scent Mimicking Charm on him as he left. No sense making it any easier on Greyback. I watched intently for long minutes, until the tent flap parted and dropped again. Potter was inside.

Something nudged my foot and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I craned my neck and found one of the werewolves peering down at me. Another stood next to him.

“Look what we have here. A pretty little spy.”

“A Malfoy spy,” said the other, eyes narrowing.

I reacted without thinking, flinging myself to my feet and running for all I was worth. I raced across the clearing and into the trees on the other side, intent upon drawing them away from Potter. I could have Disapparated, but I knew Potter would never Apparate with Teddy; he would not chance it. Even with the cloak, it was possible the werewolves would smell the baby. I needed to buy Potter some time.

Of course, I had forgotten the sheer speed of the beasts, as well as the pack mentality. This group must have been living—and hunting—together for a long time. I saw a blur of movement and changed direction, and did so again before I realized I was being herded. Fuck!

I tried to Apparate then, only to find I could not. The place had been draped with Anti-Apparition Charms. Bloody Greyback. Father had thought him stupid, but I knew better.

I fought them off as best I could, knocking out three of them and casting desperate Shield Charms to fend off various spells. They did not fight like normal wizards, however, preferring to feint and draw attention while others circled behind. They also had no honour—one of them threw a stone at me that would have clipped my forehead had I not raised an instinctive arm. The blow left my arm tingling with pain and made my next few casts sluggish. The unfamiliarity of the wand was not helping.

Finally one of them tackled me from behind and wrested the wand from my grasp. "What are you doing here, boy?" he asked, sitting on my back and pulling my head back with a hand in my hair. His fetid breath wafted over me as he spoke. I coughed.

"Want to join up," I lied.

He snorted. "Sure you do, kid. But if that's true..." I felt a hot tongue glide over the shell of my ear. "...then I can hardly wait."

Without removing his grip from my hair, he yanked me to my feet.

"Let's go see Fenrir."

"Forget Fenrir!" one of them snapped. "Let's do 'im right ‘ere."

I cringed, half-expecting the slash of teeth or claws tearing at me. The one holding me pushed me roughly before him. "If you think you're strong enough to take on Greyback, you're stupider than I thought. We'll go see him and then you can bring up your plan to cross him."

The other snarled and I hoped for a fight between them, but as usual my luck was wretched. My captor shoved me again. I stumbled forwards, nearly falling, but gained my feet and walked, throwing him a glare as I did so. I was terrified, but I dared not show it. Any sign of weakness turned them into mindless, savage beasts. I had seen it before.

"Why you want to join us, Malfoy?" another asked.

"The Dark Lord is dead and the Ministry is out for my blood. I tried to kill Potter."

One of them hooted with laughter. "Daddy can't protect you?" The others joined in, laughing unpleasantly. My face flamed and I burned with rage that my father had become a laughingstock. He once would have had their entrails for daring to insult him.

"He has his own troubles," I replied and then shook off the thought. I did not want to think about my father, not now.

“And so do you,” he said with a grating chuckle. “Like father, like son.”

Without further comment, I stalked to the clearing where Greyback had stamped out the fire. Several embers still smouldered there, sending up miniature spirals of smoke.

“Fetch Greyback,” my captor ordered. One of the werewolves snarled, but obeyed, snatching aside the tent flap and disappearing inside. He was a brave one; I had seen Greyback tear a man to pieces for disturbing him from a nap.

The tent opening parted again and he returned with a shocked expression. “Fenrir is unconscious!”

I was disappointed in Potter. Unconscious instead of dead? Damned soft-hearted Gryffindor. Of course, without that soft-heartedness, I would be ashes in the Room of Hidden Things right now. The fact that Potter had escaped was more of a relief than I had expected.

“What about the brat?”

“Gone!”

The werewolf turned to me, golden eyes narrowing. His lips parted over sharp-looking crooked teeth. “Know anything about this, boy?”

I shook my head and then ducked the blow when it came. Brutality was so predictable. Naturally, he followed it with a kick that I could not avoid so easily. Pain exploded above my knee and I fought to keep my footing. His hand tore at my hair again and I winced, thinking I would be prematurely bald if I lived. He dragged me closer.

“Perhaps you will be more cooperative when you are one of us. Wait until the full moon stretches your bones and splits your skin. When the bloodlust comes upon you and makes tender morsels like yourself seem like little more than an afternoon snack, you will spill your guts readily enough. You’ll sell your own mother to make the pain stop.” Hot breath panted over my throat and sharp teeth scraped the flesh there, sending a spike of terror through me. Could they turn me if they were not in full werewolf form? I tried to remember what had happened to Bill Weasley. Was he a werewolf now, like Remus Lupin?

“Get away from him!” someone snapped.

For a moment, hope flared, but then I recognized Fenrir Greyback’s snarl and the werewolf pushed me aside, revealing the hated visage of Greyback. The cold yellow eyes appraised me.

“Draco Malfoy. How nice of you to join us. Tell me, what has happened to my babe?”

I shook my head, putting on my “Death Eater Mask”—the expressionless visage I had worn in the presence of the Dark Lord that revealed nothing, except during moments I could no longer hold it. For an instant, I remembered the murder of Charity Burbage, but I shoved it away. Guilt and sentimentality held no place here; I would deal with such things later, if I survived.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said coldly.

Greyback strode closer and I forced myself not to shrink back, holding my ground with effort. “Curious that you are here just when someone stole into my tent and took my little sacrifice. Bit of a stretch to be coincidental, don’t you think, Draco?”

I shrugged. “Coincidence is not necessarily rare.”

Greyback chuckled, but the sound did not placate me. Just the opposite, in fact, since he seemed to be fairly thrumming with rage. I kept my eyes on his claws, alert for any movement.

“Always the clever one, aren’t you, Draco? Always ready with the perfect insult at a moment’s notice.”

I said nothing, knowing that to speak would be to invite another blow, or worse. Already I felt dizzy. Yesterday had been exhausting; I’d had barely any sleep, no food, nothing to drink, and had been scratched, punched, tripped, sliced, nearly killed by a fall, and brutalised by werewolves.

“I will only ask you once more.” Greyback stepped nearer and flung out a meaty hand to clench it around my throat. He squeezed until everything took on a hazy shade of grey and I gasped for air. “Who. Took. The. Baby?”

I strove to drag enough air into my lungs to answer. I like to think I would have lied, but in truth I might have sold out everyone I knew in order to buy a few more moments of life. Despite everything, I wanted to live.

“I did,” someone said in an implacable tone.

I expected claws to rake across my neck, but Potter was faster. Greyback stiffened and fell and then all was chaos. I could breathe again, and then I couldn’t, because Potter was there, holding me tightly while hexes flared around us. I admit I clung to him, not quite able to believe I had been snatched from the jaws of death yet again.

He was not alone, thankfully. Soon the clearing was full of Potter’s friends and the werewolves were either on the ground or fleeing. Potter’s wand stopped spitting curses and he pulled me into the woods away from the remains of the battle.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“You keep saving me,” I said stupidly.

“Hard habit to break,” he replied.

I buried my head in his shoulder and he escorted me to a fallen log where we sat in silence while I let the horror of Greyback’s touch fall away. I could not make myself let go of Potter. I did draw back, however, and tried to regain my composure. “You Apparated with Teddy.”

“I had to. I couldn’t let you…” He looked away. “I saw them all go after you. “

“How is he?” Not bitten, I hoped, though Potter’s demeanour would have told me, I think.

“Squalling madly in his grandmother’s arms when I left, but he seems fine. No bites or scratches, and he survived Apparition. I guess babies are hardier than we give them credit for.”

“You certainly were.”

He chuckled. It was a nice sound. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Why did you come back for me?”

He brushed the hair away from my eyes and touched the bruise he had left on my jaw. “Remember what you said earlier?”

I nodded, leaning into his touch even though I hated myself for it.

He exhaled slowly, as if he had been holding his breath. “Well, I don’t hate you,” he said. With that, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. Surprise kept me from reacting.

He pulled back and smiled. “But that’s not why I came back for you.”

I blinked at him. “You just kissed me.”

Potter laughed and that was even better than his chuckle. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Will you kiss me again?” I asked, resisting him as he tried to haul me to my feet.

“Now?”

I nodded; I might have been in shock, but I was not stupid enough to waste such a moment again. Voices sounded nearby; soon we would be surrounded by his friends and I doubted they would be accepting if they found us together in such a fashion. They would likely think I had him under an Imperious Charm.

Potter leaned in again and this time I was prepared. He tasted of dust and sweat—although that was probably me—but only for a moment, and then our lips were sliding together and linking with gentle suction, once, then again, and once more for good measure. When he pulled away I was panting and the light-headedness had returned.

"Wait," I said, "what about—?" the ginger bint I nearly said, but the reference probably would do me no favours in advancing... whatever this was. "What about Weasley? The girl one?"

"Um... we broke up. Before the war. I haven't seen her much since then, with everything happening."

Broke up. Potter's response provoked more questions than it answered, but the fact that he had not sought her out immediately after the battle with Voldemort spoke volumes. At least I hoped it did.

Leaves crunched and Potter got to his feet, pulling me along this time, but his arm slid around my waist and he did not let go. Granger was the first to arrive, looking militant. Her brows rose at Potter’s proximity to me, but she only said, “We got most of them. Ron is watching Greyback.”

“Bind him,” I advised. “He is resistant to Stunners.”

“I noticed,” Potter said dryly. “He should have been out for hours after mine. Bit of a shock to find him threatening you.”

"How did they get this?" Granger asked and held up Nymphadora's wand.

Potter held out his hand for it and Granger released it. Potter gave it to me and I stopped clinging to him in order to take it. I pushed away and stood alone. "I don't think Andromeda will mind you using it," Potter said.

I nodded. It had been serviceable, but I wished for my own back. I wondered if Potter could be persuaded to part with it. I gave him a speculative look.

He smiled. "I'm going to help clean up here. Can I call on you, later?"

I flushed at his terminology. He had no idea what it meant in pure-blood terms, but I nodded anyway. "You know where to find me."

With that I Apparated home to face my mother's reprimands, my aunt's gratitude, and possibly, just possibly, the promise of a brighter future.

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