How They Fell

Chapter Thirty Three


Somehow watching Malfoy use the techniques that they had developed together to fight off Nott and the potential death eaters had heartened Harry.

It was sort of like having proof that the impossible did happen, they had been friends for a couple of weeks, and in a strange way their blocking technique felt like the fruit of that friendship. That Draco had made use of it at a time of need forced Harry not to turn his back on their friendship, however distant it felt.

Instead of just condemning Draco as an evil git as he had done before Harry began to question his own judgement. He had been angry and had fallen back on the previous emotions of resentment and hatred. Really he was no better than Malfoy! The thought shocked him.

He had actually almost gone back to his old belief that Draco was a death eater or at least wanted to be. Watching him actively fight against them had shocked him out of his gradual backwards slide into his old assumptions.

The only problem with this new, fairer attitude towards Malfoy was that without his anger towards him Harry was forced to realise that he missed him.

The thought was almost horrifying to Harry. He was missing Draco Malfoy, talking to him, spending time with him! He almost felt like the world had gone mad, and him with it.

Harry didn’t know why he should miss Draco, after all he had Ron and Hermione, he could never ask for better friends than them. But Draco had fitted a different part of him. With Draco he found himself being a slightly different Harry to whom he was allowed to be the rest of the time. With Draco it was just different, he wasn’t sure why, but it just was. It felt different to being with his other friends. It wasn’t necessarily nicer, or better, but he found that he missed it.

Perhaps his inability to explain his feelings, even to himself, was one of the reasons he didn’t tell Ron and Hermione about it. Or maybe it was just because he couldn’t bear to think of the conversation that would inevitably follow, especially now that he hadn’t told them for so long.

Ron just wouldn’t understand. He would feel like Harry was trying to replace him in some way. He would feel betrayed by Harry and they would inevitably end up shouting at each other. Hermione would be better, Harry knew, but there would then follow the long painful discussion about his feelings which Harry didn’t think he could bear, not with ‘How to be a Happy Homosexual’ peaking at him whenever he opened his trunk. Hermione was already quoting bits at him.

However that didn’t stop Harry from feeling guilty that he hadn’t told his friends. It was understandable not telling them at Christmas; there were just certain things that the boy-who-lived did not put in his mail. However, it was now months later and he should have told them immediately after the Christmas holidays. The problem was that it was now the middle of February, it had been months and he hadn’t told them. If he told them now they would inevitably ask why he hadn’t told them earlier, not a fun conversation.

God he was so stupid! There had been thousands of times when he had almost told them. He was so used to telling them everything, that it felt weird not to do so now. They knew about the prophecy for gods sake, that he was briefly friends with a Malfoy should not be a big deal. Yet it was.

No, it was best to just keep it to his self, and if Malfoy came round then he would deal with it. Not that it was likely that Malfoy ever would.

He was still being thoroughly ignored by Draco. It was like he didn’t even exist! Where it not for Harry seeing Draco’s blocking he would have given up all hope and accepted that it was over. As it was he still hoped that perhaps Draco would get over whatever the problem was and they could go back to their comfortable friendship. But Harry was determined that Malfoy would have to make the first move because he had had enough of being ignored.

It also didn’t help that other than work and Quidditch there was very little to divert himself with. This term his marauding trips with Ron and Hermione had become rather few and far between due to Hermione’s focus on her NEWTs, and the fact that they had pretty much explored everywhere.

Ron and Hermione didn’t seem to miss it much, as long as they went out twice a month they were happy, but for Harry it was different. For him his animagus forms had always been more to him than an amusement, or an achievement, they were his means of escape. No one turned to stare and point as he flew over their heads as a kestrel, although he wasn’t sure that he could say the same for his two other forms.

It became his way of working through his annoyance, stress and anger with his life which had so dominated some of his earlier years. Just a fast run over the Hogwarts grounds and occasionally through the forbidden forest about twice a week served to calm and relax him.

So it became very regular and normal for Harry to go out by himself late at night. It was necessary and he revelled in the joy in the experience. But wolves were pack animals; without Ron and Hermione he was always aware of a vague sense of loneliness. His human mind generally ignored it, but it existed none the less.

It became a habit to go out for a run every time he had a really tiring day, most often on the evenings when he had potions. In those lessons the double combination of Snape infuriating him and Draco ignoring him generally annoyed him so much that he counted down the hours until he could go out.

It was after just such a lesson, where Malfoy hadn’t even looked in his direction and Snape had taken thirty points from Gryffindor that Harry really felt the need to go running. He sat in the library all evening twitching and fidgety as he tried to concentrate on his work. Hermione rolled her eyes at him a number of times before she sent him a warning glare to sit still or else. Rebuked Harry did his best to sit still and get through as much of his work as possible, before finally giving up and announcing with a growl that he was going for a walk.

As soon as he got outside, surrounded by night and the crisp air with an essence of the promised spring on it, Harry felt himself relax.

He changed quickly in a dark corner and bounded free, padded paws moving swiftly and easily. Nose in the air he sensed the night around him, the familiar smells of the grounds as his fleeting body swept over them. He ran with a wild compulsion born of long hours of frustration soothed with the prospect of escape.

Once he had felt his body ease and clam, Harry felt inquisitiveness overtake him. He directed himself towards the Forbidden Forest. His body was craving company and pack again, and Harry thought that this compulsion might be relieved by simply being surrounded by the animals which the Forbidden Forrest abounded with.

As he entered the forest he slowed his pace. The twigs and leaves that decorated the forest floor made stealth and carefulness necessary.

Gradually he worked his way further round the edge of the forest and slightly deeper in, being cautious of anything and everything around him. His eyes constantly darted from shadow to shadow, his ears swivelled to catch any sounds of movement and his nose traced the scents on the night air.

It was after one particularly large sniff that he smelt it, a subtle wrongness in the air.

He moved backwards to find it, bending his head in that direction. Yes, it was definitely something, some sort of animal tracing, but not like anything he had ever smelled before. This surprised Harry, over the months he had grown familiar with the forest and its animals, both magic and non-magic. He knew he could match up any scent with its origin. A new one both put him on edge and spiked his curiosity.

Stealthfully he followed it, picking his way through the brush, feeling the smell grow stronger in his nostrils. It was definitely non-magic, a fact which relieved him, but it still contained in it a strange tone absolutely foreign to him.

Carefully, carefully he approached, the scent strengthening around him. He began to pick it up more frequently on leaves which the animal had brushed passed. Every one of his senses was fully aware and cautious, but no matter how his eyes strained or his ears listened he could find no other clue of where the animal might be.

Again he moved forward. The smell was fresh now. It must be close.

Harry was about to turn around and scan a wider area when something hurled into his back with a growl.

Harry tumbled over with the impact, rolling instinctively to defend his unprotected stomach and front before turning and lurching at his assailant. His claws tore at the black shape that moved before him, his bared teeth snapped together in the hope of catching flesh between them. He wanted to fight, to defend himself, to win and to feed on the beast below him.

Horrified at the violence of his animalistic urges Harry jumped back, far enough away from the animal to get a clear look at it for the first time and froze…

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Author’s note: I got asked a question about Chapter Thirty One regarding Draco’s inheritance, so I’m going to answer it. Yes Sirius was the head of the house of black and all his possessions where given to Harry, however, Harry is not a member of the house of Black and therefore cannot assume the title, instead this must fall to the closest male (currently not an active death eater, or removed from the family) i.e. Draco. So the inheritance he receives is in name only, but in England we have a tradition called entailment where there are some possessions (usually property) which go with the title and cannot be separated from it. On top of that I also imagined that Draco, through Narcissa would inherit some Black family items as they cannot go to Bellatrix (evil) or Tonks and her mum (removed from the family). Tadaaaa! You see it all makes sense! (But am terribly impressed that you gave it that much thought…and as ever thank you for reviewing…I’m going to shut up now.)