Lupine Dreams

BY : Wolfling1972
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione
Dragon prints: 6138
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, that belongs solely to JK Rowling, neither am I making money from this story. I just enjoy playing in her world

(AN: Major Noncanon element: werewolf bite instead of dark mark, most known book events have been tweaked just enough to make them plausible for this type of story but will be referenced or written about. Ignores the Epilogue completely but follows most of the timeline for HPB and DH. The werewolf book named is noted in the commentary provided by Dumbledore left to the Hogwarts Archive before death and is canon via JK Rowling's own writings for same ) 

There was agony which seemed to work its way from his blood outward, carrying the call of the moon deep beneath the skin. He was only sixteen, not old enough for anything that had been asked of him, not really, and yet THEY had wanted to mark him. Worse, he had this...this pain. He could hear the screams, his own and his mother's, but there was nothing from the weak-willed man he had once called father, no sound from him at all. Another bite, sharp teeth attached to a muzzled form, which dug deep into the muscle of his chest, a chest that was now riddled with blood and fire. 


His throat ached.


It felt raw and bloodied as the pain grew and grew, yet he could not stop screaming until blackness roared up and drew him down, down, down. Into silence, surcease, cessation. There was no light found, only the stench of copper, iron, bile. So many fucking scents that he couldn't ignore, avoid,  forget. Until he did, once the black blankness erased everything that made up his world and he could float into the nothing.


The young man awoke in his room ensconced in his soft bedding and held within the silence of cool gray walls.  He felt surrounded by the touches of warmth created by the antique oak furniture that graced the outlying areas, little spots of familiarity in a cavern he had once loved. However, safety was difficult to keep, now that a snake had taken up residence. Well, two snakes, one who slithered while the other walked on two feet as if it were a man. Draco knew though that it was not a man, never a man. A thing. A half-blood thing. A thing his father had allowed to take over their home.


A thing that had punished the son for the sins of the father.


He could have forgiven his father for his ineptitude. It would have been hard but he could have, eventually, if only to please his mother. He could have forgiven the man for his demand that Draco consent to having a writhing brand (something he would NOT do) on his arm as well as being tasked with impossibilities. It would have rankled no matter what his mother wanted, but he would have fought himself to accomplish it. However, a bite? Being turned into a bloodthirsty dog? A mutt? All in an attempt to punish Lucius Malfoy?


No. He would never forgive that.


Ever.


Just then, the sound of his doorknob being turned drew his attention and moments later his mother, Narcissa, entered the room still dressed in blood-drenched robes, her usually fine blonde hair in disarray. Just behind her, the gaunt form of Professor Snape was noticed; his dark squinting eyes, hooked nose and thin mouth in stark contrast to the extreme pallor of his skin.


"Draco, how do you feel," his mother queried, her voice a mere murmur of sound which stopped and started again with a hitch.


"Just peachy, mum. How are you," the blond young male snapped in return, only feeling a touch of guilt that soon left as pain radiated from his throat, chest, and the scarred bits of flesh that raked his left side, clawed into the pale marble of his skin.
Tears immediately filled his mother's eyes, the sapphire hues now awash with the glimmers of pain and unspeakable anguish that the woman fought hard to contain. It was Snape's sonorous baritone that halted the pity party.


"He made us leave you there, on the parlor floor, for over an hour, although he did allow me to seal the bites so that you would not bleed out. There was no point in trying to heal you further once we were allowed to bring you to your room. As you know, once you are bitten by a werewolf in wolf form, you are infected." The achingly slim man paused, his dark eyes meeting gray and then blue, one after the other. 


"This is why I told you to fight harder Narcissa, instead of giving in to what your husband wanted. You should have told Lucius no before he allowed The Dark Lord to come. Being bitten for refusal of the mark, something that wouldn't have been possible if HE had not come to your home, will not save Draco from punishment. In fact, it will only cause him more pain for every failure." Another pause and then, "The Dark Lord does not like half-breeds or failures and those who leave him unhappy wind up dead." 


Narcissa gave a quiet wail, her expression defeated and remorseful. "I tried, Severus, don't you think I tried? I don't want my son, my only child, to die for his father nor for me! He left us no choice!"


Snape did not coddle the woman or reach out to pat her in an act of understanding. He only turned away and sat at the large desk in the corner of the room. Silence descended, heavy, thick as despair before he spoke once more, this time directing that piercing glare at the young man who sat sullenly upon the bed.


"So, Draco, what does he require you to accomplish?"


"I am not to say, Professor. It is my task, given to me," was the stoic response.


"You will tell me. This is no game that you can play alone, boy. Whatever it is, you will require help otherwise your friends, your mother, will be in further danger."


"But, sir, I can't say. It is my task..."


"You will." That was Snape's final statement before he turned his gaze to the top of the desk. "Do you remember your lessons from your third year about werewolves and the potion they need to control the beast?"


Draco nodded and dropped his own gaze to his hands.


"I will teach you to brew it and I expect that your mother will buy you a week's supply for your first full moon."


Narcissa could only nod, her eyes shut against the pain of failure. She had failed her son, had failed to protect him as was her duty and privilege. However, a thought brought her up short and her eyes flew open. "How am I to send him back to school in this state? He could be killed! They would hunt him down! You have to protect him, Severus!"  She was panicking, her voice high and tremulous.


"I will, much better than you or his father did," the man bit out. "It was YOUR job to see him safely through the summer and you both botched it!" With a sigh, Snape pushed surprisingly supple fingers into the greasy strands of his coal-black hair. "I will do what I can though certain people will HAVE to know to properly take care of the boy."


"Who?" The fear in this one word could be plainly heard as Draco whipped his head around to stare at the man who had made such a pronouncement. "Who will be party to my shame?"


"Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey and the professors you have for the year. If you are to return to Hogwarts, they will have to be warned and a safe place made for you on the school's grounds."


This time Narcissa did wail, a high ululating sound. Snape hissed at her; "Be quiet. It is for the best. You can either keep him here thus negating whatever mission he's been given  which will get him KILLED or you can let me make sure he is protected. Those are your only options."


With a nod, Draco agreed. He had no choice. Somehow, the young man who had never wanted to kill anyone, not really, was now no more than a beast. Why not share the shame? Why not put off his own death as long as possible? It was only July, he still had over a month before he could escape into his sixth year and the tasks set before him. Thirteen months then, before he had to die. 


However, Professor Snape was not finished with the conversation. His dark gaze once more landed on Draco's worried face. "What is your task?"


Gray eyes immediately closed as if to ward off the question and the silence grew oppressive as the young man shifted against the headboard of his bed. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke. "I am to find a way into the school for selected Death Eaters." He paused, heaved a sigh and then continued. "I am also to kill Dumbledore."


"What," Narcissa murmured. "How does he expect a boy, no matter how strong, to kill the wizard who defeated Grindelwald?"


Snape gave a snort. "He doesn't. He expects Draco to die in the attempt. As for the other? I know that there is a vanishing cabinet located at Borgin's. As you already know, there is one at the school. My guess is he wants you to fix it." 


Draco shuddered against the onslaught of tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He could do neither of those things, he just couldn't. However, the young man steeled himself, allowed the Malfoy mask to settle over his features which hardened his eyes to a dark storm gray and tightened his jawline where a muscle jerked uncontrollably. He refused to look weak. Not in front of his mother, at any rate. She needed him to be strong and so he would be. He could fall apart later.


"I will find time to go to Borgin and Burke's before the start of school. No point in waiting and there is no way I want anyone else involved. I will do this on my own," Draco grimly stated. "I told you so that you would be aware but if it is at all possible for me, I will accomplish these tasks myself."


Severus only glared at the young blond before rising from the chair with a rustle of fabric, his slender hands brushing at the dusty black of his robes. "I will help, Draco, whether you want me to or not. You would do well to understand that and come to terms with it. Now, if you will excuse me..." The thin, stoop-shouldered man bowed to Narcissa and exited the room, his robes snapping with something akin to aggression.


A few minutes later, his mother also excused herself and left, her eyes filled with trepidation. Had she felt something, someone, touch the wards that protected his wing of the Manor? He didn't know and it was that lack of knowledge that chased him into the nightmares which would become his constant companions over the next year.


Interlude: First Change


He had started the Wolfsbane on the 23rd of July,  a nasty concoction which was no more than a bitter sludge, much like mud. Seven days, every morning, Mipsy arrived with the goblet and breakfast. He always swallowed the gross mess before eating, in case his body rejected it. Of course, that did not occur no matter the nastiness he swallowed, almost as if his body understood that it was needed.


Breakfast was always followed by a shower before he stepped from his room and meandered to the vast library, on a search to find out more about the wolven condition. The best book that he had found thus far was a first edition of Hairy Snout, Human Heart by an anonymous werewolf, published in 1975. Within its pages lay many discoveries including the fact that the transformation could occur on any of the three nights which were considered full, though it was most apt to happen on the second night of that phenomenon.


There was also a section on the best way to avoid harming people while changed. In fact, the author recommended that the new wolf spend time in a vast forest, surrounded by natural animals. Since actual wolves had territories and knew that the changed person was not a real wolf any territory the werewolf roamed would be avoided. This negated the urge to hunt since the prey of choice for a changed wolf was human.  Yet another option would be to lock oneself in a heavily warded cage, one that could not be unlocked without a key and surrounded by unbreakable bars. Of course, this presupposed that the wolf in question had someone they trusted to watch out for them. 


The saddest chapter not only described a wolf without a pack, a lone wolf, and the issues that came from that but also talked about mated pairs and how a werewolf would recognize his or her mate. As a precaution, the unknown author underlined the fact that most wolves did not have a mate, at least not one that was chosen for them by fate. However, if they did stumble across the witch or wizard meant for them it would make the wolf stronger and better able to control their changes, even without the use of wolfsbane.  There was also mention of the fact that most wolves longed to belong to a pack no matter how they were infected (IE either through savagery or accidentally) and that an Alpha wolf would call to them if they ever crossed one unless they were an Alpha themselves.


By the time the 30th of July was upon him, Draco had learned as much as he could about the transformation and what to expect. His mother had prepared a cell for his use, one that was far from the stairs leading up into the main house as well as adding spell after spell in an effort to keep her son safe. Draco was thankful for her foresight and at sunset, made his way to the dungeons with her by his side.


"I have warded it with three different protections. The bars have been made impregnable and can only be unlocked by me in the morning via wand," she calmly stated. "I also fixed it so that you could neither hear nor see anyone from within the cell. I figured it would make you feel safer."


Draco nodded and made his way into the small area, a square of 10 x 10. There was nothing inside, not a mat for sleep or a chamber pot, just hard stone and strong bars. With a sigh, Draco removed all but his boxers and handed the pile to his mother before he settled into a corner. "Okay, mother. Lock me in. I will be alright by morning."


As soon as the moon rose, Draco felt a heaviness, a sense of loss that crept into his bones and moved outward, bringing with it pain, so much pain. It felt unending and with each whimper he released, there was the sound of muscles ripping, reforming. He could barely scream as his mouth crept forward, as teeth filled it in and the whole of it elongated, even as he dropped to all fours. He thrashed as his hands and feet curled inward and formed large paws. Arms and legs broke, reformed, elbows and knees repurposed. Fur, long and white with hints of black and gray, covered his shuddering form and gods, it itched; he felt as if the itching would drive him right out of his mind.


Finally, where once a slender young man had stood, was a wolf. His snout was shorter than a real wolf's and his eyes had changed to an odd silver-blue hue, a touch of humanity. This form also sported a tail that was not long and bushy but shorter and tufted. He stood up and paced, his muscles rippling. Long minutes later, he paused, sniffed and then paced some more, snapped at the bars as sensitive nostrils quivered at the many scents that pervaded the very air: blood, sweat, urine, old food. A long, sad howl filled the silence and then he crept into the corner furthest from the bars and curled up, nose to tail.
He slept, thankful that the potion would allow him to do so.


Second Interlude: Mid-August


Of course, the young man felt stupid. 

One of the tasks he'd been given was his own fault since he had told both his father and Aunt Bella about the broken Vanishing Cabinet within the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. He'd heard about it during his fifth year when the Weasley twins had shoved Montague into it to avoid having house points removed. That young man had almost died after he apparated out of it and ended up in a toilet. Had Draco not found the boy and ran to get Snape, he would have never heard the story, much less learned of its use.


It was this information that had sealed his fate. Had he not mentioned it in a bid to seem more informed than he should have been in response to one the Dark Lord's many temper tantrums concerning the need to get his Death Eaters past the strong wards and protections around Hogwarts, that snake-like thing would have never tried to pressure him into taking the mark. The bite had been because of his father's failure at the Department of Mysteries (or that was what Draco believed) but the tasks were because HE had opened his big mouth.


It didn't matter as the cabinet was going to be fixed it, anyway. After all, it wasn't like there was a choice. With all of these myriad thoughts swirling, the blond wizard determined that he would go to Borgin and Burke's in an attempt to learn all he could about the aforementioned cabinet. Maybe it would be an easy fix. Of course, he had to tell his mother of the need to go and once permission had been given (with much ado and many tears) Draco had headed for the floo. 


One handful of powder and a flash of green flame later, he had appeared in the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as he stepped outside, he had turned toward Knockturn Alley and made his way to the small, disreputable antique shop. Borgin was, as usual. behind the counter and it was to this greasy git that Draco directed his queries after first filling him in about the other cabinet's location. Of course, threats had to be made, the bite and claw marks had to be shown but in the end, Borgin had proven rather helpful.


"it would have been better if you had been able to bring the cabinet to me as fixing a broken one is very fiddly work. Of course, there is an incantation Harmonia Nectere Passus and precise wand movements needed," the oily male informed the young man, "but I can teach it to you easy enough. I will even throw in some written instructions. If you follow them precisely, the twin of my cabinet should be fixed before long."


As the proprietor bent his head to the task of suiting action to his words, Draco wandered into a far corner of the dark and cramped shop, his eyes immediately alighting on the ornate black cabinet. The hulking piece of furniture struck him as being inherently evil though that was obviously not the case, especially since it had been in use during the very first wizarding war as a way for unaffiliated witches and wizards to escape the darkness of battle. Even so, he hated it on sight.


Once Borgin handed over the piece of parchment which had been covered in instructions for fixing the broken cabinet, Draco exited the shop and returned to the main thoroughfare. A feeling of need coursed through his shivering form, a need to retreat to a silent bedroom to think over the vileness he would soon be part of and there was no way Draco wanted to talk about it once he'd returned home. With that thought uppermost, he retraced his steps.


The quietude of his room would be a balm to a worried, battered soul.

(AN2: Small change, The Golden Trio did not stumble upon Draco during his visit to B&B's. I just preferred it this way. Also, please note that I am using book canon concerning the human to wolf transformation IE there is NO bipedal form ~nothing like the damned movies, A human is either HUMAN or Wolf...nothing in between with only vague differences between a real wolf and a werewolf and those vague differences are noted during Draco's transformation.)

 



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