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Keep This Wolf	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20229 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
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- 18
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Seventeen—Prepare the Web
            “I never did get a chance to test the cube on your mind.”
            Potter, who was standing in a small clearing in the forest not far from his house, just shrugged. He had come here on purpose, Draco knew, and that purpose had something to do with the politics of the pack. But he hadn’t explained, and Draco wasn’t about to beg for clarification. “I’ll trust you that it will work,” he said. “And without ensnaring the minds of my pack. If it does, I would hurt you.”
            The way he said it was what impressed Draco. He had heard threats, including ones from other Unspeakables and from some desperate owners who wanted their artifacts back. But this had no bluster. It was a fact.
            Draco was still watching Potter when the first werewolf came walking into the clearing: Woolwine, who had met him on the path when he first came. She looked at him, then at Potter, and said, “Sir, if you listen to me now…”
            “I know,” said Potter, without moving any part of his body other than his jaw. “But you’ll have your chance to speak against him. You need to know what’s going on first.”
            Woolwine paused, either decided that was fair or couldn’t come up with anything to say against it, and settled on the ground with a faint sniff. Draco saw others come piling in behind her. He kept watching her, though. He thought most of the other werewolves would take their cue from her.
            Her or Potter, it seemed. When they saw Draco, they glanced at Potter. Potter only nodded majestically. That made them sit down, but most of them kept at least a foot of distance between them and Draco.
            The only exception was Lisa, the woman Potter had tested his magic on in front of Draco. Maybe she thought he had already seen her at her worst. She sat down with her body curved over her knees, everything bent and huddled, except for her gleaming eyes, which fixed on Potter.
            “The Ministry is probably going to battle us soon.”
            The way that the werewolves reacted to Potter’s announcement made Draco snort. They should have known what was going on—the Ministry sent a negotiator, they sent him back, that negotiator tried to interfere in the smooth running of the pack—but they leaped to their feet and, in a few cases, howled. Draco was proud of himself for sitting still instead of letting memories overwhelm him and make him react badly to that howling. These were not Fenrir Greyback and his kin, and in part of himself, he had remembered that.
            Potter waited until the howling died away, then continued. “There’s evidence of a deeper plot than just Minister Hinsley’s against us. Some of you know about the vampire I consort with.”
            Draco doubted the phrasing was originally his, and thought that confirmed when Woolwine lifted her head. “Did you finally decide to give him your blood?” she asked, and her nostrils worked as though she was sniffing for some sign of that on Potter’s neck.
            Potter simply nodded. “It was in return for information in the Ministry about who was behind sending Unspeakable Malfoy to us. He gave us two names that we already knew about—Minister Hinsley, because of the part that Thornsberry played in attacking his son, and Invisible Heldeson of the Unspeakables, because…” He turned to Draco. “Can you reveal what exactly the Unspeakable interest in this is?”
            Draco paused once, not because of old loyalties but to organize his thoughts, and then said, “I don’t think what she told me was the truth. But part of it probably comes from the desire the Department of Mysteries has to cooperate with the other Departments in the Ministry sometimes, because otherwise we—they—would get the reputation as too stubborn to be worth bothering with. If they cooperate, then their thefts of artifacts and the like get tolerated.”
            Someone muttered incredulously under their breath, but Potter only nodded, as if he had been aware of political realities like this all along. “And you think that there’s another part?”
            “Yes,” said Draco. “Is there anything here—artifact, or magic, or anything like that—that’s unusual or strong or not well-understood? Because that’s the sort of thing the Unspeakables would be interested in.”
            For an instant, gazes darted among the werewolves in the clearing as if they all suspected each other of hiding the Sword of Gryffindor. Then Woolwine showed her teeth and said, “I can think of one thing.”
            Potter pivoted to face her, and Draco did the same thing. Woolwine only looked at Potter when she answered, which Draco supposed he understood but which was annoying anyway. “You, sir. The magic you have that’s so much stronger than the magic of other werewolf leaders.”
            Potter exhaled in annoyance. “But you lot understand how it works. All they would have to do is send in a spy, say another werewolf they’ve tamed and kept dependent on them by the use of Wolfsbane. Not a negotiator. Or they could find the answer by searching in books. They’ve made this a lot more mysterious than it actually is.”
            “Did you know about a pack leader’s ability to soothe someone or drive them into exile before you became a werewolf?” Draco had to ask.
            Potter glanced at him, frowning. “Well, no. But I felt the power of the first leader I encountered after that, and then when I had questions, they explained things to me.”
            “But you can’t ask a werewolf pack,” Draco murmured, mouth heavy with what felt like poisoned honey. “They might lie. They might not know. They’re non-human, you know, there’s no way to trust them or control them. And for one night of the month, they’re little more than mindless beasts. Of course it would be better if you sent a human that you controlled to investigate, and report back to you on what might be exciting new magic.”
            Potter looked at him with bitter wonder. “You think that that’s it? As simple as that? They couldn’t trust us, so they sent you?”
            “Maybe,” said Draco. “But it seems stupid of them to disbelieve the reports that I made, which were consistent with the ones that werewolves would have given them. Could anyone be that stupid?”
            Woolwine broke in, maybe impatient with having a conversation be between her pack leader and the “traitor” who had harmed them. “Are those the only people who plotted against us?”
            “No,” said Potter slowly, although he didn’t take his eyes from Draco. “There was also the name of Dolores Umbridge.”
            For a moment, a mild earthquake seemed to shake the ground, and Draco put his hands down to brace himself. Then he realized it was the concerted growls of a werewolf pack, even the mild-looking Lisa. Their eyes and teeth flashed and made them look less than human. Draco reminded himself of the artifacts he carried; shamefully, that was the only thing that let him sit still instead of flee.
            Potter didn’t join in the growling. He nodded. “You’ve had experience with her?”
            “She was the reason I came here!”
            “She told me that I couldn’t have a wand during the war, when I was still a Muggleborn.”
            “She said that werewolves should all be exterminated!”
            Draco blinked a little, as his vision of their potential field of action widened. He had thought it would be him and Potter acting essentially alone, because of Umbridge’s personal grudge against both of them and theirs against her, but it seemed they would have all the support they wanted if they chose to claim it. How interesting.
            Potter looked from face to face, maybe estimating their sincerity, or smelling it out, from the way his nostrils fluttered. Draco was content enough to leave them to it. He knew no one except the malcontents.
            Then Potter nodded and said, “All right. Kristen, June, Oswald, I want you to be in charge of preparing the Forest against an attack. We think it might be coming, now that Unspeakable Malfoy has decided to stay with us instead of return to his kind.” Draco prepared a brittle smile against the stares that turned on him, wishing he had known Potter was going to say that. “Sarah, I want you to work with Unspeakable Malfoy on this artifact he’s prepared that might help protect our territory.”
            “Yes, sir,” said Woolwine, and she looked as sleek and satisfied as though she’d devoured a deer.
            “If she works with me, what are you going to be doing?” Draco demanded, and ignored the growls that his demand attracted. He had thought he and Potter would work together to try and investigate the Ministry. If that was going to be put off, he bloody well deserved to know why, and what was going to happen next.
            “I?” Potter’s smile had a peculiar edge to it. “I’m going to be exploiting my fame.”
            Draco thought he knew what that meant. There were people in the Ministry who had cried out it was unfair and unjust when Potter was infected and then regulated under the same procedures that were supposed to confine other werewolves. Potter probably still had friends in the Ministry, if he looked for them—people who would come flocking to his aid and his side because of who he was, if not what.
            “I don’t think so,” said Draco. “Not alone. I’m willing to demonstrate my artifact to your followers so they understand it and don’t get their minds snared in it, but this is my fight as much as yours.”
            “I wasn’t thinking of going directly to the Ministry,” said Potter, and frowned at Draco. “I was thinking of contacting people there. I can do that as well as the two of us combined can.”
            “You weren’t thinking of going? Really?” Draco cocked his head. “Because I was.”
            The plan hadn’t been solid until then, but it had been brewing in the back of his mind, ever since Paracelsus had cried that last name as he ran through the Forest. Namely, that they couldn’t really trust an obsessed vampire who had done what he had done only for Potter’s blood, and then betrayed whatever word he had given Potter the minute he sank his fangs into that blood.
            Draco wanted to see for himself. And there was at least one opening he had that Potter didn’t: he had, the last the Unspeakables knew, been a human in good standing, unlike Potter, whose lycanthropy was well-known.
            “I don’t think you should go into danger, sir,” said Woolwine, and gave Potter a meaningful stare that Potter returned.
            “It wouldn’t be dangerous,” said Draco. “Not if we did it once, and soon, and under controlled conditions.”
            “I know what Unspeakables consider controlled conditions,” said Woolwine, and her voice was cracked through with bitterness. “There’s not much you could do that’s more dangerous. Sir.” She turned and faced Potter. “I gave you my loyalty because I thought you could do great things with it. Don’t devalue my sacrifice by going into the middle of danger that you don’t need to go into the middle of.”
            “Only on the ground can we be absolutely sure of things,” said Draco. “Maybe there’s more to this than we know. Maybe Umbridge isn’t involved after all.” He didn’t actually think that was likely, as it would be a random name for the vampire to bring up, but then again, Paracelsus had struck him as a random creature, and a treacherous one. “We need to go there and see for ourselves. It’s the only way to be sure.”
            Potter’s face was distant, shadowed, pale. Draco wondered abruptly how much of that came from blood loss rather than lack of confidence. Potter hadn’t taken time to eat or rest before he convened the pack.
            “All right,” he said abruptly. “One short mission, tonight, to investigate.” He looked at Draco, and his face had gone cool again. “Whatever the results, we return tonight. And we use the knowledge we may have gained to face the Unspeakables when they come. Agreed?”
            “I don’t like that you’re putting yourself in danger, sir.” Woolwine folded her arms. “That’s my considered opinion.”
            “I do consider it,” said Potter. “And thank you. But I think Unspeakable Malfoy is probably right.”
            He could find some other title to call me, when he knows that I’ve rejected the one I was using. But Draco knew that a title of some sort was necessary to command respect from the pack, so he said nothing—for the moment.
            “Isn’t it rather mad to go into the heart of a Ministry that wants at least one of you out of the way?” One of the women Potter had commanded to defend the pack lifted her head, calm as a wolf. “They might not care to kill you now, but they could catch you and kill you there, and say that they were defending the Ministry from the attack of a bloodthirsty beast.”
            “That will only happen if he’s caught,” said Draco.
            He received a glare as cold as any that might have come from a fellow Unspeakable. “Hence why I specified,” said the woman, each word almost a separate sentence.
            Draco would have interjected something, but Potter did it first. “I think what Unspeakable Malfoy means is that he can keep me safe,” he said, and faced Draco. “Can’t you?”
            Draco grimaced. He would have enjoyed the confrontational air Potter wore better if they were alone. Someone might get overenthusiastic, thinking they had Potter’s backing for an attack, this way.
            But he had never been one to back down from a challenge, and especially not a challenge from Potter. He lifted his head back, trying to mimic the self-assurance of the woman who had questioned him. “I can. Or I wouldn’t have promised it in the first place.”
            Grunts and growls from around him said what Potter’s people thought of that, but Potter cut them all off by saying, “Good. Then we’ll go.” He stepped out from the center of the circle and moved to the edge of the clearing, to speak with the woman who had questioned Draco, and two others, presumably the ones who were taking care of the defense while he was gone.
            Woolwine leaned in to Draco, her smile pleasant if you were blind to nuance. “Just remember that we know who left with our leader,” she murmured. “And remember how unpleasant we can make your life, if we want to.”
            “I’m not trying to hide from you,” said Draco. “There’s danger to this for me, too. I would never have volunteered if I didn’t think that I could keep us safe.” Irritated, he struck back. “And weren’t you the one who would have liked to see Potter deposed just a little while ago?”
            “You understand nothing of what it means to a werewolf, to belong to a proper pack,” said Woolwine, eyes fixed back on Potter. “And now I do.” She flicked a corner of an eyelid and the corner of a lip at Draco, so he could see the edges of her teeth. “So don’t muck it up.”
            Draco would have liked to retort, but Potter had turned around from his conversation and was clearly waiting for him. So Draco did nothing more than flick an eyelid back in return, thinking that concealing his contempt from Woolwine for now might actually make it more devastating when he did reveal it, and stood and walked over to Potter.
            Potter jerked his head at him and began to jog into the woods. Draco went with him, stifling the impulse to snarl. He wasn’t a werewolf, which they kept reminding him of. Why did he need to be commanded and ordered around like one?
            But Potter turned around when they were a distance away into the woods that even werewolf senses must not be able to penetrate—well, he would know—and gave Draco an intent, serious glance. “I trust you. I don’t want my people to take vengeance on you. But I haven’t been back to the Ministry since I was bitten. So I’ll have to rely on you to lead things.”
            “If you said that you trust me, why should that be a problem?”
            Maybe more of the roughness came through his voice, or his scent, than he wanted to admit to feeling. Potter’s face subtly changed, and he reached up and tightened his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for the reception of my pack. It’s the way things are when a lot of them have fully accepted me as leader. And the Ministry hardly has the best record when dealing with werewolves.”
            Draco wanted to say that he wasn’t part of the Ministry anymore, but, of course, he had been until very recently. He struggled once more, and then nodded. “All right. So what you want me to know is that I’m the leader.” That sounded strange. Draco couldn’t remember being the leader of anything since his position in Slytherin House had collapsed in the wake of the war.
            “Yes. I’ll help when I can, but that probably won’t be very often.”
            Potter’s eyes fixed, gleaming, on him. Draco told himself that this was not a greater responsibility than any he’d had in years, and if his legs were so foolish as to tremble, then he would find a way of traveling without them.
            He sucked in a deep breath to prepare himself and nodded instead. “All right. So. We’ll leave the Forest via Hogsmeade…”
*
BAFan: Thank you!
Tommy-Lane: Interesting, or dangerous!
SP777: I don’t intend to kill him, but Paracelsus is going to be in deep trouble if he shows up again.
And thanks for the compliments on the action scenes!
Jester: Harry doesn’t know if he’d be able to trust him to only make ‘teasing’ attempts to hurt Harry, either.
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