Keep This Wolf | By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20230 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
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Chapter Twenty-Three—Bind the Beast “What are you going to do?” Draco thought his question was eminently sensible, and he didn’t understand the almost indulgent look that Potter shot at him from under lowered eyelids. But he turned back to Umbridge a second later, so Draco didn’t have the chance to accuse him of acting strange. “I’m going to make sure that she has to tell the truth,” said Potter. Umbridge was lying on a bed in his house. Draco had been uncomfortable when Potter had said that he would bring her here, and he still thought she looked a little unnatural lying there. But if Potter wanted someone that tainted between his sheets, head resting on his pillow, Draco supposed that was his prerogative. “There are things a pack leader can do to a wolf he’s turned, that we can’t do to other people.” He gave Draco that indulgent look again. Pack. Draco felt a prickling heat working its way down his neck and onto his chest. He shook his head and reoriented himself into the questions he really wanted to ask. “And you think that she’ll obey you without a struggle? You think the rest of the pack will accept her?” The rest of the pack was out gathering up the motionless, entranced Unspeakables, and didn’t know about Umbridge yet.“I don’t intend to keep her here, so they don’t have to accept her.” Potter leaned over and looked at Umbridge in the way that Draco thought a werewolf would only ordinarily look at someone whose throat they wanted to tear out. Unlike me. They have to accept me, don’t they? Because I’m pack, whether or not they want me to be, because their crazy leader has declared me to be so. Draco shut his eyes. He couldn’t believe that he was thinking like this, and he couldn’t believe that he wasn’t more upset. Potter had somehow claimed him without a bite. Had it been because he was the one who had given Draco the shake that woke him up from his passive trance induced by the Unspeakables? Because he had agreed to go with Draco into the Ministry, a task so dangerous that no other member of the pack would do it? Because he had given Draco second chances instead of just sending him away immediately when he had gone scurrying back to Heldeson and Hinsley? Then Draco shook his head. I shouldn’t be worrying about it. And none of those theories sound likely, anyway. What’s more important is that it spared my life when Umbridge turned Potter into a wolf, and I doubt he’ll be taking that back. As he watched, Potter bent over Umbridge, even closer, and lifted one hand, his nails flexed as if he was going to tear open some of the wounds he had already inflicted. Draco had to admit, with an indifference to suffering that surprised him a little, that he wouldn’t mind seeing Umbridge bleed from them once again. But Potter didn’t do that. Instead, he dipped his head some more and breathed out, a thick, cold breath that Draco could feel even from here. “Dolores Umbridge,” he said. His voice held none of the hatred that Draco would have expected. Or maybe all the hatred was held at bay by the strict command he had learned that let him take control of a werewolf pack. “Beast. Made so by my own wild and uncontrolled bite.” Draco didn’t think there was regret behind his words, or if it was, it was well-hidden. “Come forth.” Umbridge’s body convulsed as though something was trying to climb out of the middle of her belly. Draco jumped back before he realized that Potter wasn’t making her transform into a werewolf. Then Umbridge opened her eyes, and moaned. Potter nodded, not taking his eyes from her face. For a moment, Draco thought he was going to kill her, to rip out her throat, after all. But he didn’t, and the wounds that covered her body had already stopped bleeding. Draco supposed that was why Potter hadn’t been concerned about them beyond the application of one healing spell. Her werewolf metabolism was already taking over, rejecting the injuries and asserting itself in other things like an allergy to silver. “I’m a beast,” Umbridge whispered. In that one sentence was enough self-hatred to make years of revenge. Draco sighed in spite of himself, and Umbridge’s eyes shot over and fastened on him. “You were the one who betrayed us,” she whispered, in what sounded like growing horror. “You were the one who—I came to the Forest to rescue you, because you weren’t in the Ministry and you—” Potter snarled aloud, and Umbridge refocused on him. He was leaning over her and holding up one hand. Draco thought it looked almost as much like a paw as it had when Potter had actually transformed under the influence of Umbridge’s artifact. “You can’t say that,” Potter said. “Because that’s not true, is it? And your lies make me itch as though I had fleas.” Draco blinked. He didn’t think he’d like to have the power of a pack leader after all, if it caused physical pain to the pack leader instead of the person who was lying. Umbridge opened her mouth, sweating. Then she closed it again. She didn’t say a word. “Tell us the real reason that you came to the Forest,” Potter said, and the words were a command. Draco felt it shudder all through him, that longing to tell the truth, the honesty driven through his spine like a silver spike into the soil of the Forest. Umbridge either felt it less strongly or didn’t consider herself a member of the pack, because she fought and twisted on the bed in savage silence. Potter just watched her, and then clenched his hand down a little harder. “I c-came because I th-thought it was strange that Malfoy would walk back into the Ministry like that!” Umbridge squealed finally. Draco thought she sounded more like a pig than a wolf. “I kn-knew that he hated me, and I wanted to know more about the werewolf he had! The werewolf that was you,” she added, with one more hate-filled glance at Potter that was probably because he had tricked her. Potter smiled at her, ducking his head. His hair swished wildly around his face, and Draco thought it gleamed grey for a moment, like the pelt of the wolf he had been. Strange that Potter’s fur wasn’t black, he thought idly, and then shook his own head hard. Was he seriously standing here and thinking about Potter’s fur? There are worse things you could be thinking about. Like all the artifacts that the Unspeakables had you concentrate on for so long. “And then my vampire didn’t come back,” Umbridge whispered, the words pouring out of her now like her blood had. “I knew you had him. I convinced the Unspeakables to give me an artifact that was known to be powerful over werewolves. And I came with you. When I saw how comfortable you were around him,” and her loathing-filled gaze switched back to Draco, “I knew you were a traitor after all.” Draco opened his mouth. He actually wasn’t sure how he meant to defend himself; he only knew that the emotion in Umbridge’s eyes required some sort of answer. “You will cease that.” Draco’s head rocked on his neck with the force of those words. Umbridge turned back to Potter, and her lips had parted to reveal her teeth, in a pathetic, cringing sneer that she seemed unaware of. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Draco wasn’t really sure what Potter wanted her to stop doing, but Umbridge seemed to understand him perfectly. And then Potter leaned over her until his nose was almost brushing hers—a sight that made Draco feel ill—and hissed out a few sharp words. “I’m going to make you crawl before me if you don’t stop staring at a member of my pack like that,” Potter whispered. “I’m the one who turned you. Do you know what I could make you do, if I wanted?” The impulse to protest at that also flashed through Draco. He knew Potter would never use his power like that, and it seemed deceptive and wrong of him to— To make Umbridge believe he would? Draco sat slowly back. It would also be silly of him to object. Umbridge was exactly the sort of person, even as a werewolf, when her heightened sense of smell ought to have told her the truth, to believe that Potter would. “You wouldn’t,” said Umbridge, but there was nothing of the force of conviction that Draco or Potter’s friends would have been able to put behind the words. She lay there with her hands drawn up across her bosom like wounded paws, and stared at Potter in the same dreadful fascination Draco had seen her use to look at him during Hogwarts. “I would,” said Potter. “Not with most members of my pack. They came to me seeking sanctuary. I didn’t turn them. But with you? Yes, I would do that.” He reached out one hand, so slowly that Draco didn’t have the time to anticipate what he would do before he did it. He gave Umbridge a solid slap across both cheeks, and she recoiled with a little howl. “Because you hate us,” Potter went on, in a tone that sounded almost expert, as if he were a Healer identifying an illness. “Because you hate us even more now that you’re one of us. I would rather live through another transformation without Wolfsbane than have you in my pack, thinking that you could do there what you tried to do to werewolves in the past.” “Then send me away!” There was foam at the corners of Umbridge’s mouth now, and Draco smiled a little, thinking how embarrassed she would be if she could see herself from the outside. “You don’t have to keep me here! Send me away!” “Would that I could,” Potter said calmly. “But you would probably go right back to the Ministry and back to persecuting werewolves. You think this is the worst thing that can possibly happen to someone, so you’d try to hide your infection. And then I would be responsible for the people that you bit because you wouldn’t try and get Wolfsbane.” He sat back on his heels and looked at Umbridge thoughtfully for a moment. “I would never have chosen to turn you if I was in my right mind. But—” Then he went still, and Draco saw the moment when a new plan came into his mind. “What?” Draco whispered from the side, a little ashamed that he couldn’t control his curiosity, but also not seeing why he should have to when Umbridge’s attention was fastened so securely on Potter. “There’s something I have to know,” Potter said, and this time, he clicked his teeth together and made a pass with his hand over Umbridge’s face that made Draco jump. He could feel the magic settling around the room, the power that squeezed and squeezed, and he knew then that no one would be able to utter a lie in this room even if they wanted to. “The truth,” Potter said, almost lovingly, and stroked Umbridge’s hair. “Why did you decide that you had to get revenge on me now, when you’d gone years without doing it? Why did you decide that sending Draco would accomplish it?” Draco started at the sound of his name, and felt that go deeper into his soul than the magic had done. But Potter never looked at him, and Draco didn’t think Umbridge’s eyes were capable of turning elsewhere, so at least she didn’t seem to have noticed that the intimacy implied by the use of his first name was new to Draco. He slowly settled back, and watched Umbridge’s mouth open wider and wider, the more Potter touched her hair. “I heard that you were a filthy beast,” Umbridge whispered, and if she saw the irony in calling him that when she was one herself now, she didn’t let it stop her. “And I wondered how I could get to you. But you were almost in sight of Hogwarts, and there were always people willing to defend you there.” Draco caught the wry little twist of Potter’s mouth, and snorted himself. Umbridge made it sound like that was some moral failing on the part of the professors of Hogwarts, rather than considering what she might have had to do it with it. How is she ever going to survive her first transformation? She’ll probably make up a story about whose paws those are on the ground in front of her. “So I couldn’t do anything,” Umbridge continued bitterly. “And I couldn’t do anything for years. But then I heard about Thornsberry and your misguided plan to adopt him, and I knew I had to do something.” She turned her head, and this time her gaze went to Draco, but it was far easier to meet than it would have been if she was still human, Draco mused. “And I realized that sending Malfoy would accomplish something.” “What would it accomplish?” Potter’s voice was almost musical, almost lulling, like the sound of crashing waves on a shore. Draco shook his own head sharply to wake himself up. He certainly wasn’t about to succumb and become Potter’s eager, panting dog. “It would show that someone who should have suffered more than he did could bring down another person who should have suffered more than he did.” Umbridge bared her teeth at Draco. “He should have gone to Azkaban after the war. He did more than I did! And instead, he got taken in by the Department of Mysteries and coddled like a puppy.” A second later, she put one hand to her mouth as though she’d felt herself baring her teeth and was horrified, but Draco couldn’t enjoy that. He was shaking his head a little as he thought about it. Umbridge envied him for the slavery to the Unspeakables that he had so barely escaped. Well, of course she does. She thinks working for the Ministry is the best thing that could ever happen to someone. She would give a lot now to be in an important position in the Department of Mysteries. That did remind Draco of something he wanted to ask, and perhaps should have asked before, and he caught Potter’s eye and murmured, “The Minister?” Luckily, Potter understood what he meant without Draco having to make it more explicit. He turned back to Umbridge with a baring of teeth that made Draco catch his breath, and Umbridge bring up her hands over her eyes. “How could you blackmail the Minister and Invisible Heldeson into supporting you, if you don’t hold an important position anymore? Why would they listen to someone who had been in Azkaban?” She was only in Azkaban for six months, Draco thought, because that wasn’t the way he would have asked the question. But it was true that he had been startled to see Umbridge having any power, and he eagerly awaited the answer. Umbridge whined and whimpered and thrashed a little, but it was no good, and she finally spat out the heavy words. “The Minister—before he was Minister, he did something he shouldn’t have done. I found out about it, and he had to listen to me.” And she still won’t mention what it is, Draco thought, rolling his eyes. It’s not like that secret is going to do her any good now. Potter either didn’t care about that secret, or wanted to push Umbridge on to say something else, something more damning. “And Invisible Heldeson?” Umbridge flinched and rolled. Potter was right with her, snarling into her face, compelling her to answer with hot breath and visible canines. He wouldn’t need to use those things to persuade me to speak, Draco thought, suddenly, shockingly, and flushed. Potter turned his head a little, as though a stray breeze had brought him Draco’s scent, but Umbridge answered then, and he went back to listening to her. “She wanted an excuse to have a werewolf she could study,” Umbridge whispered. “A werewolf no one would miss.” Potter half-showed his teeth, just a little bend and wrinkle of his lip. Having seen what he could do when he wanted to, Draco was more impressed at the way he held back. “And she thought that no one would miss me when I disappeared?” “No, the plan was always to kill you finally,” Umbridge said, and gave another hate-filled glance at Potter. “But she thought that in the chaos of you vanishing or dying or getting imprisoned, she could grab one of your wolves.” Potter sat back on his heels, and Draco saw the moment when he decided not to spare Invisible Heldeson, either. “You still want me dead,” Potter said. Umbridge only stared. Draco reckoned that Potter could tell that much from her scent, which made it strange for him to speak aloud to himself, but Potter went on, with a meditative expression, as if he was explaining things to his pack. He is explaining things to his pack. You’re pack. Draco shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, still watching intently. “You’ll always want me dead. You’re not affected even by the magic that should make you feel welcome when I’m the one who turned you, because you hate werewolves so much and you hate me so much. I can’t let you go because of the reasons I already mentioned. I have to dispose of you somehow.” Potter abruptly looked across and smiled at Draco. “There are members of my pack who would object to getting rid of her,” he said. “She’s a wolf now, and they would never understand why I can’t trust her. But you’ll help me.” Draco wanted to protest at the almost lordly way Potter had of saying that, but it was true, and after a second he nodded. “Then you can come with me,” Potter said, and restrained Umbridge with ropes that he conjured with a flick of his wand, and began marching her through the woods, dragging her along with the rope around her waist. Draco followed slowly, keeping well behind Umbridge so that her snapping teeth would stand no chance of infecting him. He still didn’t know what Potter intended to do. Then he made out the cage in which Paracelsus crouched, and he understood.*Mocca: Well, Harry’s got a way in mind.
delia cerrano: Thank you!
BAFan: She thought it would transform Harry and get rid of Draco at the same time, as well as causing chaos so that the Unspeakables could slip in and get a werewolf to study.
SP777: Clinched Draco being part of his pack, you mean? Yes, he is now.
CareLessLover: Thanks! Yes, there are probably two or three more chapters at this point.
stevie: Here you are!
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