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Rejoicing In Their Strength	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9781 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
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Thank you for all the reviews!

�� That
morning, it was rats.

�� Draco
didn�t even bother trying to stay in his skin. He fled into the astral world as
soon as Lucius brought the first cage into the room.

*

�� There had
been signs of madness long before Lucius had actually begun to torture him,
Draco thought, as he hovered in the middle of the purple mist and examined a
few of the nearer stars, which acquired extra points when he did so. His father
had always been prone to sharp stares and odd remarks. He had laughed when one
of the first Slicing Spells Draco practiced cut a snake in half, and refused to
have the house-elves remove it or kill it himself, instead intent on showing
Draco how it could writhe and snap futilely at the air as it died.

�� But without
the eventual torture, Draco had to admit, none of those small signs would have
meant anything to him.

�� Instead,
Lucius had begun to go downhill as soon as he got out of Azkaban. They were all
confined to house arrest and would be for two years. Lucius had taken to
staying in his library and reading Dark Arts books more and more often. His
mother, her arm around Draco�s shoulders, had whispered that it was his
father�s means of coping with his loss of power and freedom and Draco was to
leave him alone while he studied.

�� Draco had.
He mourned the loss of his own pride and self-respect, and so he understood
what Lucius was feeling.

�� He thought.

�� Then he had
trudged into the dining room for another cheerless meal one night and seen
fleshy wires strung above the table. Draco had halted and blinked at them, and
at the red chunks of meat dangling from them, not understanding.

�� Do you
like it?� Lucius asked behind him, voice regretful. �When I learned that your
mother was sick, I knew the only cure was to hang her by her own nerves and
tendons from the ceiling.�

�� Draco
shuddered and closed his eyes tightly. He could never forgive the self of his
memory for standing there like an oaf, staring up at the ceiling and opening
and closing his mouth as if he would find some answer in himself to what Lucius
had done.

�� Maybe he
could have got out of the house, if he ran swiftly enough. Maybe he could have
snatched his broom and flown, and when he crossed the wards that warned of a
Malfoy breaking his house arrest and the Aurors responded to the alarm, Draco
could have told them about Lucius. They would have believed him even before
they saw the ruin of Narcissa�s body. They were always willing to believe any
evil of a Malfoy.

�� Instead,
Draco had stood there and let Lucius take his arm and whisper into his ear,
�You�re sick, too. You�re tainted by Dark magic. But don�t worry. Your cure
will be less drastic than hers. I just have to find it.�

�� Dark magic, indeed, Draco thought,
closing his eyes and flipping his spiritual body around in the air, for the
sheer fun of doing something he would never be able to do again with his
physical body. As if I�d ever touch the
stuff again. It was Dark magic that unbalanced his mind in the first place. Had
to be.

�� It was easy
for Lucius to fool the Aurors when they came. They weren�t interested enough in
the fate of the Malfoys to look too closely. Lucius created a convincing
illusion of his wife that moved up and down stairs, sat at the table, and
stared haughtily. As for Draco, he was present in his own body, with the
glamour of clothes on him�Lucius said that being actually clothed would delay
his �healing��and a big fake smile plastered on his face. Lucius, meanwhile,
did most of the talking, glittering and witty and putting the Aurors at their
ease. His wand spun lightly beneath his fingers under the table, giving great
jolts to the glamoured collar that Draco wore about his neck at those times and
which would kill him if he attempted to speak a word out of turn.

�� Just
because Lucius had gone mad did not mean he had gone stupid. More was the pity,
as Draco would have had some chance at escape if he had.

�� No help to
be found in the Aurors. No help to be found anywhere,
since it was not as though Draco would be able to alert anyone when he traveled
in a body that was invisible to everyone.

�� Draco
opened his eyes again, and watched the stars change as he flipped heels over
head and head over heels.

�� You know there is one person who can see
you, or at least sense you. Harry Potter.

�� Draco began
to shiver and couldn�t stop.

�� Potter was
a werewolf, and Draco knew the change made people into Dark creatures. Potter
hadn�t sounded like one, but that
didn�t mean he wasn�t one. And Draco had never been able to trust Potter. Why
should he assume that he could now? If Potter heard his story, and laughed at
him, and left him there�

�� Draco knew
he would then be even further down the road to madness than he had been before.

�� Still,
there was one thing Potter might be able to do for him. Draco needed some
amusement and diversion when he was away from home and traveling. Someone who
could see him, and might be willing to talk to him, would be both.

�� Potter had
his own secrets to hide, that was certain. Draco occasionally heard bits and
scraps of news from the Aurors, though not much. Surely one of them would have
mentioned if their hero had been bitten by a werewolf and exiled from the
wizarding world. It would be exactly the sort of gossip that most of the public
would relish while pretending to be sorry about.

�� Draco needed to be in a position of power in
relation to someone. Taunting Potter with the revelation of his secrets would
assure that.

�� Draco turned
and dived towards the forest where he had seen Potter again, making sure this
time to imagine garments clinging to his usually naked spiritual body. Powerful
people did not appear naked outside their private rooms.

*

�� The
werewolves� clearing boiled with a restlessness that made Draco think he was
standing in the middle of a kettle. This time, he could feel the aura of
strength and lightning from every member of the pack, not just Potter.

�� Which he
was glad of, because it gave him something entertaining to watch. Potter was
nowhere in sight at the moment.

�� Celia and
Josh were wrestling in the center of the clearing, grasping one another�s arms
and necks, throwing one another from their feet, dodging clumsy grabs and
taunting each other. Draco winced as he heard the fleshy thump with which their
bodies hit the ground. Of course, they were both werewolves and had
supernatural strength, especially this close to the full moon.

�� Leila was
sitting in the door of one of the houses, frowning at a book that looked like
it might be the same one Celia had been reading yesterday. Draco dared to come
closer this time since no one was present who could see him, and raised his
eyebrows at the title. Discovering Inner
Strength.

�� That doesn�t sound like something any of
them need to do, he thought, glancing over his shoulder again in the
direction of Celia and Josh.

�� He
understood the book�s title better when he saw Hyacinth lying in the shade of
the flowering bush where Potter had spoken to her yesterday. She was panting,
her sides rising and falling, and there was a dark flush to her skin that made
her look as if she was sick. Draco crouched next to her and stared at her
tightly shut eyes.

�� She made
soft little sounds which he took for part of the panting at first, and then
realized were muted growls.

�� Potter said something about her wolf being
stronger than the rest of theirs, Draco remembered. I suppose she takes the full moon harder than they do.

�� Even as he
watched, Hyacinth flowed to her feet�Draco started back reflexively, even though
she simply passed through him as if he were a ghost�and turned to look at the
forest. Draco looked with her, but saw nothing. Hyacinth growled again and
turned three times in a circle, flinging herself down like a dog. Her eyes,
which had a distinct golden glaze to them, stared over Draco�s head into the
distance.

�� Malfoy.
Mind telling me why you�re here?�

�� Draco
swallowed. Potter had come up behind him. He slowly redirected himself so that
he was looking towards Potter, helped by the way that Hyacinth�s gaze was
steadily pointed in the right direction. It was obvious what she�d been waiting
for now.

�� Potter
leaned against a tree, cloaked in an aura like a storm. His arms were folded,
his face remote and stern, and his eyes golden-green like grass striped with
sunlight. Oddly enough, Draco found himself taking heart from the posture and
the stare. It was so exactly like the way he had expected Potter to look.

�� I was in
the area and thought I would take a look,� he answered, shrugging his
shoulders.

�� Potter
narrowed his eyes and took a deep and deliberate sniff. The rest of the pack
was drawing in now, glancing from Potter to the patch of air that contained
Draco. Draco waited gleefully for questions about Potter�s sanity to begin. It
would be nice to have some company.

�� But it
seemed the pack trusted their leader too much to ask those kinds of questions.
Celia did murmur, �Someone�s there we can�t see.�

�� Yes,�
Potter said. He spoke softly and reassuringly, though he still kept his gaze on
Draco as though measuring him up as a threat. �I can see him, though, and smell
him, and hear him. He�s an old schoolmate of mine, Draco Malfoy, who went under
house arrest a few years back.� He cocked his head, and Draco was reminded of
nothing so much as a dog about to scratch its ears. �This is your way of
evading the law and exploring all the places that you won�t get to see while
you�re under house arrest, then.�

�� It was a
ready-made excuse, and Draco seized it gratefully. He shrugged and tried to
look as bored as he was pretending to be. �Got it in one, Potter. Now. Mind
telling me how it is that you can sense me when no one else could before?�

�� Potter
smiled slightly, despite the chorus of growls from behind him and Leila�s
mutter about how he didn�t have to converse with someone who was breaking the
law already. �The werewolf�s power is a power of the body,� he answered. �It
changes the body, it sharpens the senses, it turns our eyes a different color.
Some people think it corrupts the soul, too, but I don�t agree with them�as
you�ve probably noticed if you�ve listened to my words in any detail.� He
shrugged. �I�ve already noticed that I can sense things I never could before. I
can smell a scent of lingering love around abandoned houses that people cared
greatly for, for example. I can sense faded ghosts who have mostly moved on to
the afterlife. And I can sense you.� His nostrils fluttered again, as if he
were trying to memorize Draco�s scent so that Draco could never take him by
surprise again.

�� Then why can�t
your happy band of faithful followers see me?� Draco tossed his head at the
other werewolves.

�� They
haven�t been as calm and as centered as I have been for long enough.� Potter
ran a hand through his hair. �Most werewolves, who try to deny what they are,
never pay enough attention to the wolf�s senses, and the ones who give in
completely exist in a world of madness where one perception is pretty much the
same as another. They might be able
to see you, but they wouldn�t know what they were looking at.� He gave Draco a
narrow smile. �Those words only apply to the human form, by the way. They�ll
all be able to see you when they shift.�

�� Draco gave
a small shudder and silent thanks that he had never come across a pack of
werewolves while he was traveling like this. Then he reminded himself that that
was ridiculous. It wasn�t as though they�d be able to hurt him even if they
could all see him.

�� So,
Potter,� he said. �How did you get bitten? Why are you living here with this
ragtag band? It sounds as though it�s a secret you don�t want many people to
know. What will you pay me not to reveal it?��
Draco was enjoying himself hugely. Power surged through his veins in the
way that, back in his body, the rats would be surging across his stomach.

�� Potter gave
him a sharp smile in answer. Draco told himself that Potter�s teeth hadn�t
really lengthened; that was vampires. �How are you traveling, Malfoy?� he
asked. �It sounds as though a few Aurors would pay a lot of money to know that
you�re evading house arrest and maybe spying on the inner workings of the
Ministry.�

�� Draco
panicked. If Potter told the Aurors, then it was certain word would get back to
his father, and then his one escape would be taken away from him, and he really
would die under Lucius�s torments the
way he had started to think he would.

�� Potter
shook his head, eyes locked on Draco�s face. �You don�t need to worry,� he
said. �I won�t betray your secret, as long as you tell me what it is, if you
don�t betray mine. And you�ll receive my story in return.�

�� Not wise,� Hyacinth said, in a tone on
the edge of a snarl.

�� It was
stunning to see how quickly Potter�s face changed to a mask of tenderness at
the sound of her voice. He turned and dropped to his knees beside Hyacinth, running
his hands down her neck. �What is it?� he murmured. �Do you sense that it
wouldn�t be wise for us to trust him? What do you smell?�

�� Hyacinth
raised her head, eyes slitted and glazed. They locked on him, and Draco jumped.
For just a moment, he was sure, she saw him, and he was equally sure that what
looked out of her eyes at him was not human.

�� No sense,�
Hyacinth whispered. �But a smell of blood, and death, and pain.� She turned
away, whimpering, and tucked her head into her flank with a fluidity that
half-convinced Draco she had already started to change. Potter spent a moment
caressing her hair, his face bright with sorrow and determination both.

�� One day,�
he whispered to her, �a wolf of that strength will be a blessing. You�ll see.�
Then he rose to his feet and turned to Draco.

�� A short
trade,� he said. �The full moon is tonight, and I need to spend time with my
people. But I want your promise that you won�t betray us. I give you my word
that I�ll promise if you will.�

��

Draco felt himself relax, at least
as much as he could when he didn�t have any solid muscles to uncoil. He nodded.
�I never knew I had this ability,� he said. �I got bored one day, and wished so
fervently to be away from the Manor that it just�happened. I can�t touch anything
while I�m out here, only see and listen, so I can promise that I won�t hurt
your pack.�

Potter considered him with
glittering eyes for a long moment. Then he jerked his head down in a sharp nod
and said, �And Fenrir Greyback bit me. The wizarding world would have gone mad
if they knew. I didn�t feel like either being their martyr or a political test
case. I wanted to balance with the wolf instead, studied how to do that, and
decided that living in a wild environment would be best for now. Someday, when the
rest of the pack and I have sufficient control, we�ll go back into the
wizarding world. But we can�t for right now.�

He jerked his head again. �I
promise not to reveal your secret. Now, go. Come back tonight if you want to
see what we can achieve.�

So authoritative was his voice that
Draco found himself jumping back into the astral world before he could
reconsider. He hovered there, blinking, and licking his lips despite the fact
that he couldn�t feel the touch of his tongue.

Someone
can see me. He won�t betray me. It might be entertaining to watch a werewolf
pack change. At least, it�s something I haven�t seen before.

And new things were of much value
in the life he was living now.

*

Since he would probably lose track
of time if he went back into the Manor�and Lucius had spoken about using iron
as well as rats today�Draco chose a place �not far from the forest� to pass the
time until night. That meant he spent the remaining hours of daylight staring
at an unutterably boring town of Muggles, all of whom seemed to be engaged in
frowning at boxes and taking paper out of boxes and listening to boxes and
talking into boxes. Some of them shivered when he passed through the offices,
and once a small box exploded. Delighted, Draco tried to make that happen
again, but couldn�t. Maybe it was only a coincidence and not the Muggle devices
responding to the magic of his astral form after all.

Obediently, he reappeared in the
clearing that held the pack when the full moon was on the verge of rising. He
shivered as he stared around, even though he couldn�t feel the cold�and it
wouldn�t really be cold anyway, since it was June. The restlessness he had
picked up from the werewolves earlier was now snapping, surging, soaring. Draco
rubbed briskly at his intangible arms and had to resist the temptation to rush
out of the clearing into the forest.

You�ve
come from a place that�s even more dangerous, he reminded himself. And once Potter gives a promise, he keeps
it. He�s a Gryffindor, they can�t help themselves. You don�t need to think
he�ll betray you.

The feeling went on boiling around
him, but for long moments, he couldn�t see any of Potter�s pack. He kept
turning in different directions, though, as though someone was staring at him.

And then, one by one, they began to
emerge from their houses.

�� Hyacinth
came first, already walking on all fours. She tilted her head back and
shuddered as Draco watched. The next moment, she was twisting on the ground,
her bones reshaping themselves, her skin growing a thick rusty pelt that
couldn�t hide the sheer muscle of her. Draco listened to her howls of pain and
wondered how in the world Potter could fool himself. No balance with the wolf
was ever going to come out of that.

�� Celia and
Josh both became tawny wolves, Josh with streaks of black on his muzzle and
legs. Celia sneezed and jumped on Josh, wrestling with him, only cocking one
eye and one ear at Draco before she did. Draco smiled cautiously. It seemed
that Potter�s program had worked with those two, at least.

�� Leila was a
black bitch with neat silver tips to her tail and ears, who sat in the doorway
of her house and waved her tail lazily, watching the younger wolves with a
knowing air that Draco found annoying. She spent some time staring at him, then
snorted and looked away. Draco resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at
her.

�� Potter
emerged last.

�� Draco
stared despite himself. He had never thought a werewolf could be beautiful; he
had always feared them as horrible monsters, and that was the last place you
looked for something aesthetically pleasing. But Potter was a wolf with a body
as dark as his hair, his black fur trailing off into warm brown on his legs, to
almost a honey color on his paws. A single white line ran down the middle of his
spine, and a ragged white mark on his forehead showed where the lightning bolt
scar would be when he was human. He looked around at the pack, nodded to Draco,
and then loped towards the other wolves.

�� Only when
he was near Celia did Draco realize that Potter was also big. He didn�t look like it, because his muscles moved as smoothly
as oil and he projected an air of quiet confidence, with power muted beneath
it, as though he didn�t need to command. But his shoulder would at least reach
Draco�s, at six feet high, and that air of relaxation made him seem larger
still.

�� Celia and
Josh stopped wrestling when they saw him and stepped forwards to rub their
noses against his jaw, whining. Potter turned his head, and Leila joined them
at a trot, tongue lolling as she nipped at Potter�s tail. Potter tilted his
head, and Leila lay down as if scolded.

�� Hyacinth
joined them last. Draco cowered reflexively when he saw her. Her color had
deepened to the scarlet of freshly spilled blood, her eyes were only a few
shades lighter, and Potter overtopped her by an inch or less. If Potter was not
here, Draco could see, she would have been the leader of the pack, no question.

�� If she could have gathered them.

�� Because
Hyacinth was a lone wolf, someone who would have become a monster like Fenrir
Greyback. Draco could see that, too. Even with the Wolfsbane he was sure she
had taken, or she would have been running mad through the forest, she was
alternately panting and snapping, her wildness straining at its bonds.

�� Potter
turned and glanced at her. For long moments, their eyes held. A throbbing growl
that reminded Draco of Muggle engines worked its way up Hyacinth�s throat. She
started to crouch, and the rest of the pack backed away in anticipation.

�� Potter didn�t
crouch. He returned her stare boldly, instead, his body alert and his eyes
curious. He didn�t look as though backing down or glancing away was an option.

�� Hyacinth�s
growl stilled at last. She lowered her head and bowed over her extended
forelegs instead, the way Draco had seen Crups do when they wanted to play.
Potter leaned over and nipped her softly on the ear.

�� Then he
tilted back his head and howled.

�� A chorus of
howls answered him at once, an undulating wail of voices that rose up as if
they would chase and bring down the stars. Draco could almost feel his pulse
jumping and his throat drying out. He would have Apparated spontaneously at the
sound of that if he was here in the flesh.

�� As it was,
he had nothing to fear, and the sounds were rather thrilling than otherwise.

�� Potter
sprang ahead into the forest. Hyacinth was a stride behind him. Celia and Josh
went flying in their wake like leaves, and Leila managed a respectable sprint
at the back.

�� And Draco,
because his astral projection was willing himself to be in certain places
rather than walking, could keep up.

�� He flashed
from tree to tree, and always, somehow, Potter had got ahead. He was panting as
he ran, his eyes gold with exhilaration, his feet flying so fast that Draco
could see whirlwinds of dirt spinning up behind them. Those werewolf muscles
worked for him, whether he was circling trees at a pace that made Draco dizzy
or crouching to leap over a deadfall. Draco appeared next to an ancient oak and
caught a perfect image of Potter in mid-jump, his forelegs thrown forwards, his
hind legs extended back, his head up and his muzzle open to howl again in the
sheer exaltation of the thing.

�� Trust Potter to find some way of flying even
in this form, Draco thought.

�� The pack
spread out as they traveled through the forest, communicating by tiny yelps and
growls. Hyacinth ran ahead of Potter, and then she gave a belling call like a
hound that Draco felt sure had some specific meaning. These were werewolves and
not ordinary wolves, after all, and they weren�t limited to calls prescribed by
instinct.

�� Potter
howled in response, and then came the three voices that Draco hadn�t learned to
distinguish yet. He had no interest in trying, either. He kept up with Potter
instead, watching in rapt silence as the great black head swept down for a
scent and then the powerful body tensed and skimmed through the trees.

�� Suddenly,
something sprang out ahead with a noise of cracking branches that was like
thunder to Draco. He started.

�� A deer.

�� Potter and
his pack were coursing a hind who dodged madly to avoid them, who jumped small
rivers and flitted like a shadow over the underbrush, who showed them a clean
pair of heels so many times that Draco was sure she would get away. The
werewolves had a lot of strength, but they weren�t tireless, and they�d already
run for almost an hour by the time they found their prey; the moon was fully
up.

�� But it
didn�t seem to matter. On and on they piled, howls linking them, their panting
breaths slicing through the silences in between howls, rejoicing in their
strength. Draco lost himself in the sheer smoothness of their movement, or
rather of Potter�s movement, because Potter was the one he accompanied and
couldn�t tear himself away from. Now and then, he swore he could feel a
prickling of tears at his eyes.

�� The hind
turned at last in a small bay of rocks, foaming and snorting in her terror. Her
legs shook until she almost lay down, but she forced herself backwards, and the
rocks sheltered her flanks and sides from attack. The werewolves could only
come at her from the front, and that was too narrow for them to force their
shoulders through.

�� Draco
glanced at Potter as he came to a whooshing, whuffling stop, and the rest of
the pack piled up behind him. Potter studied the hind with intelligent eyes,
but didn�t seem overly concerned. Draco raised one brow. Really? And how are you going to get out of this one?

�� Then the
hill above the hind which held the rock bay trembled, and Hyacinth came
springing from above to fall on her back.

�� The hind,
incredibly, managed to leap one final time, surging over Potter�s head and
making a bid for freedom. Hyacinth�s attack didn�t crush her spine the way it
was probably meant to. Instead, Hyacinth landed behind her and snapped twice at
her heels instead. The hind screamed and stumbled. Hamstrings severed, Draco thought, so caught up in what he was
watching that he felt almost nothing. I
forgot, somehow, that wolves are pack hunters.

�� Potter
jumped before the hind had come fully down from her magnificent leap, and met
her four feet above the ground, his body dwarfing hers. His jaw clenched on her
throat, and he tore his head sideways. Blood drenched his black fur, and the
ground, and the faces of Celia and Leila, coming eagerly up behind him.

�� But the
image that remained in Draco�s mind then, and forever after, was that of two
dark shapes, one slender, one bulky, the bulky one clasping the neck of the
slender one as they hung motionless against the moon.

*

�� PantiesAreOverrated:
Here is the next chapter. I hope you are still alive to receive it! ;)

�� Whisperwhite:
Thank you! The reason that no one has tried to find Draco is explained in this
chapter. Hope it satisfies.

�� SamuraiSaaya:
Afraid I can�t say what happens to Draco ultimately, or that would spoil the
story.

�� Jill: Thank
you!

�� Thrnbrooke:
Here it is!

�� Emma:
Thanks! Hopefully, Draco will tell Harry something about his situation next.

�� FallenAngel1129:
That does get explained in this chapter.

�� Mangacat:
Thank you! This ought to be six or seven parts, not sure which yet.

�� SP777:
Thanks! Coming up with a good plot made me go for it.
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Rejoicing In Their Strength