Redemption of a Snake

Historical remark: I just wanted to clear something, in case someone hadn’t understood. Remus and Romulus were twin brothers that had been raised by a she-wolf when they were babies. After that, they decided to found a city. Remus wanted it to be inside the lands and Romulus wanted it to be next to the river. Finally, they had a row and each went to built his own city (with help of friends of course). When Remus realised that his city would lack water and the proximity of a commercial network, he got angry and went to bother his brother. Romulus warned Remus that, should he cross the raising wall of his city, he would be killed. Remus didn’t take care of the warning and jumped above the stones. Romulus killed him.

On HP lexicon, they say Romulus and Remus founded Rome. No, only Romulus did. That story is also the reason for Draco’s remark at the beginning of the first chapter: ‘Oh… I s’pose it’s better for you. He won’t kill you this way.’ at Remus when the man tells him he is an only child.

Author\'s note : Many thanls to Anon whole email address I didn\'t have, for reviewing. I\'m sorry that I made you wait so long but i stupidly forgot to put the chapter on this site before going on holidays. I hope you will have a good read nonetheless.

o-o-o-o

The Redemption of a Snake

Chapter 8: The calling of a world.

Sunday, November the 22nd

Their life had settled down in a daily routine. After Draco’s declaration, they had been rather on edge. None of them had been willing to share the boy, but since none of them either wanted to let go of him, they had finally opted for a truce, each one silently hoping the other would give up first.

Said truce had rapidly turned into collaboration when Draco had began spending the evenings alternatively with one then the other. They missed him too much the days he wasn’t there. After Snape’s anger fits and Lupin’s depression, Draco had declared that it couldn’t go on. From that day on, they had met in Salazar’s lab, which had been arranged in order to be comfortable for three men.

Little was to say that the password wasn’t secret anymore… After a few visits, there had been so many Slytherins eagerly waiting in the common room to observe them that they had been forced to perform it in front of them. The trio didn’t mind: Snape had placed dark curses on the door… When doing so, he had made sure to be well seen by his students, so that they would know what they risked if they attempted to enter. After two weeks, none had dared try yet. Inwardly, he hoped that a Gryffindor would test his luck.

When Draco had presented Snape with his gift, the Potions Master had needed days to believe it was really happening to him. That was by far the greatest present he had ever been given. ‘There has to be a trick,’ he had thought. Indeed, there had been. Black’s status was one of a demon: his master could order him around but also had to make sure of his welfare. No physical harm, no mental torture and, the worst for Severus, no public humiliation. Since that had been the global filling of his plans for the Gryffindor, his fun had steadily decreased since then…

Just as everyday, he planned to grasp some students’ essays and a good potions book then join Draco and Lupin in Slytherin’s lab. Minerva had already hindered him in his progress for she had wanted to talk about what would happen to Draco’s points at the end of the autumn term. In fact, the boy had received many due to his good work of the last month, his taking the death-eaters from Azkaban and the common creation with Severus of a potion preventing any application of the Dark Mark. Severus had had to insist that such feats were fairly rewarded: Potter had received recompense for setting against the dark lord in his first year; it was only normal that Draco’s actions were shown the same respect.

“What are you still doing here?” grumbled Severus while storming in his classroom and rummaging in his desk for the seventh year Slytherin/Gryffindor work. He needn’t speculate on the grade he would mark Draco’s paper with. The boy would fill with wonder and pride any Potions teacher.

A dark-haired man was bent over a worktable, sponging the soap from it. At the voice, he swiftly roused from his chore, determined not to show that his back hurt like Hell, and glared at the Potions Master. “You ordered me to wash your classroom; are your brains failing you at length?” he spat with venom at the person he hated most in this school.

Snape screwed his eyes that sent daggers at the deliberately impudent servant. “It is your capacity at executing competently a simple task that is severely lacking, Black. A first year would do better. These tables have to be so clean you could eat on them. Did it get to your daft brain?”

“I could wash them for a century and it still wouldn’t be enough for your tastes! What’s your problem, Snape?” Black inquired with a sneer, “Can’t bear that I’m back?! That your little arse-licker of a Malfoy preferred pleasing Remus rather than granting your revenge to you?! You can do nothing to me. ”

Snape’s hands had stopped in mid-motion at the speech. His teeth were clenching so hard Sirius could hear them grinding from metres away. Who did the greasy git think he was to order him around in such a way for nearly three weeks?! Only because the little remorseful death-eater had decided to accomplish the good action of his life by taking him out the Shadow World didn’t mean that he would accept this ridiculous comedy of being a servant any longer. He wanted to see Harry and for more time than the little hour he was offered with his godson everyday!

Severus was red with anger. The worst of Black’s statement was the truth. While being the man’s master, he had no power over him despite giving pathetic orders. Oh, how much he regretted ever sending this piece of photo to Draco…

Sirius smirked. Without Malfoy, Snape was nothing. At first, when the Gryffindor had been rescued from the Shadow World, he had bent to the Slytherin boy in fear that the brat would decide to send him back and because Sirius had still been under the shock of his year spent in misery; but now, the story was all different. Malfoy had come for him to cheer Remus up, and, strangely, the child liked his professor too much to strike a blow at the man by taking away his last friend. He risked nothing.

With a wantonly contemptuous and scornful smile, Black got out of the classroom.

Snape remained alone near his desk, too angry to move.

A poisoned chalice: that was what Black had been. How could Draco have tricked him so? The boy knew his professor would have no power over the Gryffindor… Severus’ tense chest ached with betrayal. He remembered the newspaper of the last two weeks and his anger increased. There wasn’t one in which Black wasn’t mentioned: the war hero, James Potter’s best friend, Harry Potter’s godfather, the wizard that had spent twelve years in Azkaban for attempting to avenge his friend and one and a half year in the Shadow World for protecting his godson.

Severus’ eyes moistened with pearls of rage. What had he left now? He had betrayed the dark lord long ago, abandoning his title of death-eater. He had been discovered as a spy and could bring no more information to the Order. Lucius could foresee Voldemort’s plans much better than he did. He was a Potions professor, with a student almost as intelligent as he was. What was he? Where lay his point now?

Caught in his thoughts, he perceived more than he heard steps passing the doorstep. Raising his head from its position, he glared angrily at Draco and Lupin. What were they doing here? Getting a good laugh at his expense?!! They wouldn’t be the first of the day and certainly not the last. Black was probably on his way to the Gryffindor tower to recall his ‘victory’ to his clan.

“Get out,” he grumbled at them.

Lupin receded to the corridor but, to Snape’s utter torment, Draco remained sternly in front of him, the boy’s impassive yet tender eyes fixed on his.

“Get out!” he barked again at the boy. His body was burning with barely contained wrath. He wanted to be left alone! He wanted peace to keep turning over his suffering in his mind then deaden it in alcohol. Couldn’t the child understand this?!

But again, Draco didn’t move. Severus clenched his teeth. He pointed his forefinger at the boy. “Get out!” he yelled at him, body shaking with fury, eyes blinded with blood. “Will you get out!” he screamed with ferocity, “Get out! Expellus!”

Before he could stop, the spell was out of his hand, reaching Draco in a powerful blow and projecting the lithe body violently through the door, against the corridor’s wall. In slow motion, Severus saw Draco’s face twisting in pain and his lips letting go a hurtful whine then his body desperately falling to the floor where it landed, immobile.

Severus’ heart stopped. ‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I?’ he thought, appalled at his own action, ‘He dodged the spell.’ But Draco’s body was still lying on the corridor’s floor, unmoving. ‘He’s able to dodge it; he already did during training… Why didn’t he avoid it? Why…’

Horrified, he registered Lupin running to the boy and attempting to get him to stir. “Severus!” Remus cried out to him, “He’s bleeding!”

Snape looked at Lupin’s hand with fright. It was red with drops of blood. Breath shaking, he joined the kneeling werewolf as Draco opened his eyes. They were rolling in his head and the boy fought to clear his vision.

“My head hurts,” coughed the boy.

“Of course it hurts, imbecile…” whispered Snape with a trembling voice, “I’m taking you to the Infirmary.”

“Madame Pomfrey won’t be able to do anything about it…” Draco groaned in pain.

Snape and Lupin glanced at each other, surprised and worried… till the boy went on… “You’ll have to kiss it better.” Draco’s lips curled up in a grin at their nearly-popping-out-of-their-heads eyes.

“You’re a demon,” hissed Severus without conviction.

“And a master no less.” Draco lifted his head by an inch, prompting the man to his task if he wanted to get excused from hexing him. Sighing and praying a student wouldn’t pass at that exact moment, Snape bent on the boy and brushed his lips on the young one’s. His hair stood with electricity at the soft contact and he refrained a moan when Draco’s mouth caressed his. This was better than imagination. How could he have hurt this boy? Why had he been angry anyway?

Too soon, space separated them. As silence was installing in the corridor, Draco swirled to Lupin, lips pursed and eyes like a lovesick puppy. He chuckled when Remus sighed and mirrored Severus.

Draco smiled contentedly to his ears. “I already feel better,” he purred. And he fainted.

“The rascal…” muttered Snape, taking his wand out as Lupin cast an immobilising spell on the child. What an imbecile could Draco be sometimes. They levitated the boy to the Infirmary where they got scolded by the monster.

“What did you do to this poor child?” Poppy admonished while examining her patient.

Guilty, Severus lowered his sight to the floor. “He fell on the stairs,” Lupin cut in, to his surprise. Why was the werewolf lying? He’d been there when that had happened; there was no mistaking the reason for Draco’s wound. Madame Pomfrey glanced at them with suspicion but added no remark. “He has a small contusion,” she finally stated, surely judging they had already paid enough for the boy’s condition. “Not much but he needs rest.”

She stared at them when they stood at the same place. “That means you get out,” she cleared for them, her tone leaving no place for contradiction. Before they could react, they were being chucked out of the Infirmary and the door slapped behind them.

There was no noise to trouble the silence of the corridor. Both thrown in their thoughts, Remus and Severus made their way back to Snape’s apartments. Under the shock of having Draco taken from them, they receded in their habit of half a year ago, when the child had disappeared with his father. The dungeon was cold and Remus was thankful when the Potions Master lighted a fire and served them a drop of brandy.

Despite the recent tension between them, it was good to be back here together. Remus had been stricken by the news that Draco felt the same for Snape and him, but the boy had been truthful. And Severus apparently felt no less for the child than Remus did… And Lupin owed a lot to the man for the Wolfsbane. Besides, Severus could be of very good conversation when he let go of his prejudices…

Only minutes later did Remus realise that he was searching for reasons to keep their growing friendship from falling because of some silly love fight. Severus could be so stubborn; he would never officially accept being only half a mate, but the simple fact that he hadn’t cursed Remus yet for kissing Draco showed that he was willing to let go of his animosity.

“Why did you lie?” Remus vaguely heard Severus asking. Lie? He frowned. When had he lied? Oh… That… “When Draco’s not here, someone has to take care of you not getting assaulted by Poppy,” he replied, hiding a half-grin. Inwardly, he felt a pang of guilt. Snape wasn’t the only one responsible for Draco’s state. He had been, too, for allowing the situation to inflame without reacting.

When Sirius had been brought back, he had been so happy! Draco had offered him the most wonderful present he could ever have dreamt of. To have his last friend near him again, to know that Sirius was alive, safe and sound. But it had been selfishness and he had realised only too late.

Draco had given Sirius to Snape, and Remus had had difficulties understanding why. Severus’ hatred of the Gryffindor was so phenomenal that he would probably kill the animagus in no time. But no, Draco had made sure that it wouldn’t happen. Where lay his interest then? Remus had needed two weeks to fathom the truth. Lucius’ misdeeds had been planning against muggles, Dumbledore, and Harry. The high lord now was helping the Order with protecting them from his past associates. He could even converse next to nicely with Harry. Severus’ faults had been joining death-eaters, getting Remus sacked, and hating him for a story that the werewolf had had no say in. He had been a spy for Dumbledore, created and prepared Wolfsbane, and now could bear Remus in his chambers without menacing him. Both of the men had not only paid for their faults but also learnt from them.

On his part, Sirius’s errors had been, from Draco’s point of view, bullying Snape in their youth and attempting to feed him to Lupin, thus putting the both of them in danger, one of immediate death, the other of being shot down by the aurors. The man had paid in Azkaban then the Shadow World. But had he learnt?

“I know we’re not on the best of terms since… that day. But… I won’t force Draco to choose. I think he’d refuse anyway. So… Would you be friends?”

The look on Snape’s face told him clearly that the man hadn’t foreseen such a proposition of peace. Remus’ breath got jammed in his throat. It was a big gamble to assume Snape could accept someone he had despised for more than half his life as a friend. Maybe the Potions Master had only wished for a person to fill the void that Draco’s absence left on this evening and had been too tired to go and search for someone else when the werewolf had been within reach.

Severus peered at Lupin with an unreadable look. Was that a new dirty trick of these bloody Gryffindors? Could this Lupin be one of them, polyjuiced? But he had arrived with Draco, surely the boy would have recognised an impostor. Or maybe not… The man had been slightly surprised when Draco had asked for kisses, that was strange… ‘Or quite simply I’m going as mental as Mad-Eye… This hangdog look can only belong to the true Lupin.’

‘Did I imagine his antipathy two weeks ago? Had he never the will to oust me from the problem?… And now I begin underestimating the werewolf too… Life is getting hard…’ Too many years spent as a spy, doubtful of each friendly hand and non-hateful look had rendered him suspicious and strained, on the lookout for betrayals from every side. He needed to calm down if he wanted his nerves to last until the end of the year.

“What were Draco and you doing here?” Snape asked at length.

Remus smiled at the change of subject. “Does that mean a ‘yes’?” he inquired back, keeping his lips from curving and his voice from sounding high-pitched.

Severus glared at him. “That means I’ll think about it,” he replied darkly, irritated that the Gryffindor would only look happy about it.

Suddenly, they heard the characteristic clacking noise indicating the door was opening and their necks promptly rotated toward the source of the sound. In a dash, they were up and bolted at the newcomer, fussing over the child.

“What are you doing here?” admonished Snape, “You should be resting in the Infirmary.” At the same time, Remus and he were, as gently as they could manage, pulling the boy to the bedroom so that he could lie down.

Draco was ready to black out, probably from the dreamless sleep potion that Severus had seen Poppy giving the child not half an hour ago. His temperature was barely mild and he was shivering. Around his head, a slightly red bandage was covering his wound.

“Draco!” Remus cried out all of a sudden, “Where are your shoes?”

The boy looked at the werewolf with nearly unseeing eyes then stared at his bare feet. “I don’t know. I must have forgotten them… I was cold and she didn’t want to let me go… I ran when she wasn’t looking…”

They tucked him in bed and Severus cast a warming spell on the blankets. But Draco didn’t stop shivering. His body was dangerously resisting the potion and his mind was caught in a world of semi-dreams made of his thoughts and the blank space created by the potion. “Draco…” Snape softly whispered to his student, “You need to sleep for the potion to act.”

Draco glanced at him, unable to grasp the meaning of the words in his state. “I want Tom,” he whispered in a strangled voice, “Why isn’t Tom here? I’m so cold…” As if to stress his point, he trembled all the more. His face contorted with pain and a single tear dripped on the pillow, which Remus starred at in disbelief. “Severus,” he whispered in horror, “It’s ice.” Rolling on the fabric, there was indeed a pearl of ice.

Lupin took Draco’s temperature. “It’s dropping,” he stated, “It’s as though he can’t feel the warming spells.” Acting quickly, he went to the bedroom’s fireplace and incendioed the logs. Severus magically transported the bed closer to the chimney and to their relief, Draco instantly emitted a moan of contentment. “So warm,” he sighed in pleasure. He opened his eyes and they were comforted to note that the usual flame in them was back. “Would you stay with me tonight?”

‘Stay with… No… What?!!!’ Draco hadn’t been directing the request at one of them in particular, and Remus wondered with some anxiety which one of them the boy had had in mind. Surely the child hadn’t been thinking quite clearly about the recipient of his attention for his eyes had already closed as he was falling into sleep. Still, Lupin coughed with unease. “I’ll let you then,” he announced in a murmur so as not to awake Draco. This was Snape’s room after all. It was only right that he leave them in peace. Inwardly, he was surprised at his own acceptance of the situation and his resistance not to show his breaking heart.

But Severus glared at him. “Don’t play the martyr Lupin!” he hissed. “Is there a way to counter your bloody Map?” He turned his back on the werewolf and rummaged through a drawer.

“What?” Lupin whispered back in stupefaction. Why did the Potions Master want that? “Oh…” Of course. It wouldn’t do well for a student to be discovered in his Head of House’s bed. “Yes, there is…” Surprisingly, it was Pettigrew that had thought that a spell protecting them from the Map’s powers could be needed. Certainly the rat had been planning to betray them at that time and had so ensured a way of retreat. But it hadn’t served him in the end: while in his rat form, he had had no wand to cast it.

At first, Remus went to lower his voice even more so that the Slytherin wouldn’t hear the Marauders’ secret when Snape tossed him a pair of pyjamas. He frowned at the Potions teacher.

Severus rolled his eyes. “No remark Lupin,” he ordered, “Turn around and get dressed.”

At that point, Remus noticed a similar pair of cloth in his colleague’s hands. So, that was what the man had truly had in mind when he had asked for the spell… Effectively, they would be in dire need of it. Both chuckling at the situation and wrinkling his nose at the idea of it, he undressed and changed into the pyjamas, while hearing mirroring noises from behind his back.

The feeling was strange. He wasn’t used to such soft texture on his skin. That was the good part of it. The bad one was the smell of Snape on the material. But, hell, he’d slept next to worse odours than this one... At least it was human.

Some minutes later, they both slipped between the sheets, each on one of Draco’s sides, and were rewarded with a moan. When Remus spelled the room into being unplotable to the Map in a clear voice, Severus stared at him for a moment, astounded at the action. At last, he tucked in bed muttering that Lupin was a fool. Remus took it as an appreciation for his attention.

Then it was eerie silence in the room, only broken by soft purrs from a boy, happy at the warmth he was surrounded with…

o-

Proud of his actions and his putting the evil snake in his place, Sirius headed for the Gryffindor Tower where he knew Harry would be working. When he entered, he got surprised stares out of everyone: they hadn’t been used to seeing him at this hour.

“Sirius!” cried Harry with joy.

The man grinned at the feeling of having his godson next to him again. Who did Snape think he was, preventing him from seeing the child? He had no right! Sirius was back and intended to spend all his time with Harry, all the time he had been denied because their so-called spy hadn’t been able to give them more ample information about the attack at the Ministry.

But that time had ended. Snape was no longer needed for the Order. He was nothing but a death-eater. A death-eater that could be disposed of. That way, the Malfoy would lose his protection and Moony would stop spending so much time with the boy. Why hadn’t his friend come and seen him when he was free of Snape’s clutch? Remus had come and visited the Tower the first days then hadn’t reappeared. Harry had mentioned that he ought to be in some Slytherin’s lab with the Malfoy spoiled heir.

“Hey Harry! What are you doing?” Sirius inquired when he saw the mountain of books on the table his godson was working at.

“Oh that… It’s an essay for Potions,” the boy replied with a shrug. For all the efforts he had done to bear the Potions Master, he still hated his subject. Probably because he couldn’t begin to understand it. But he tried nonetheless: Snape had almost died to protect him; it was the least he could do. Especially now that Snape wasn’t half as bad during his lessons. He still took points out by handfuls, but he had stopped being so disagreeable. It was as if he had finally accepted that Harry wasn’t his father.

“Potions?” repeated Sirius incredulously. “You’re still working on it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know why I bother…” Two weeks ago, he had gone out to play quidditch with Sirius rather than working on his essay, and his grade hadn’t varied an inch. “But tell me,” he changed the subject, “How is it you’re already here? Snape had enough of you?” Harry inquired with an amused grin.

“No, I sent him to Hell. I couldn’t see anymore of his ugly face.”

In the common room, students laughed scornfully, trying to imagine the scene with Snape getting told to fuck off by their hero. Sirius Black was a true Gryffindor, one that thought against Slytherins with the same arms. He was strong, he was witty, and he was faithful to his friends. Who could dream of a better godfather? Potter really was lucky to have him.

“Hey Sirius!” called Dean, “Why don’t you tell us another story of when you were in school? One with Snape.”

Sirius smirked. “Good idea! I’m particularly recalling one. It was in our fourth year…”

As the ex-convict was getting on about how they had humiliated Snape, Ginny observed the eager students in silence. All seventh years had forgotten about their essays. They were drinking Sirius’ words avidly… well, almost all students. Harry looked very sceptical about it. She sighed and glanced at her best friend. Luna was reading next to her, clearly bothered by the noise of the laughter. It had become commonplace that the Ravenclaw girl would come in the Gryffindor tower to spend time with the young Weasley. Ginny elbowed her softly and indicated the dormitories with a sign of the head.

Since they were in a corner of the common room, to Sirius’ back, no one saw them going. No one except the only other person that hadn’t been captivated by the story. As soon had they entered Ginny’s dorm, Hermione joined them. The head girl dropped on a vacant bed and opened her charms book to the page she had abandoned her lecture at then left it laying on the mattress and came nearer her friends.

“You’re not listening to Sirius’ story?” she inquired, not certain about the tone she should take.

Ginny sighed and shook her head in disapprobation.

“You can hardly call it a story,” remarked Luna, “This is pure discrimination. It is no wonder that Snape hated Harry if his father and godfather had treated him so.”

Hermione frowned. Just like the two girls, she didn’t approve of such an attitude from Sirius. It was bad to make fun of someone. Especially of Snape, who had sacrificed so much for their side. She could understand the motivation though. Sirius had only got back from the Shadow World that he was offered to his worst nemesis. And Snape hadn’t been particularly kind to him, to let him see Harry an hour a day. But when she voiced her opinion…

“Because you think that Sirius was mistreated?” inquired Ginny. “I think the contrary. I agree that he hadn’t the best life, but Malfoy had said that Sirius would remain in this condition only till he decided it had been long enough,” she recalled. They called what Sirius went through servitude. They had no idea what it was to be a slave. It was having no say at all in your life. It was looking at your life through a mirror. You couldn’t choose what you did, what you said, or what you thought. You could only observe yourself in your everyday life and weep in silence for no one heard your tears. And she knew, for she had spent part of her first year in slavery.

“I don’t see your point…” Ginny was really the only one that could make Hermione feel at a loss. She had perfectly fathomed the reason of Sirius’ return: it had been to please Remus. And Malfoy had given the man to Snape in compensation for his miseries. So what did Ginny talk about?

As the Weasley girl didn’t go on, Luna took over. “Malfoy certainly had something in mind to determine when Sirius’ punishment would end. That means Sirius only had to discover what it was. But that’s not the point. You said he was mistreated, but without Malfoy, he’d be rotting in the Shadow World. Besides, he was granted one hour a day with Harry. It is more that I would have expected from Snape. Thus it is certain Malfoy that gave him this permission.”

Hermione was getting the idea. Why? Draco didn’t care about Harry. Why would he propose and agree to these visits then? Because he was waiting for something out of them. But what?

“Anyway, this won’t be a problem for long,” Ginny diagnosed.

Hermione’s dubious look was enough for the girl to explain. “Malfoy won’t be happy when he learns about Sirius’ rebellion. He’ll act upon it. And since he must have foreseen the situation, Sirius will lose.” She didn’t add that the man had well deserved to be put back in his place too.

“When did you become such experts on Malfoy?” asked Hermione, abashed at the plot they had untangled.

Luna grinned. “When Malfoy made a deal with Ginny, I started observing him. And there is one particular thing I noticed: he never does something without second thoughts. That is his first strength: he imagines every possibility before acting.”

Hermione was impressed. They had done a very good job of it. Then she remembered that Ginny still hadn’t revealed what exactly was Draco’s deal. Each time one of them had asked, she had refused to give away any indication. Still it was important enough that it had provoked their research. The red-haired girl smiled. “I know your look, Hermione. But I won’t tell anything. This is our secret, to Luna and me.”

She pulled a face. “And you wouldn’t tell me?”

“You work with Harry and Ron already. It is either them or us,” warned Luna in a very serious tone. At that moment, Hermione wondered exactly how much the two girls truly knew. Had her trio missed that much in two weeks?

From the common room, they heard raised voices telling Neville that he’d missed the most fantastic story. The boy had been once more taking extra lessons with professor Sprout. The woman had made many praises about him last year and he intended to be worthy of them. Then it was total silence. Surprised, the girls went down.

“… and Malfoy was bleeding from the head,” Neville was finishing when they arrived.

“And you came here immediately after?” inquired Harry, frowning.

“No, I had to give my essay to professor Sprout before.”

They didn’t have to wait for the students’ babbling to again fill the common room. What was that about now? Hermione shouted to cover their voices. If Malfoy was harmed, somewhere in the castle, they had to help him. Still, she didn’t believe Neville would give up a student, even Malfoy who had pestered him for years. When the calm was back, she asked for a complete version of the story. When coming back from the greenhouse, Neville had caught sight of Malfoy being levitated by Snape and Lupin toward the Infirmary. He was wounded at the back of the head.

“Who cares anyway?” inquired Sirius with indifference and a tinge of rancour. “It’s a Slytherin.”

When some Gryffindors agreed, Hermione glared at him. “You can keep your comments!” she spat, earning everyone’s attention. She could bear stories about Snape, but not caring when something bad could have occurred was another thing. Malfoy and Snape had done enough for their side that the Gryffindors at least could have a little respect for them.

“Why?” Ron asked, “He’s right. Who cares about Malfoy?”

Hermione fumed. ‘Who cares?’ she shouted in mind at them, ‘I care! I care because since the beginning of the year he has always been correct to me! I care because he’s Remus’ friend! And I care because I think he deserves it more than some of you!’

She stormed out of the common room to the Infirmary. She had enough of these immature imbeciles! Since Sirius had come back, it had been worse and worse. All Gryffindors wanted to look like him, the great hero! Did they only have eyes to see, ears to listen and a brain to think? She had endured two weeks of it but had considered she was being too harsh on them. Her discussion with Ginny and Luna had showed her that she wasn’t the only one. Sirius’ comment had been the last straw.

On her way, she perceived the truth and stopped abruptly. Malfoy had allowed Sirius to meet Harry so that the Gryffindor would narrate him the events of the past year. He simply wanted Sirius to acknowledge Snape’s work! Only that… Realisation was bursting in her eyes, every time Draco had given surreptitious glances to Sirius it had been to judge his progresses. And Ginny had known that! But had she been right? Had Malfoy anticipated everything?

Hermione was hesitating. She could go back to the Tower and explain to them her conclusions… Or she could go on her way… She envisioned the manner they would all greet her, traitor of Gryffindor to Slytherin, and finally continued to the Infirmary.

o-

Monday, November the 23rd

Remus awoke and was immediately startled by presences next to him and a weight on him. A warm breath was tickling his neck, and, when he moved his head, he could feel soft locks of blond hair caressing his cheek. Then he remembered.

He had been waiting with Draco in Salazar’s lab for Snape to arrive. After half an hour, the man still hadn’t been here. Getting worried, Draco had departed for the Potions classroom, Remus on his tail. Both of them had feared the same: war. And if war it hadn’t been, they certainly hadn’t found peace either.

“… arse-licker of a Malfoy preferred pleasing Remus rather than granting your revenge to you?! You can do nothing to me!”

That had been Sirius’ voice. Instantly, Remus had known that he could forget about his tranquil evening. Draco had promptly caught his robe and pulled him in a corner. Some seconds later, Sirius had passed by them without noticing them. Then the boy had gone for his second lover…

What had nurtured Sirius into saying that? Of course, he was angry at the whole situation, but that didn’t allow him to insult Draco. Especially since the boy was everything but what he had been called. Hadn’t Sirius detected the changes? Had the man only looked at anything past Harry these last two weeks?

The first evening, Remus had met his friend in the Tower. “Hello,” was the only word they had exchanged. After that, Sirius had been too caught up with talking to Harry to notice that the professor had gone. After two days, Remus had stopped bothering and rather spent his time with Draco.

But how could Sirius use him as a way to get out of his condition?! He had been given to Severus, but Draco wasn’t unfair; he would make sure the punishment wouldn’t last more than necessary. But Sirius hadn’t known that…

A body next to his stirred to life, and Remus suddenly realised that he was shoulder to shoulder with Severus and Draco largely spread out on them, covering part of them with his body. This was certainly the most unusual situation that he had ever been placed in, and there had been quite a few.

Snape grunted at the weight on him and extended a hand, exploring the bed with his fingers. They analysed Draco for a time then, deciding that the boy was at his place under the sheets, went further and met with Lupin. They paused abruptly. What was that under them? Why was it warm as a body? Why could they recognise the texture of one of their owner’s pyjamas? Frantic, they climbed up the chest and found the bare skin of a neck. The person wasn’t breathing. The fingers halted again, beat a retreat, and Severus rose on his elbows. The black eyes shared nothing of his secretive thoughts but, as the Potions Master was lying back down, Remus faintly heard a whimper that vaguely resembled. “I’ll have to kill Albus for whatever he put in my brandy…”

The movement had awoken the last sleeping person in the bed. Draco yawned noisily and stretched lazily on them, flattening them out a little more in the process. If he contorted his neck, Remus could get sight of a content smile on Draco’s lips. It made him look younger, sweeter, and happier, as he would after a night of sex. But there had been no flesh, only warmth.

The boy got up by crushing them, and, without having to look, the men were aware of his destination. There was one thing that Draco never lacked to do as soon as he awoke. The light ‘taps’ of the boy’s steps were directed to the tainted window that he opened wide.

Snape hated flagrant light. It reminded him of how foul he was. But, for all its appeal, he didn’t like darkness either. He was too afraid of getting caught in its web again. So he had long stayed alone in his world of grey, quartered by the two sides. Then Draco had appeared to keep him company, followed by Remus that simply didn’t want to give up. Severus would deny it to everyone who would ask, but he felt better with these two people than he had in twenty years surrounded by those that named themselves his allies.

That feeling was bonding them together. They were strangers among their own peers. Severus was a known ex-death-eater on the side of Light, Remus was a werewolf living with humans, and Draco was a demonist in the middle of wizards. They were accepted, but no more. Whatever happened now, they would remain the grey ones of the war, those that hadn’t found their place. Maybe they ought to add Lucius to their small company? As Remus heard Severus chuckling, he realised that the Potions Master’s thoughts were alongside his. Never would they hold any physical attraction for each other, but both were aware that they now were too far-gone to step back.

In the silence of the room, they made a pact. They would protect their little world of grey. They would shield Draco even if it were the last thing they did. And at the end of the war, if this end ever came to exist for any of them, they would see what remained. But if they were to die, they wouldn’t go easy to their murderers and before accepting to let go of life, they would make sure Draco was safe, sound and happy.

Draco inhaled the fresh air deeply and scoped the forest, roofed by a darkening, cloudy sky. And his eyes were unreadable and both men wondered where their Draco had gone. Every morning, the boy had this look on him, as he was called and fighting to resist the invitation. And every morning, a pang of fear swelled their hearts as they queried at how much time they had left before he disappeared again.

Remus had been pleasantly surprised when Severus had lent him a book on demonists. He had spent a sleepless night to finish it. A week after, he had already forgotten most of the passages and only recalled one thing: demonists were a strange folk. Not at all like wizards, maybe like they had been at the beginning of their race, when Merlin was still roaming the Earth.

They knew, and they hid it. Demonists were lonely and independent. They liked their space and privacy, and that, Remus and Severus could comprehend and respect. Where Draco went on his Sundays, where did he depart for at the rising of the sun, where did he come back from at the sunset? They had no idea. The boy hadn’t fathomed they had seen him going. Just as he would never be aware of that the Sunday when he had first disappeared, they had broken in the lab only to find it deserted. The Pensieve had been on its usual place on a shelve. They had taken a look. Only a glimpse. And faced with the terrors of the child, they had been so ashamed at their action that never would they admit it, willingly or not. On these evenings, they thus lay inattentive eyes on his tangled hair, bruised hands, scorched clothes and generally damaged appearance. Wherever it was, it remained Draco’s secret, and they would help him keep it.

Tearing himself away from his observation post, Draco slumped anew on the mattress. Wasn’t it unconventional? A child in bed with two grown men. A student with two of his professors. Indeed, a child, not yet of age. Would they resist the temptation of young flesh, so eager to be ravished? Some more months and then… then… what would occur then? Draco would be eighteen. Their relationship would take an all-new dimension. But they weren’t there yet. So many events could take place between now and then. So many people could enter or quit Draco’s life. Would they only be there still?

“Why are you so dismal this morning?” asked the child with a grin. He was lying on his belly, long legs swinging the mattress and his buttocks back and forth. Lithe feet were bouncing on the firm and rounded cheeks. The sight was tempting, surreal.

They sighed, chasing their unholy thoughts from their minds. “We have much to discuss,” reminded Severus.

Draco was waiting with the eyes of an innocent boy. And theirs moistened for it wasn’t fake and that meant that, behind all the horrors Draco had already faced, there was a little part left of a once pure mind. Then he seemed to remember something, and the blue orbs got worried. “Did I say something yesterday? If I did, I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t myself.”

Remus chuckled. The child was defending himself against invisible and non-existent enemies.

“Draco, where is Tom?” asked Snape out of the blue.

Draco’s face shadowed. “I am not certain now. I just hope he is well. If he disappears…”

“Why would he disappear?” insisted Remus when the boy interrupted his confidence.

Draco choked. “I can’t tell. Not yet… Sorry…” How could he admit such an unnatural thing? If it got out, people would try to hurt Tom when he was defenceless, and that he wouldn’t allow. He had to make sure the boy was safe.

“Fine…” Snape accepted at length. But Remus could tell that the man wouldn’t stop his investigations there. Why was Draco frightened of telling? Had the spirit found a way to manipulate or blackmail him? Or had someone else discovered how to blackmail Draco with Tom’s life? “Then, I’d like to know why you let me hurt you yesterday?” The unusual flinch in the voice was the only indication at how much he was ashamed at his action. How could he have lost control so easily? His only consolation was to see Draco now, sound and cured.

Draco shrugged. “Well… You needed to vent your anger, and I also wanted to excuse… for Black… Truly, I didn’t think that you really would attack me. You got me by surprise.”

Only too late did he realise that he had blurted out too much. Snape was already gaping at him with confused, hurt, and disgusted eyes. They had known? How had they known? They had been here? They had heard? But…

Sensing the storm brewing, Draco had an awkward smile, and his pupils exhibited all the wittiness of the Slytherins. “But I’m talking and the time is passing. I’m certain that you don’t want to miss breakfast.”

There was no need for words. Snape had already forgotten his growing outburst and smirked. Remus sighed. He didn’t want to know what the boy had in mind. This was their affair! If there was a confrontation between Slytherins and Gryffindors, he’d better not take part of it… Except that he wouldn’t have a choice…

o-

Back the previous day (Sunday, November the 22nd)

When Hermione had arrived at the Infirmary, the door had been broadly opened just in front of her, and she just avoided connecting with her nose thanks to the quick reflexes of Harry that had apparently run after her. Madame Pomfrey was frantic. Her patient had disappeared! Just under her nose!

“He isn’t in a state to wander the castle!” she shrieked, “Where could he go?!”

Hermione shook her head in disappointment. Malfoy was a nuisance like very few managed to become. Ah that… Snape had always said that too many actions of the Gryffindor trio were overlooked for the sake of the world, but in only some months, Malfoy alone would have got back at them for everything. “Probably in his lab,” she suggested. Whenever the Malfoy boy disappeared, he was testing in the secret room, creating only Merlin knew what. She hoped Dumbledore was keeping a close eye on him, or one of his inventions might backfire on them one day.

Madame Pomfrey grumbled. “What would he do in a lab at this hour? He should already be sleeping because of the potion… didn’t even take his shoes… with that cold…” While mumbling, she headed for the dungeons. Hermione and Harry followed, not daring to say anything else. Poppy’s temper was famous in the school, and when she cared about a student’s welfare, few were the professors that could keep her from acting like a mother hen.

They arrived in a completely dark corridor. Some turns before, the lightened lamps had stopped existing, and they were now advancing in darkness. Madame Pomfrey didn’t seem to mind, and the Gryffindors stayed near, in case there was some oubliette in the floor… Not soon enough, she was knocking at a door they wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for her knowing the place like her hand.

The door opened and let place to a vision of horror. Hermione and Harry shrank back out of fear. Snape in pyjamas. Rectification: an angry Snape in pyjamas. What was she thinking, to go to him at this hour? Especially after the Sirius incident. They retreated to a corner of the corridor, hoping the professor had been too occupied with the Mediwitch to notice them.

“Draco Malfoy disappeared,” she informed, “I need you to open the lab.”

“What for?” he snapped, “He’s where he should be: in his bed, soundly sleeping. I was too when you decided to bother my rest,” he added for good measure.

“Can I see him anyway?” she insisted.

“You’re saying I can’t take care of my children?” he accused harshly.

“Of course not!” she bit back on the same tone, aware she was engaging on slippery ground. The complete staff was aware of Snape’s protectiveness of his students. They were his and he never let others interfere in his house affairs. “I just want to be certain he is well.” She was the Mediwitch, not Severus. It was her work!

“He is and doesn’t need you fussing over him. Good night!” And the door slammed in her face.

Hermione was stunned. Harry was choking back a laugh. Snape: one. Pomfrey: zero. “…stubborn as a mule…” he thought he heard her muttering. They had to go back to the Infirmary empty-handed. Poppy locked in the Infirmary, and they went away without a word.

What an evening… “Harry…” whispered Hermione, “Finish your essay then go to sleep,” she counselled seriously. She blamed Sirius, but she had to make sure Harry wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

He screwed up his eyes. “’Mione, Sirius is here,” he reminded her, “I just came to see Malfoy wasn’t in danger but now, I wish to spend some quality time with my godfather that I haven’t seen in a while, if you remember.” What was taking her? He agreed that Sirius hadn’t had the best of attitudes, but he remained his last parental figure.

He was hesitating. His heart felt like it was torn apart. On one part, there was Sirius, a man he loved deeply, that would die for him; there was the Gryffindor house and his best friend. On the other, there was Snape, a man that he had hated for many long years, and a man that had run to death for him… There was Draco Malfoy, an arrogant, privy, and dangerous boy, one that was walking along the thin line between Dark and Light, that had set against everything he had ever believed in, and that had served his father to the Order. There was Moony, who had transformed Draco to the point of no return. And there was Hermione…

“I don’t want to abandon him…” he unwillingly whined. He ached. The image of a little dark-haired Slytherin boy getting humiliated by Gryffindors was haunting his mind. The memory of Snape, lying in an Infirmary bed, dampening the sheets with blood, as Madame Pomfrey confessed that he might never awake. The memory of Malfoy, as pale as a ghost, on the point of breaking, admitting that he was being manipulated into killing him.

“And you aren’t,” soothed Hermione, “But he doesn’t need you now, it’s too late. Tomorrow he will, though. And tomorrow you will be here for him.”

He sighed and nodded. And when he arrived back at the Gryffindor common room and Sirius smiled at him and he told them that Malfoy was fine and they groaned and he smiled and they talked happily for the rest of the evening while he finished his essay, he was still wondering if he had made the right choice.

o-

The day after again (Monday, November the 23rd)

Heart heavy in his chest, face paling out of stress, Harry reassured Sirius that he was fine as they headed for the Great Hall. He hadn’t been able to sleep as remorse was eating him, and he had to resist getting up to warn his godfather against the demonist. Because Harry was certain of it: Draco wouldn’t stand by his professor getting insulted and mocked. He was going to react, and it would be bad! But the situation would deteriorate if nothing were done about it… Sirius was going to hate him…

The man had been told almost nothing of the last changes in the Order. He was aware of Snape having been discovered as a spy, that the Malfoys had somehow moved back to the Light, and that Remus and Draco shared a special bond, but that was all. Given his reactions to these pieces of information, Harry hadn’t judged it a good idea to tell more. He regretted it now. Had he explained more of the last events, maybe would history have turned out differently.

He thanked Merlin when the Great Hall revealed to be empty of students. It looked like Fate had decided for a private confrontation. Or rather, Dumbledore had made sure the affair wouldn’t extend to the houses… Harry made to sigh in relief but his breath got stuck in his throat when he caught sight of Draco. The Slytherin was framed by Snape and Moony, looking slightly pleased. That wasn’t good…

The few present Gryffindors were whispering among themselves, surprised at the absence of so many peers. Sirius was growing suspicious. This looked much too like a trap for him to feel safe. He got closer to his godson in order to protect him if there was a sudden attack and observed the faces. Snape’s eyes had an evil gleam in them that he just couldn’t miss. Clutching tight the teacher’s arm was Moony, whispering anxiously to him.

“Severus,” Remus called in a hushed and hesitant voice, “Please, I know I’m in no place to ask that of you, but… if you could not be too harsh on him…”

Remus knew he was tempting the devil, and the devil indeed voiced his hatred at the request. Snape glared at him, and Lupin back stepped from the accusing look. “Of course! As soon as your dog is menaced, you show your true colours!”

Draco eyed Remus sadly and for a second, Lupin hated Snape for making the boy doubt. “No! It’s nothing like that!” he denied in a murmur, “I don’t want to see the war between the two of you again! Don’t you remember how it ended?”

Severus snorted. “I remember too well, on the contrary. That’s why we’re here.” Never would he forget the fear he had experienced faced with the wild and raging werewolf. Black would pay for that!

“Then let Draco handle it. Punish him if you must but don’t declare war again. I’ll make sure that he apologises for everything. Please…”

Snape was wavering. Merlin, that was impossible. Lupin couldn’t have been a Gryffindor! Someone had changed their memories from that time. He was angry at the possibility of letting Black escape, but inwardly, his mind was put at ease from the proposition. His Slytherin instinct had warned him it could get dangerous to defy the animagus but his pride yearned for crushing the Gryffindor.

Draco grinned at him, amused by the changes of colour of his professor’s face according to his thought. “You’ll have to work together at one time or another,” he assumed. When he had taken Black back, he hadn’t known the man, apart from some old tells of his mother. He hadn’t guessed the man could be so obtuse, obstinate, and deliberately malicious. He was a Gryffindor after all, and Gryffindors were supposed to be good. Slytherins had the monopoly of icy hearts. How Lupin could have been a friend and even come to love such a heartless bastard was beyond Draco.

Severus sighed. “Fine.” Before the coming Gryffindors could make a remark, he vanished from the Great Hall, feeling confident that Draco would make this subtle retreat pass as commiseration. They were Slytherins after all, and Slytherins supported each other against adversity. Well… He hoped…

Sirius snorted and let go of Harry. Either there had been no plot from the beginning, or Snape had fled from the battlefield. Anyway, he never noticed the lack of students in the Great Hall…

“Black!” called Draco, a little smirk playing on his lips as he walked to his interlocutor. “I had some doubts yesterday that you truly were a Gryffindor.” ‘And not a Slytherin in disguise,’ he added to himself. “But to show up today, your temerity can indeed only belong to a red one.”

“Temerity that some certainly do not share,” scorned Sirius, certain that no one would miss the connection with Snape’s sudden exit.

Draco’s eyes opened wide in surprise and some Gryffindors sniggered. What? Was that boy so full of himself that he couldn’t imagine a Gryffindor with so common a come back? Draco was still looking at him with wonder and some reproach, as though waiting for something.

“A problem Malfoy?” Sirius sneered. “Cat got your tongue?” His arrogant tone hid his slight fear as he was reminded that it was none other than this child that had taken him out from the Shadow World, that masked and cloaked people had accompanied him, and that Dumbledore somehow seemed to trust him. Sirius had a good comment on the tip of his tongue but a glance at Moony refrained him from letting it go. Remus was glowering at him, and the sight was enough to destabilise him. Moony had never been angry with him, never! Except…

Frowning, he turned back to Malfoy. The Slytherin hadn’t moved. They were up to something! He was certain now! It had all been a plot, and Snape was manipulating Remus as revenge against him! He made a step toward his friend, but Draco sighed, the sound making him stop.

“You’re more of a deception than I would have expected from Potter’s godfather…” Malfoy drawled, shaking his head with blame.

Harry gaped. Malfoy was giving him a compliment. A twisted, made-to-hurt flattery, but a praise nonetheless. What was happening here? Was Malfoy so sure of himself in this that he dared to compliment a Gryffindor?

“He, at the least, has a modicum of common sense,” went on Draco. None reacted, too stunned to act. His eyes hardened, and he scowled at Sirius with admonition. “You kneel to greet your master,” he reprimanded.

“What?!” exclaimed the Gryffindors, shocked at such an outrage. But before any could tell more or Black punch the git for such a scandalous suggestion, Sirius felt his legs tottering and all strength failing him as he went down on his knees in front of the Slytherin. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t insult the rod, he could only snarl at the offence. Grinning, Draco patted his head. “Good dog.”

Behind him, Remus was staring at his ex-best friend and new lover. He hesitated on whether to chuckle or be horrified at it. If Severus hadn’t gone away, the sight he would have been awarded would have been payment for many, many pranks. Moony would have to put it in the man’s Pensieve as thanks for accepting his request. He wasn’t aware of the pair of eyes observing them from behind a corner.

Students were screaming, taking their wands out, yelling at the obvious Imperious that was being used to subdue their hero. But the headmaster, that had remained observant since the beginning of the feud, ordered them to calm down.

“Children,” he beckoned, “This affair doesn’t concern you. Sirius chose a path; it is too late for him to change.” Albus wasn’t happy with what he was doing, but this affair had to be settled. Dark times were ahead, and old petty disagreements would only entail misfortunes. As it already had, twenty years ago… Had he tried explaining the problem to Severus, had he not protected Sirius, had he repaired the injury made to the Slytherin, would his friend have joined Voldemort? He wouldn’t repeat his errors.

“He chose a path?” echoed Harry, frightened, “What do you mean?”

“That he is nothing but a dying man I took from his prison,” replied Draco in the old wizard’s place. He swirled back to Sirius, his looks dangerous, shadows in his tail, waiting to be unleashed, to punish the offender. “You forgot your place, Black,” Draco spat the name. “I gave you to professor Snape, but you deliberately decided to disobey one of his orders. You insulted him, then me. You made a mockery of him whereas he was the reason you were out of your Hell!”

What? Sirius froze on the cold floor. Malfoy had already mentioned something like that two weeks ago… But that was stupid! Remus had been the only incentive! Why would Snape have helped him come back? They hated each other!

“I should send you back for this insubordination,” warned Draco. Remus shuddered involuntarily as Draco lifted Black’s chin so that they were eye to eye. “I could but I won’t. It never was my intent. But as I said, you forgot your place. Remember who caught Wormtail, Black. It wasn’t you or one of your disgusting groupies. It was my mother. Without us, Slytherins, you’re nothing but an escaped convict, dying in a world he can’t begin to understand.”

Sirius’s breathing was quickening. He knew that! And that’s what he had been trying to forget for the past weeks! That he owned his innocence to his cousin and his life to her son. The truths being spat in his face were hard to bear. But who cared about these verities? He was someone now while they were nothing!

But Draco was going on. “When I took you out, you accepted the deal. Now you have to pay by its terms. Because you used your demon status to get away from harm, you will also be punished by their laws.”

“What?! You can’t! I’m a human!” He wasn’t even surprised to discover that he could talk again; the blow to his vanity was too much to take. He didn’t know much about demon laws, but demonists were neither nice nor gentle… They were reputed to be possessive… And he had insulted a friend of Malfoy’s.

“No, you’re nothing.”

The use of the word he had been qualifying them with some seconds before struck him.

“You once were a true Black, and I had vainly hoped that you could have inherited from the family the same good traits as my mother. But she talked to me about you, and I realised my hopes were unfounded. Then I thought that, maybe, Azkaban and the Shadow World would have taught you some compassion, pardon, guilt, or respect. Again, I was wrong. After all these years, you’re still the same obnoxious git.”

Draco never glanced at the Gryffindors. Only body of Black separated the bunch of students from him. Many were gritting their teeth, but some were calming down, wondering where was the truth in the harsh words. “I offer you this day to talk a last time with your friends,” Draco let the sentence fall, “Tomorrow, you will enter at my service, and I assure you that Snape’s demands will seem heaven compared to what awaits you with me. You will serve me to excuse for your past errors and only an action worth redeeming your misdeeds will grant you again your freedom.”

o-

The room he had been given was particularly empty. Students had been forced to go to classes, soon followed by their professors, and Sirius had remained alone for his last day of liberty. At first, he had gone to Dumbledore, in expectancy that the old man would have a solution for him. But the headmaster had explained it had been only his choice to make, and it was too late to turn back. He then had tried to escape but had soon realised that the strange curse that was on him prevented him from running away. He thus had retired to his room and absorbed himself in the contemplation of his ceiling. His only consolation was that the Gryffindors should be giving Hell to Snape in their potion class.

He wasn’t certain of what to think. It was actually rare that he really felt at a loss, but it was one of these times, and it was hard to bear. How could they all believe what Malfoy said? How could they allow him to treat him so? Sirius had narrated Albus how, when Draco had rescued him, he had been surrounded by death-eaters. But the great wizard had claimed that Malfoy was not Voldemort’s minion. Harry too had protected the Slytherin. Had they all been brainwashed? Or had he missed something?

His feelings were messed up. He wasn’t sure on what to believe anymore. He hated Snape and the Malfoys, and they loathed him in return. Yet they had helped him. Remus was his friend, his almost brother. Still he had blamed him. His heart was so confused that he allowed rage to fly in once more. It was the Slytherins’ fault! They had bewitched Dumbledore, Moony, and Harry! He wouldn’t let them! He reached the door in a dash and opened it wide, only to bump into a human form; both stumbled to the floor.

Surprise choked him as he helped his visitor up. “Don’t you have classes to teach?” he asked with astonishment, immediately forgetting his previous anger. Out of the four Marauders, Moony had always been the serious one, the bookworm of the group. He was certainly less of a bore than Hermione appeared to be from time to time, but he used to make sure they had most of their homework done in time. It was indeed peculiar of him to miss classes.

“I do,” the professor replied, raising his eyebrows, startled that his past friend had only remembered the role he played in the school. He dusted his robes with light brushes of the hands, aware that it made him look fussy, but he had few enough set of robes that he could take good care of them. “But I needed to talk to you. I used Draco’s duplicating draught.” He smiled. Such sensations he had never felt. His mind was here, but it was elsewhere. He was walking into Sirius’ room, but he was making a demonstration to his students. It was incredible, even with the knowledge he’d have a headache for the next few hours. Draco had warned him about the secondary effects of the potion: the mind was split in two, causing stress to the brain and, if used for a prolonged period, weakening the heart. The many months Lucius had spent under the potion’s influence were the main reason for his current fragility.

“Duplicative draught?” Sirius repeated, frowning. “Harry talked about that…” Or so he thought he remembered. He wasn’t certain, given the very little attention he had wasted on every Slytherin-related tale.

Remus smiled at his friend. The mention of Draco hadn’t induced the horrible reaction he had anticipated from Sirius. However, as he assumed it was only a matter of time, he’d better make use of the respite he was offered. “I suppose he did. It caused many comical situations this last year. And I’m pretty positive that this isn’t the last either…” He stopped as Sirius’s eyes were shadowing, presenting a look he had never expected to see on the man.

“What’s happening here, Remus? All this that you tell me… I feel like I missed something so important that it affected all of you.” He couldn’t fathom it. Harry was happy, Remus was happy. Dumbledore was confident on the outcome of the war. And Malfoy was at the centre…

“Yes, Sirius. You missed the redemption of a snake.”

This was the last blow to his pride. His brain was definitely fucked up. “I don’t understand. How can you all believe that? He’s a Malfoy, he’s evil!” There was little ire left in his voice. He was tired of resisting, of fighting for his world back, of vying with Draco for the title of ‘saved’ evil man.

“And you were a Black…” Remus reminded gently. “We didn’t think any less of you. I still don’t.” He looked at his friend struggling with his emotions. Sirius had been a messy, evil child back in school, but Lily’s influence had progressively transformed James, then him. He could be good and nice when he wanted. He just needed the right incentive. Despite all he wanted to believe, Azkaban and the Shadow World had left him on edge; and the two weeks since his come back hadn’t improved the situation.

It had been a surprise to Remus to discover Sirius and Draco couldn’t bear each other. To Sirius, Draco was a Slytherin. To Draco, Sirius was a Gryffindor. Yet they were so much alike… Both had faced their families, their beliefs. On Draco’s part, there was little that he could change: the boy simply didn’t care for his elder past his relation with Remus. But on Sirius’ side, Lupin would work and make him realise that the fatherly feeling he desperately tried to hide could apply to many persons.

o-

Contrary to what Sirius hoped, and considering the situation, the Potion class went by relatively calmly. When hearing about it, Slytherins had rejoiced at the breaking of their enemy. Draco had snorted at that. Not at his mates, but at the Gryffindors. Dumbledore had done them a good turn by keeping the meeting secret, and they had been stupid enough to insult Malfoy, revealing part of the affair in the process.

Draco hadn’t missed the look of pain on Potter’s face at the Slytherins’ comments then at the Gryffindors’ retorts. But the Golden Boy hadn’t opened his mouth. Next to Hermione who was also silent, along with Neville, he was working on his potion, and he had missed so many classes in order to train in dark magic that he much needed the concentration. Draco went on playing with his ingredients, observing his fellows. He could brew the potion in half an hour anyway; that left him plenty of time.

Severus scanned his students insulting each other. A gush of pleasure filled him at the stoning. It had been long since his children had so valiantly fought for him. It had also been long since he had last enjoyed sharing their company. When he had been a spy, before Voldemort had reappeared, he had been like a second father to them, filling the void that their non-loving parents had left inside of them. But the return of the dark lord had changed that. He had been forced into servitude again, he had hated bowing, obeying. This dislike had transferred on the children. Being discovered had made them fight back and allowed him to let go, to avenge for his years of slavery. Draco’s actions and Tom’s existence had brought them back to him.

They now were sharing a strange relationship made of trust and suspicion. He would counsel them in their choices, narrate his experiences to them, and save them from their fate if they came to him. And if they took the wrong turn, he would punish and forgive. They all knew that, whatever happened in the future, there was a place where they could find refuge. It was their first step to the Light.

Never would a Gryffindor understand that for they never had lived it. To look at the world around you and discover you were alone, that wherever you go, you would be rejected for your birth, for your parents, for your house, for your beliefs. Some may go to Dumbledore as a last resort, but so few, out of how many that would be lost? Severus would make sure that it wouldn’t occur again. There would always be a place where they will be welcome.

Unwanted, an image flew in his mind. The memory of a man, being taken away from a massacre and condemned then shut up as an assassin. The face of an innocent for the misdeeds they accused him of. Grunting with hatred, he dismissed the vision. Black was guilty! He had tried to kill him!

His eyes locked with Draco’s, and he shivered at the light smirk on the boy’s lips. As if he knew what was passing by his professor’s brain. From far away, Severus still distinguished the names Sirius and Black from the students’ hissing. In Draco’s eyes, there was a flame that hadn’t been there previously, and Severus was startled by the similarity. This gleam was so rare in a look; it was fierce, it was strong, it was wise. A glimmer he had once observed on Narcissa, and once on a man that was still a child at that time.

Draco smiled at him, and Severus felt a bead of sweat dropping down his back. The boy opened his mind, and his elder entered inside, quickly surrounded by shadows.

Where was he? His breathing became harsh and rough under the oppressing atmosphere. Everything was dark around him, and he could see nothing of the creatures that he felt moving around him, through him sometimes, of the people whose voices he could distinguish in blurs. Was it Draco’s mind? What did it mean? He concentrated to go out and realised with fright that he couldn’t. His soul was jammed inside. Well. No panicking. Draco would soon notice there was a problem and expel him by breaking eye contact. He sat on the ground and waited. Breath came out of his throat in coarse and guttural rushes of wind. The air was hot, and thick sweat caused his clothes to stick to his body.

His heart stopped a second as a creature traversed his body, and he trembled at the sensation. He lacked a part of him, as if some of his soul had been sucked from the contact. Were those dementors? No, the things went for happiness, only their kiss could steal the soul… Having no way of spotting the creatures, he couldn’t avoid another to go through him. His head was charged by the encounter, and a bad feeling ate his body. Where was he? He had to move! He got up, but the movement generated heat, and he choked, his lungs not managing to ventilate his too hot body.

He wandlessly cast a cooling charm, but no fresh air circled him. Frowning, he used his wand and repeated the spell. Nothing happened. He resisted the panic that threatened to drown him. Slowly, as not to engender more warmth, he took off his robes and jacket and breathed anew as his temperature lowered a little. He needed to go out. If he remained here, he didn’t know how long he would last.

“Draco! Draco!” he called then yelled. The boy HAD to be near! HAD to hear him!

A grey shadow moved next to him, and he shrieked. It had been of human form. What did it mean? The shadow had disappeared already. And suddenly, he understood. This spot could only be located in one place: the Shadow World. He somehow had fallen in it when penetrating Draco’s mind. These memories dated from when he had rescued Black. Severus gritted his teeth. The Gryffindor would have his death!

“Draco!” he screamed again, scared. It had now been some minutes he had been here. Surely the child suspected something!

He screeched as another shadow skimmed him without warning. He hated that! This sensation of lightning making its way in his veins, in his brain…

And his prayers were answered. In the darkness, a fire was lightened. Frantic, he strode along to it, thanking for the presence, contending with the creatures he met and their tentacles clutching at his soul. He shivered when noting that the light carried little distance, the shadows eating any glow that might penetrate their world. His heart beat frenetically when he recognised dark human forms and Draco at their head, carrying a torch. Yet they couldn’t see him. He thus was in a memory and somehow, the different world prevented him from going out before Draco had left it. Slightly reassured, he followed the group, pondering.

The humans behind Draco were cloaked and masked the way of death-eaters. Yet he was almost certain they weren’t death-eaters. First, Draco wouldn’t be with them, and second, they lacked the rage to kill that was the common smell of Voldemort’s minions. They had to be very close friends of Draco for him to accept them at his side in this world. But who? It couldn’t be students; they had remained in Hogwarts at that time. Someone he had met maybe? These people he met each Sunday?

They walked for some time till he caught sight of a small light, coming from a body. The man was prostrated half-naked on the floor, sweating and panting. Severus was shocked, despite his knowledge of the future, when he recognised Black’s features. The Gryffindor was clutching his head in a tight grip, probably racked by the same creatures that had assaulted Severus. Lips dry and swollen by the lack of water let harsh and rare breath escape, and whimpers of pain shook the dying body.

The sight was unsettling, the opposite of what Severus was accustomed to. Sirius Black was a tough wizard, hardened by life and his natural temper. He wasn’t fragile, nor weak, and certainly not vulnerable. Who was this man, resting between life and death, face contorted by hurt, sadly anticipating the moment when the last remnant of his soul would be raped away?

Severus’ eyes were glued to the wizard who was cautiously being laid on a cover by the strangers. Black’s condition was so lessened that he drooped in the fabric like a rag doll and never moved when being transported though the Shadow World. Snape stalked the group, careful not to let the gap between them lengthen. The light protected them from shadows and only Draco’s energy fed it enough to keep it from failing.

If this was the wall, what could be expected of the Demonic World? Was it alike the Human’s, or akin to the Shadow’s? Could a human live in it? Was there any life apart from demons? ‘But…’ Severus suddenly wondered, ‘How is it that there’s a door toward the Shadow World in the Ministry? Who opened it?! It has to be demonists, but then, where would be the point in leaving it at everyone’s reach?’

At length, Draco stopped and deposited his torch on the ground. Soon, its glimmer started wavering. But the boy didn’t mind as he grasped thin air and pulled it like he would a hanging, revealing the outside world. An instant later, the group had exited. Severus marched to the door…

… And bumped his desk. He blinked, startled by the sudden change. He was back, and Draco was observing him with a gleam in the eyes. What had this child in mind? Draco swirled his head to Potter then swiftly back to his professor. Severus frowned. The Gryffindor was busy concentrating on his potion, rereading his recipe every five seconds. Around him, students were hissing at each other, forgetting their work out of swelling hatred.

Was that what Draco wanted? Why? Did he truly believe that the little show of weakness from the Gryffindor before his rescue would make Severus modify his long-time rancour at his encounter? To the point of sparing his godson some well-placed insults? His lover had lost his mind!

Draco was going on looking at his professor with intent, a little smile playing on his so tempting lips. ‘Go on’, he seemed to tell, ‘You know you don’t hate him. Not anymore. Do you want to crush him in your quest for revenge? If you decide to, I won’t try to stop you, but you know you don’t. You’re not like that. You a Slytherin, and our justice is fair. We don’t punish the innocent; we don’t destroy the child. Be true to your heart, Severus, just as I was when I vowed my love to you.’

Snape remained quiet, mesmerised by the silent words from Draco’s mind. It was the first time in his short life that the boy called him by his given name. It had always been ‘professor’ or ‘sir’. Not this time; Draco had chosen to use a much more personal name. As though he completely acknowledged their relationship. Ever so slowly, the Master’s lips twitched. Once, twice, then they curved upwards. He was ready to follow Draco’s scheme. Whatever the child wanted. And somewhere at the far end of his brain, a little voice which he focused no attention on whatsoever was telling him that the boy had him looped around his finger.

o-

The weather had been cloudy for the last few days, sensing the sultry atmosphere inside Hogwarts, the tension among its inhabitants. In the afternoon, the brewing storm had broken at last. Thick and heavy raindrops were banging against the large windows causing the students to flinch out of anxiety that the magic that protects the school would come to lack. Dark thunder was echoing throughout the corridors and rooms, leading to cohorts of children studying in the Great Hall, waiting apprehensively for dinner.

The teachers had sensed their students’ incoherent distress. What could occur in Hogwarts? But they weren’t afraid, no, not really; it was more out of instinct that they had reunited in the largest room of the castle. They wanted to be together, tightly grouped against the flashes of lighting that defied the magical candles and brightly illuminated the walls of the Great Hall. The professors found no complaint about that: the children were calm like they had rarely been. The storm was taking away their thirst for fights and blood; it fed off their aggressiveness.

Children weren’t the only ones affected by the tempest. After spending some time to calm their students, the professors had found no strength to leave the Great Hall and go back to their solitude. Soon, the ghosts and paintings themselves had felt drown to the room, following the magical attraction that resulted of the storm and union of so many wizards.

Sirius had met with Harry, willing to spend his last hours with the one he loved most dearly. At first, they had wanted to find a quieter place to discuss and enjoy each other, but the void left in the castle by the absence of every living being had stopped them. Their isolation had been frightening in itself, and a chill had travelled their backbones till they had decided to walk back. They somehow managed to find a moderately deserted corner in the Great Hall.

Harry was narrating to Sirius how Snape had put an end to the stoning of his arch-enemy during Potions, menacing students with points if one dared open his mouth again, which was extremely rare of him since the beginning of the year. The Slytherins had been smirking at first, thinking that their head of house would support them. How wrong they had been. Still, it had been Malfoy that had confronted them on that. Pansy Parkinson had made to launch an attack at Harry, but no sound had come out of her open and moving mouth. Then Draco had turned deadly eyes on her, scorn and disdain evident in his look. “You should go back to your cauldron if you want to hear this high-pitched voice of yours once more in your life,” he had said. Blaise Zabini had muffled a laugh at her outraged face. No comment had left its owner’s mind after that.

“Harry,” Sirius suddenly interrupted, “Why didn’t you tell me what Snape had done?” Of all the revelations that Remus had disclosed, the story about Snape’s sacrifice for Harry had been the hardest to bear. There had been rumours for some months that Voldemort had discovered a ritual that would allow him to take the control of Harry’s mind despite any magic that would protect the boy. The place and the items for the ritual had been kept secret from every death-eater till the fateful day. The plan had been perfect, and only Snape’s intervention had prevented the worst from happening. He had offered his own life for the sanity of a boy he hated. But Death hadn’t wanted him; the role that Fate had assigned to him hadn’t ended yet. He had to remain alive, for Draco’s safety.

“I often thought of it,” Harry admitted with regret, “but always dismissed it. I was so happy to have you back that I didn’t want to soil it by giving you news you wouldn’t like.” Maybe if he had, the present would have been different. It was too late. In some hours, Draco would come and collect his new demon. Harry was confident that the Slytherin would treat his godfather well; he was a nice person when not defied. But he was sad anyway; he wished Dumbledore had let him use the time-turner...

A thunderbolt shook Hogwarts on its foundations. Students trembled and huddled together nearer the professors’ table. Draco looked at the windows as another lighting streaked the sky. He knitted his brows.

“Is there a problem?” Remus inquired nicely. He had been preparing his next class when a house-elf had joined him, stating Dumbledore’s orders that they were to regroup in the Great Hall. When entering the room, his natural reaction had been to join Severus. Funny how some months of collaboration could change men. Draco had arrived some time later, a tense look of doubt crossing his face.

“No,” reassured the boy, “A bad feeling, that’s all.” But this sensation that strained his mind didn’t want to leave. It was all too present, gnawing his heart and sapping his strength. Unaware of his master’s tense mind, Karnar was sitting on his lap, biting and licking at a lemon sherbet, a present of Dumbledore. His head was resting against Draco’s torso, and he purred when his master’s lithe hands caressed his hair. The little devil’s gold eyes were fixed on the windows, and he shivered at each lighting bolt, enticed by the power of the storm.

“Draco,” Severus beckoned when the boy didn’t give away any sign of wanting to go on. “I wondered something when you showed me your memory: why is there a passage to the Shadow World in the Ministry?”

Remus’ ears twitched. The question affected him. Severus was right: why should there be a door in the Ministry? The only ones that could use it to pass from the Human World to the Demonic one were the demonists, and they needn’t it, being able to create the portals.

Draco smirked. He had wondered how long it would take them to voice this strangeness. He looked at Karnar who, with much concentration, was licking his fingers clean from some sticky drops of sherbet and was reminded of his younger years, when he would be stealing ice-cream in the kitchen and eating them by litres, hidden in the crypt. How many times Alayin had been forced to magically clean his clothes from remnants of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and whatever had been his delightful pleasure of the day so that he wouldn’t be scolded when getting home?

“You remember that during the sixteen century, the wizarding centre of the United Kingdom wasn’t situated in London but in Glasgow? London was free of wizard influence, and many demonists had chosen to live in near towns such as Newbury or Winchester. It is taught enough in history books: at that time, wizards and demonists hated each other. When Great Britain and Scotland were united three hundred years ago, wizards invaded demonic lands. Demonists fought back. It was the Dark Times. Around 1730, the war stopped due to the disappearance of demonists. Wizards had won. That’s all.”

Remus blinked, and Severus snorted and asked. “If that was all, you’d have answered my question. You told me nothing more than I already knew.”

Draco grinned. He observed Karnar getting up and stretching his arms with a little yawn, then running to the small entrance of the Great Hall, whose windows were lower and which he could look through. “A pity you noticed. A Gryffindor would have bought it. Indeed, there is a particular reason for the existence of this gate.”

Draco’s voice was getting low, and Remus brought his chair nearer as not to miss a part of the explanation. What secret would Draco now disclose? He was excited by the trust that Draco displayed for them, revealing long-forgotten secrets. “Demonists are close to Nature, more than common wizards are. They master elements whose existence wizards have no idea of. During the eighteen century was the first industrial revolution of the muggles. Demonists were disgusted by the disappearance of their forests; they searched refuge in more isolated regions but, as they hadn’t anymore of the muggle protection, wizards pursued them. At length, demonists had enough, and they organised a massive exodus.”

An exodus? So demonists hadn’t died? They had mostly gone away!

“Most demonists were part of a community whose some members were able to create portals. They thus all departed to the demonic world. Still, there was a danger. What would happen should a demonist be born in a muggle or wizarding family after their departure? Wizards would kill him before he could grow enough to learn to open the gates. So they left an opening: the Veil.”

“But how did little demonists know of its existence?” inquired Remus.

Draco’s eyes were glinting with a strange gleam, mix of lust and intelligence. “Because the Shadow World calls for us.”

He remembered being young and accompanying his mother to visit his father working at the ministry. “Mum,” he said, “Who is behind the tapestry?”

“Nothing, dear. It is empty. That’s why you can’t go there. You wouldn’t be able to come back.”

His mother held his hand and took him away. From the other part of the hanging, the voices went on calling for him. They were whispering at him to meet them; they were recounting the splendours and magnificence of the Second World. He wanted to see too. Why couldn’t he go there? Why was it forbidden?

“It isn’t empty, Mum,” he had replied, “There is someone talking.”

Narcissa smiled at her son to hide her fright. What if Draco wanted to traverse? He was a curious boy; she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. And she would inform Lucius of it. “You must be mistaken, my sweet. The Shadow World is empty. There is only death in there.”

However young Draco was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something behind. It was the other people that were deaf if they couldn’t hear the voices. But he stopped moaning to go; it would only anger his parents. And if they were annoyed, they would observe him more and discover his hiding-place, his playing refuge. That wouldn’t be good: his Dad had already refused to let him go there.

“When a demonist is born, he is attracted by the Veil, or more specifically, by the shadows behind. He traverses it and falls in the Shadow World. There, he is felt by the demonists on the other side, and they come for him.”

Remus and Severus were silent. They hadn’t foreseen that. They understood the reason of Draco’s moony mood. They realised what he was looking at every morning, and their hearts clutched. How much time would pass before the attraction became too much to bear? Would he give in? Would he abandon the Human World in favour of his homeland? “But why is it in the Ministry?” insisted Snape.

“Well… When wizards invaded London, they soon felt the magic emanating from the Veil and discovered that once someone had entered it, they couldn’t get out. They attempted to destroy it but failed, thus to protect the secret of magic from the muggles, they built the Ministry around it. Later, they used it as an expedite way to get rid of the last demonists they collared.” Draco smirked. “They never knew what happened to them.”

“Oh… Thankfully, people’s attitudes have changed,” Remus shrugged. “A little…” He couldn’t forget the night when Draco had almost been sent through the Veil, condemned by the aurors’ unfair justice. “But…” he recalled and frowned, “Why were you afraid of the Shadow World if you could create portals?”

Draco sighed. “I knew I could go through it, yet I wasn’t certain I’d be able to come back.”

“Still you went for Black,” recalled Severus, slightly angry with the boy. Draco had taken risks. Had he been so sure of himself to put his life in danger for a Gryffindor? A Black?

Draco smiled. “Yes, I had got information by that ti…”

Draco never stopped his sentence. For an instant, his face was frozen in shock, his eyes had turned unseeing, and his mind was registering a danger. The next second, he jumped up and spun to the little door. A dozen meters away, Remus saw the little devil had half-opened it, slipped his hand outside, and raised it to the sky. “Karnar, no!” screamed Draco. His voice was covered by a thunderbolt. Remus cried out and raised his hand to his eyes out of dolour; the lighting had been so bright.

Students were shrieking and yelling. Lupin blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes to restore his full sight. It was still blurry, but he distinguished Draco running toward his demon, followed by Severus. The little devil was lying on the floor, unmoving. ‘Oh no…’ Calming his raging heart, he joined his lover by Karnar’s side.

“Don’t touch him,” advised Dumbledore, “He may need care.” The old man wasn’t certain about what had occurred. The child had been fine, even half-outdoors. How could the lighting have touched him? Hogwarts ought to be protecting its inhabitants; what had happened? He tried scanning the little body for injuries, but the demon condition prevented him from detecting wounds.

“He needs me,” Draco said back. He clutched the child in his arms and sat on the floor, Karnar above him. To everyone’s relief, lithe hands grasped Draco’s clothes, and the young face buried in his robes, which Draco folded over him. Karnar was trembling, shaken by his experience, and he sobbed inside Draco’s shoulder.

Dumbledore scattered the crowd of students that had formed around them and helped Draco, who didn’t let go of the little devil. They went beside the teacher’s table where they would find some calm. Draco rocked the child up and down, soothing his fear with gentle hushes. “Shh, it’s fine now, there’s no danger…”

Suddenly, a little voice was heard from Draco’s robes. “Ik nerst falin…” the demon said timorously, his sobs dying down, his body relaxing under the waves of transmitted energy from his master.

Draco’s lips gave away the smallest of smile. “Because it wasn’t a demon, precious; there are only natural storms in this world.”

Nimble fingers fiddled with the cloth, and the angelic face came out of its hiding place, eyeing its master with wonder and suspicion. “Erst zil?”

Draco cupped the boy’s cheeks, massaging his scalp to ease the bad memories away. “It is. It’s my fault, I should have talked to you about them.”

Severus was dumbfounded, dazed by the ethereal gentleness of Draco for Karnar. He had known that his lover looked at his demon just as a son, but the extent of Draco’s devotion and love stunned Severus. From as far as he could recall, Draco had possessed no such parental figure. Lucius and Narcissa had certainly been good parents to Draco, but none would have given him such an open and frank example of care. Where did that come from? Could it be a secondary effect of his transformation into demonist?

His thoughts drifted away as dinner took place. Karnar was already on his feet, leaping around and playing merry-go-round around Draco. Merlin, this demon had just been hit by a thunderbolt! Of course, he was a master of thunder; still… Had Draco grown so powerful that his little devil wouldn’t be affected by so strong a discharge?

Karnar’s mind was blind drunk, overjoyed as he was by his master’s kindness. How lucky he was! None of his brothers had had a master this great! But it was true that none of them had been a wizarding demonist. These were so rare, almost a legend of their own. Drenched in magic since their youngest age, the powers of shadows grew in their bodies, restrained by the proximity of wizard magic. Energy raged, rebelled, rose till it became so strong that it exploded, destroying everything in their way. But his master hadn’t; his master had stopped and controlled his fit.

The fit, when every potential demonist became what he had yearned to be. It generally marked the possession of the demonist’s first demon, for the power the fit released opened a gate toward the Second World. But his master hadn’t; his master had already tamed two demons before his crisis.

Demonists sometimes died when invoking their first demon, when attempting to defy and conquer him. They rarely survived the different magic inside of them, both thirsting for release. But his master had; his master had fought him, strove against the dark magic in his veins and tricked Death. And Hath’Gack saw Death smiling above their heads, amused at having a worthy opponent.

Wizards were funny to play with, but they couldn’t see Her, couldn’t differentiate Her attacks from lamentable human plots. Demonists could, and demonists had felt Her miss. All around the seven worlds, they were waiting for the results of Her bet with Fate. Fate had foreseen that the boy was to survive, was to rise and to battle. Death didn’t care and regaled. This demonist that trained backwards intrigued her. She observed him searching for ways to avoid Her and pondered what was going on in his head. But Mind had refused to illuminate Her.

The ancient spirit, too, looked at the child with curiosity, but for different reasons. Hath’Gack opined He had plans for his master if the latter succeeded in keeping the spirits’ attention on himself long enough. Mind contented himself with watching; he never emitted any opinion, but Hath’Gack was confident that the spirit was no enemy of his master. On the contrary.

What bothered Hath’Gack though, was the fact that he couldn’t warn his master of the attention he was getting. The demonist had felt Death and heard of Fate but had no idea that They weren’t the only ones with an eye on him. But Mind was a secret spirit; He enjoyed his independence and wouldn’t agree with a demon revealing His interest in a demonist’s existence. Only Hath’Gack’s very nature of shadow had allowed him to be brought in the confidence, but very few shared this quality and all would keep quiet. If he didn’t want to endanger his master, he would have to imitate them.

However, the immediate danger still came from Death. She was curious on the demonist’s physical limits and was no doubt responsible for the strange feeling that hadn’t left his master for days. What had She planned? What form would take Her next move? Using Riddle had resulted in Her defeat; She would use a more efficient way this time…

From his shadowing state, Hath’Gack looked at his young master. Draco Malfoy. The boy hadn’t a tenth of his age, yet he had brought him down in a will battle. Hath’Gack had assaulted the boy fiercely, trying to get a hold on the human’s mind, and had eventually triumphed, only to encounter a wall of repressed feeling. Death, pain, hatred, lust and this desire to destroy. How long had this boy resisted the demonist ascendancy? How long had he deferred his fit? And there Hath’Gack had made a mistake: thinking it would render the human mad, he had opened a rift in this so-tightly guarded area of darkness. He had unleashed the demonist.

The strength of the spell that his master had used on him had torn part of the human’s arm away. The force of will he had released had broken Hath’Gack. Still, his current situation had been worth his subjugation. He served a master he respected and that respected him in return. Moreover, the human was eager to learn, and Hath’Gack had a lot to teach.

Draco Malfoy was part of a few. After his battle for his second demon, he had resisted his own feelings one more month and even then, the respect and love he had held for the present people had prevented him from unshackling his darkness. And when that would happen…

Karnar sighed disappointedly when his master told him it was time to rest. He was having fun here! There was his master that gave him hugs and made tickling fights, the werewolf that read him stories of big great monsters that ate humans, the alchemist that created and blew up potions with funny colours, and the old man with his beard which offered him sticky sweets. He just missed the other spirit, the one that had served his master. But the human had been eaten by a thread! His master had tried explaining it to him, but Karnar hadn’t understood much. He had said something like ‘materialising’… It meant ‘to make material’ which meant ‘to transform so that it can be touched’. But it didn’t make sense: they could already touch Tom! Why would there be need of transforming him?

Anyway, he didn’t want to go! He wanted to stay and play! Or his master come with him so they could play together in the devils’ land. He hoped they would soon go there. He hankered so much after showing his master the place he lived in when he wasn’t with him. He wished to present his family. His father had narrated many stories about how there had been a wizarding demonist long ago that had reigned over the big human city of the burning steppes; and all his brothers were jealous that he had been chosen by one of them. Karnar was very proud, and he had taken the oath to become strong enough for his master.

He had been hit by a thunderbolt today; he had been rash to seek talking with a storm he had never met and had revealed not to be a demon at all… But he had learnt his lesson well. He would be more careful next time, and one day he would travel the Worlds with his master and create magnetic storms above his head to protect his sides! He would be the strongest devil ever!

Draco chuckled at his demon’s rambling, unaware of the curious gazes they were getting. Students were peering at them inquiringly, wondering what the little devil, usually so silent, could be spouting out at his master with many gestures and a resolute air. When he seemed to be finished, Malfoy pulled him gently on his lap and murmured with a well-meant look: “It is good to have dreams, little one, but you need to be fit if you want to realise them.”

Karnar looked at first stricken by the news, then reconciled himself to the evidence, conscious he had been tricked. He gave his master a peck on the cheek, giggled when he received one in response, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Draco got up from his bench, stretched his legs, and headed for the professor’s table that had finished dinning and had been talking when their attention had been drawn to the Slytherin table. “Stop smiling smugly old man,” stated Draco to the headmaster, “You won’t get any kiss.”

Dumbledore quelled a laugh and also got up, only to disappear away with Draco in a corridor.

o-

They were sitting in the headmaster’s office, a light fire cracking in the chimney. Draco had to fight from getting nearer to the fire to the point of getting burnt. The flames were calling to him, and he yearned to take control of them, to feel the embers’ ardent bites on his hands. Dumbledore offered him hot cocoa and the warmth the mug generated, clutched in his fingers, kept some of his craving at bay.

“You wanted to talk to me, Draco?” the wizard inquired with gentleness, stirring the boy out of his contemplative mood. He, too, had experienced this straining feeling. Something was to happen soon, and he had no idea what.

“Yes…” The child’s voice was no more than a whisper, and Dumbledore wondered one more time how much this boy knew that they ignored, how much he had changed since becoming a demonist, and how much more he would reveal to be. “I resign from Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore froze, and his breath got stuck in his chest. He blinked, staring at the boy in front of him. The blue orbs of the boy’s eyes were looking unflinchingly at the headmaster, but the reflection they were sending to the old man wasn’t his own. In the depths of Draco’s pupils, there was an entire world.

And Dumbledore saw in these eyes something that he had never imagined could be present in a child. Too many times had he discerned in young minds the feeling that they already had lived through too much, but in this one, it was different… There was something lacking. The deep and obscure call of his soul for a thing that he missed with a passion. It exceptionally occurred, but on this evening of November, Albus Dumbledore was frightened. Such a yearn, such a longing… How could Draco seem so little affected by this craving inside of his very being?

“But why?” he finally found the strength to ask.

Draco sipped some of his cocoa and sighed. “If, by any mishap, I happen to disappear from school without warning, it will save you from administrative problems. Much is going to happen, and I can’t predict the consequences it will have on me…”

“Have you told them yet?” Dumbledore needn’t tell names; Draco was well aware of whom he was mentioning.

“No.” Draco wouldn’t be startled at the very least if the headmaster knew the full extent of his feelings for the two men. The wizard had probably noticed his little masquerade during the masked ball. “I expect to have two more days for that.” He didn’t add that he wasn’t certain he would be granted even these small forty-eight hours.

“You should go to them now,” advised Dumbledore.

Draco gazed into space. “I should, but there are things I need to tell you about before it is too late.” The office was warm, and he recalled that he never had obtained an answer to an old question he had cropped up. “Is there veritaserum in your candles?” he suddenly asked.

Dumbledore arched his eyebrows with surprise and smiled. “As useful as it could prove to be, there isn’t. It is forbidden by law.”

Draco smirked. ‘So the old lunatic had thought of it…’ He had always found it peculiar how people tended to pour out their heart’s content in this office… But this wasn’t why he was here. Dumbledore had allowed him many liberties these last months. Keeping Salazar’s lab, changing his studies’ content, going away for a week in the middle of the term, possessing demons, having an affair with his professors… He had gotten away with burning a classroom, groping a teacher, and attacking his headmaster. Draco couldn’t afford being so indebted to a wizard. It could get dangerous… Even if said wizard was Dumbledore…

Albus observed the child, deep in thoughts. He understood Draco’s dilemma. The boy wasn’t frightened of going; he was afraid that, was he to go, he wouldn’t be able to come back. It wasn’t a matter of physical capacity but of mental capacity: once he tasted of this world he yearned for, would Remus and Severus’ love be enough to bring him back? Draco didn’t appear in a real mood to talk, and he decided to initiate the conversation: the child still had much on his arms if he planned to reconcile two old enemies this night. “I didn’t see you talking with Tom recently. Where has he gone?” he asked casually in order to hide his curiosity. The spirit’s evolution had been incredible, and he agreed with Draco on the fact that to put such good will to waste would be a pity.

Draco’s pupils flashed back to him. “I sent him away on a mission.” And in a sense, it was true. He had to survive… And he would need help… “Is your office protected from earring or spying spells?” he inquired.

Dumbledore nodded. This office was the last place in Hogwarts where he considered he could talk without scanning his neighbour beforehand. He supposed Salazar’s lab possessed the same protections, and that explained the time Draco spent in it.

“I will need to talk to the weaselette then, if you agree.” The ‘private’ part was implied.

Albus nodded again but not without screwing his eyes in amusement and asking: “What are you scheming?”

Draco sighed. “I don’t know… Nothing special. He’s here, and he’s a friend, I suppose. I want him happy.” ‘I want to give him the life he was denied. I want him to feel how good it is to love. I want to save him from his own darkness just as Remus rescued me.’

Dumbledore smiled. A light had erupted in his mind, showing him what the child was imagining. Slytherins, Slytherins… Manipulators to the core…

“Well… Time is passing, and I don’t have much…” Draco closed the subject. He coughed softly to affirm his voice and began his tell. “After I attacked you, two weeks ago, I travelled the forest and encountered many people. Some of them were muggles, by your standards. They taught me a lot about the world that I ignored, and it helped me see through my hesitations. They are the reason I defied Voldemort and took the death-eaters out.”

Dumbledore interrupted him. Only a handful of sentences and already so many questions. “To our standards?” he repeated with a shock.

“Yes, to YOUR standards. Mine have been modified by this encounter.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…” And it felt very strange to admit it, since it hadn’t happened in a while.

Draco had a tense look around the office, scared that they would be spied on despite the prior reassurance. “What am I to you? Am I a wizard?”

Dumbledore frowned. “You’re a demonist.” It tilted. ‘I met family,’ Draco had said to Hermione back in the Gryffindor common room. Muggles were non-magical humans and, more generally, non-wizards. Demonists could be classified in this class. Had Draco met demonists? Were there others? Many? But demonists had disappeared from the Earth long ago! They would have been noticed among the wizards!

“And what is a demonist?” Draco insisted nonetheless.

Albus’ heart was beating faster. Why had he the sensation that there was a huge secret lying here, under their noses for centuries? “A wizard with demonic powers,” he answered quickly, wanting, no, needing the explanation.

“Are you certain?” asked Draco in a low and dark voice. “Demonists and wizards have nothing in common. Why would a demonist be a wizard?”

Dumbledore was struck; his eyes were wide at the news. This story defied every theory on demonist existence! It destroyed everything they had known previously!

Draco went on, fully aware of the upheaval he was creating. “Voldemort wrote to me. He proposed an alliance. He wanted to create an army of demonists and place me at its head. But he won’t be able to, because the living demonists won’t follow him, and because any other wizard in age of fighting is now unable of becoming a demonist!”

“How…” Dumbledore had to sip some tea not to choke on his words. “How does one become a demonist?”

Draco was almost frantic; flames in the chimney were heating up, licking the mantelpiece, and menacing it of melting down. “You have to live near demons since you are born! To feel the calling of shadows in your blood till it turns demonic! And when you saved me from death, I hadn’t chosen demonology over dark magic, but over wizard magic!”

Wind from the calming storm almost blew a window open and silence rushed in the office as they calmed down.

“So you met muggle demonists,” told Dumbledore to himself at length, when they both had got their breaths back. It seemed so logical when you heard it. Why would demonists have no wand? Why wouldn’t they be able to mount a broom? Because they weren’t wizards! But… “Why can’t you combine both magic?” he inquired, knowing half of the answer.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “Nature laws, it seems. To prevent someone from using every race’s tricks maybe. And yes, I met muggle demonists. Actually, I learnt that wizarding demonists are very rare: the nature of wizard magic repulses and disgusts the shadows. It is only because I spent all my days in my grand-grandfather’s crypt that I was finally accepted by them…”

“By the way,” Dumbledore cut the subject short, a twinkle back in the eyes, “Were you forced to make a demon out of Sirius?”

“No… But not to would have ruined my plan… and my fun…” Draco added. “But this isn’t our current matter. If I go away, you will have to take care of professors Snape and Lupin.”

Albus sighed. It was true they still hadn’t found the one that poisoned Severus, and that alone could get very dangerous. There was an assassin in Hogwarts, someone maybe ready to repeat his criminal attempt. He had almost succeeded once, had well used Severus’ moment of inattention, and had gone unpunished. Draco had searched for the people behind this act, but his harsh investigations had led nowhere…

Flashback

Lupin and Snape were immobile, frozen on the bed by his avowal. They didn’t move, didn’t talk, and didn’t blink. Draco had gulped with extreme uneasiness. Maybe he shouldn’t have told them? Should he propose to live split in two for the rest of his life? Then things began to hum…

“Is that a joke?” Snape asked in a very calm tone.

Draco flinched and back stepped strategically. “Hem… It isn’t.” Unfortunately. But how could he explain to humans that he loved the two of them, differently but yet to the point of wanting both in his bed? That he would be desperate should one refuse him his affection? That sex could be an exchange of energy, a show of love, and no big event that bound people together? That demonists were used to bedding their friends for the sheer fun and pleasure of it? That they could have a dozen mates at the same time yet be completely devoted to each?

The look of hurt in Lupin’s eyes unsettled and upset Draco, making his heart jump. It wasn’t supposed to grieve them! Draco let a painful sigh escape his lips. “I won’t try to induce you into a relation you don’t want; just don’t doubt my love for you…”

He had left the professors alone in the lab to come to terms with his declaration. There was little that he could do. It was exclusively up to them to decide if they could accept a liaison with someone, knowing this person loved another just as much. However excruciating the result could be, he wouldn’t force or lie to them.

Leaning against the cold bricks, he sighed again, ignoring the stares he got from his fellow Slytherins. He was tired. Searching for Black had exhausted his reserves. Opening a stable gate toward the Shadow World was no small matter. He had had to search for a place where the wall between the Human and Demon Worlds was thick and would be close enough to the Ministry where Black had been thought dead. That had led his friends and him in wizarding London in which the danger that they would be surprised by the aurors had been great and tiring. In there, the tales of the dark shadows had been more beautiful and incredible. They had told of the large stretches of sand, of the active volcanoes and the deep and magical forests at their bases. It had taken all his energy to concentrate on his task, unmoved by their attracting and tempting stories of demonist’s glory.

Draco caught sight in the common room of the exact person he had wanted to see. Rage and hatred at the memory of Snape falling from poison rushed in his mind, and he rushed to his roommate before he could escape his wrath. Grasping Nott’s collar, he dragged the struggling and yelling Slytherin to their common dormitory, chucked him in, and closed the door.

Who had attempted to poison his potions master? Who had wanted him dead? And who was going to pay for that? Shaking from fear and on the floor, Nott was watching with horrified eyes the shadows and fire sparks that were escaping Draco’s sleeves and receded frantically until he bumped into a wall. Draco marched to him, lifted and flattened him brutally on the bricks, but before he could interrogate the wizard…

“It’s not me!” cried out Theodore, as if knowing the reason for Draco’s anger. His eyes were fixed on the flames licking his robes. “I already said everything; it wasn’t a death-eater…”

Draco knitted his brows. What was that now? “You already said everything?” he repeated, intrigued, pressing shadows on his suspect.

“Yes,” interrupted someone from behind them, “To me.”

Draco abandoned Nott, who collapsed to the floor, and turned to the voice. Zabini was sitting on his bed, the thin smirk on his lips contradicting the worry in his pupils. “Blaise,” he saluted, unsure of what conduct to adopt with his friend, or maybe ex-friend after their last encounter…

But the Slytherin didn’t seem to mind as he slid from his mattress and advanced on them. He bent on Theodore and snorted when the boy tried to disappear in the wall. Then he turned to Draco. “I had a small discussion with this death-eater. Seems like he wanted to drug you by means of soporific and take you to You-Know-Who. But while he was waiting for the good occasion, he saw another in fiddling with Snape’s drink. No way to know who it was…”

Both tormentors of Nott observed each other for a split second, each wondering what the other was thinking. Draco knew that Blaise ought to resent him for the attack, and Blaise was aware that Draco ought to suspect him of the poisoning just as he suspected every Hogwarts’ resident. But couldn’t their friendship be true and their union stand adversity? Frightening Theodore to no end, they grinned broadly and clasped hands.

“I’m sorry,” admitted Draco with a sad look. He regretted hurting Blaise. The boy was too nice a Slytherin for his own safety. He had tried to help Malfoy and had paid for it.

Blaise smiled with amusement. It wasn’t common of a Malfoy to excuse. He just would have to use it later against Draco. “I figured you would be, and I forgive you. But don’t believe the hour I spent in the infirmary won’t cost you a lot.”

Next to them, Theodore was pondering on whether he could escape unnoticed. Maybe he should ask his mother if he could change school during the year… The dark lord wouldn’t like it though: the young Nott’s presence assured him a spy in the school. But Parkinson could replace him, right? Still, Theodore hesitated on this step: he wanted to learn what misfortune had befallen his father and the other Azkaban prisoners. He had first believed that the dark lord had rescued him, but his mother had soon crushed his hope: the prisoners had vanished. The dark lord suspected the young Malfoy had something to do with it. But how could Draco have entered Azkaban and taken away thirteen grown men under the aurors’ very noses? Yes, he would stay a little longer, till he discovered where Dumbledore’s minions had taken his father!

Suddenly, he realised the silence in the room and saw Draco and Blaise sniggering at him and advancing menacingly toward him. Oh that was bad… He laughed tensely and cringed. “Well… I’ll go now…”

Blaise roared with laugher, and Draco laid his hands on Nott’s shoulder, clasping him tightly to prevent his escape. Definitely frightened, Theodore took his wand out, only to have it snatched away. “These novice wizards…” drawled Draco, “Can’t do anything without their precious piece of wood…”

Draco got closer to Nott till their noses were touching. “But he will be a nice boy, won’t he?”

As Theodore didn’t answer, mesmerised and frozen as he was by the darkness at the far depth of the glittering pupils, Blaise joined his roommate and lifted Theodore’s chin to meet his look. “Of course he will be, if he doesn’t want the next match to have his head as a quaffle…”

Distraught, Theodore nodded frenetically, eager to be elsewhere and surrounded by people. At length, they receded and let him go. He ran to the door, nearly stumbled in his hurry, and exited the room, his wand still in Draco’s possession.

They remained alone in the dormitory and looked long and pensively at the door. Blaise sent a sideways glance to his mate and broke the silence. “Fancy a duel?”

End of Flashback

“Draco,” Dumbledore called softly, stirring Draco from his thoughts, “There is another matter we need to discuss…” The boy waited patiently for the old man to explain his worries. “During two months, I felt magical energy escaping from your right hand… wizarding energy. Even when you had become a demonist, it remained. Still, it ceased some weeks ago.” He stopped as Draco had turned a curious look on his own hand, observing it with care.

“It was tickling… But I don’t know what it was…” said the boy more to himself than his headmaster.

“If you agree…” Dumbledore sighed, “I’d like you to go to Poppy and allow her to take a blood sample. If this energy is linked to what I suspect, it could get dangerous…”

Draco frowned, but before the conversation could further, the Gargoyle had opened…

o-

At each metre he marched, at each step he mounted, he neared the top of the scaffold. He didn’t want to go! Why had Moony decided to play jailer and remind him he was to meet Malfoy? Why was his friend deliberately betraying him in such a painful way? Didn’t Remus remember that he was leading Sirius toward what would be his life till his body saw fit to die?

Sirius had to admit that he had been surprised by the Slytherin demonist’s attitude in the great Hall. Was this Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, spoiled-rotten brat, prince of Slytherin, tormentor of Gryffindors, and his soon-to-be master? Impossible. Draco Malfoy was an arrogant git who cared for nothing and nobody save himself, who destroyed and slew every obstacle on his way to power. Was such a transformation possible, as Remus claimed? No… A god was playing a trick on him! He was still in the Shadow World, growing insane and having nightmares! No… It was Snape! The greasy now-half-death-eater was taking his revenge! He had bewitched the Malfoy heir to act normal for a change. He wanted Sirius to become mad on the whole matter! No… It was Dumbledore! The old man had had enough of the whining child and had presented him with an ultimatum! Yeah, that was it…

In the office, Dumbledore and Malfoy were sitting at the desk, each faced with a mug. Their faces were calm: they had heard the company coming up the stairs. Because, when Remus had come for Sirius, a Gryffindor and an intruder had followed. The Gryffindor was Harry, which Sirius had accepted at his side gratefully. The intruder was Snape, and Padfoot had deeply hoped the man would fall in some secret room of Hogwarts on the way… He hadn’t had this luck…

Not even bothering to greet them, Draco sneered: “Ready to meet your fate, Black?”

Sirius glared at the Slytherin’s back and missed the slight smile of complicity from Dumbledore to the boy. Prudence warned him to keep his mouth shut from insulting Malfoy. “I hope you’ve said your good-byes,” Draco went on, “A very long time may pass before you come back. They may not be alive anymore to hear what you will then have to tell…”

Sirius blinked. Was that a joke? No, the tone was much too serious. And suddenly, Sirius was afraid. His heart squeezed tight for his future and for that of Harry. What would happen to his godson when he was away? What scheme would Voldemort realise to get rid of him? And who would be there for him? A dark man in the room unwittingly attracted his sight. Remus had narrated the story: this man had saved Harry, sacrificing himself in the process. Getting tortured by Voldemort and his death-eaters for interrupting the ritual at the crucial moment, ruining it definitely, he had barely managed escaping with his life.

Sirius suppressed a sigh and lowered his eyes. Qualm and apprehension filled his mind as he fathomed Harry’s protection had never been his to accomplish. The prophecy had no need of him.

“Nothing to add?” asked Draco a last time. “Then go!”

Next to Sirius, a curtain appeared out of thin air, and he stared blankly at it, bad memories rushing forth in his mind. He touched the material with a hand and cringed at the velvety feel of it. How could something be so soft whereas it hid such horrors?

Harry looked with fright at his godfather, never knowing where the truth lied. His only hope was a wink from Draco during potions, the beginning of insurance that the blond Slytherin would cause no hurt.

Sirius grasped a handful of cloth to steady his wavering body. He glanced at his godson a last time, carving the image in his head, then he turned to Snape, his eyes fixed on the teacher’s robe, as he couldn’t get them to stare at the dark ones of the potions Master. Sirius trembled at the words that formed in his mouth, and he clutched tighter at the material, his resolution faltering. At length…

“Protect him!” he hurled the request at Snape, unable of telling more to his long-time enemy, and walked directly through the veil.

Harry’s eyes opened wide, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand when Sirius went through the hanging and disappeared from his view…

Only to reappear by the same place…

Sirius frowned, Harry choked with joy, Dumbledore smiled, Remus chuckled, Severus smirked, and Draco snorted. Black touched his body with wonder, verifying it was still whole, and all turned to the Slytherin child. He was still calmly sipping his chocolate, but a mischievous gleam glittered in his pupils. “It took you long enough, Black…” he drawled, “I was getting desperate to find a hint of good in you…”

The strangeness in this was that the sentence came from Malfoy.

“Well…” Draco deposited his empty cup on the desk where it vanished in a puff of smoke and faced Severus. “Do you consider it was enough?”

Severus pursed his lips in a thoughtful gesture and observed Sirius through screwed eyes. “Almost…” But despite the obvious progress, he wasn’t letting Black go away with so little a punishment. “It lacks something though…”

“Of course!” Draco exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Where was my mind?” He took a vial out of a robe pocket, uncorked it, and displayed it to Snape. The man sniffed it, and his eyes shone darkly before he quietly nodded his assent. Satisfied his potion had passed the necessary test, Draco swirled back to Black. “Lie down!” he ordered.

“What?” cried out Sirius, not fully recovered yet from his adventure. “Why?” Everything that came from the young Malfoy was potential danger.

Draco grinned childishly. “Professor,” Draco asked Snape, “May you be as kind as to petrificate him, please?”

Snape smirked as he got out his wand. “My pleasure.”

Reacting in a dash, Sirius went for his inside pocket, and he remembered too late that Malfoy had taken his wand two weeks ago, claiming a ‘servant’ had no need of it. He froze, and his numb body hit the floor with a muted bang.

Harry peered at Remus for an answer, but the man shrugged his shoulders, stating his lack of knowledge of the plot. The young Gryffindor knew fairly well that he was much too calm in such a situation, but, after all, Malfoy was on their side… And it was more restful just to observe the action from far away rather than stressing over what the devilish Slytherin would invent. And he would never admit it, especially in front of Sirius, but it was way funnier too…

“Exactly how I wanted you,” Draco rejoiced, smirking before taking Sirius’ wand out of his own pocket and sitting on Black’s immobile body, one leg on each side of him. He dipped the wand’s tip in the potion and grinned. “Don’t be so tense Black… I could miss my aim and poke your eye. Anyway, there is no need to be afraid; it’s only a nice little drawing…”

Draco bent on Sirius and connected the wand with the man’s forehead. Applying himself to his work, he drew forms with the tip, dipping the wand in the potion as much as necessary. Then he straightened up and admired his creation.

When he was back at Snape’s side, the Potions Master magically liberated their prisoner, and the animagus got up slowly and patted his own forehead, unsure of what to expect. Harry’s saucer-like-eyes warned him against the ‘nice’ nature of the drawing… Then the corner of the boy’s mouth twitched, and Harry laughed earnestly. ‘Fine, let that be Snape’s little revenge for the stories…’ thought the boy, ‘Malfoy, you’re such a git… and a great one at that…’

And Harry was reminded of last year. At the same period, Snape was still in a coma, Malfoy was tormenting his fellows, Remus was suffering from his curse, and Sirius was thought dead. Had someone told him that he would learn to appreciate the Slytherin’s humour, he would never have believed him or her.

“What?” inquired Sirius, now really afraid, “What is there? What did he do?”

Remus hid his smile behind his hand; unfortunately, Sirius caught sight of the amusement glittering in the brown eyes and glared at him. “You traitor!” he hissed, “Tell me what’s on my head!”

Unseen, Draco blenched imperceptibly. Frowning, he went to the window and silently scanned Hogwarts’ grounds. There was something near, something dangerous! His breath got deeper, and his fists clenched hard. Interrupting their fun and anger, every person in the room turned to him, wondering what was befalling them.

‘From far away, I hear it, the roar of the dragons flying down their rock mountains, the guttural growl resounding in their throat, the hushes of scalding steam coming out of their nostrils. They tell me an enemy has entered my lands.’

His teeth cringed, and a growl formed in his throat. The fire in the chimney suddenly went wild at the demonist’s rage, burst out of the fireplace, and fed its master’s energy. Shadows of the room grouped at Draco’s feet, an enormous mass of dark. The black mist slithered round the demonist’s legs and back, and the skeletal head of a dragon took form in the shade, overhanging Draco’s right shoulder. Draco’s face was contorted by hatred, ashen from lack of blood, his pitch-dark ebony eyes shining with evil, staring right at a spot in the forest. The misty bones tightened up, clinging together under the pressure of fury, and the tremendous jaw opened, revealing long, sharp, and deadly fangs, letting go a hollow and lugubrious roar escape. The growl resounded gruesomely in the small office, the strength of it vibrating in the walls.

When the echo of the roar extinguished, a macabre silence reigned in the room. The shadows dispersed once again, and the flames faded to blazing embers in the fireplace. Draco’s breath calmed down as his wrath abated, and he turned back to face the office.

All were stunned, none daring to utter a sound. In a corner, Remus had withdrawn, tense and terrorised in the corner, the wolf in him sensing the danger spurting from the child. The full moon was the day after, and he couldn’t resist the ascendancy of the beast that ordered him to hide in a corner. The wolf was puzzled. Was that the boy that had freed him from his prison? That had run the forest at his side? No, it couldn’t be! It wasn’t his boy; his was nice and kind! It wasn’t him!

Who was this human? Why was he emanating death and a wish to kill? There was no prey in sight! Why was he so angry? Had the wolf done something to upset the human? No! He had been nice! He had killed no one! He was innocent! He didn’t want to be locked up! He wouldn’t let them confine him in the small cave again! He would fight!

Remus’ eyes were wide opened in fear, and his nails clawed at the stone at his back, as his mouth voiced a howl in a silent prayer that a door would open and allow him to escape. He knew he was giving free rein to the wolf, that he ought to resist, but Draco’s display of rage had astounded him and terrified the wolf. He saw a potential enemy, a human of great strength that mastered beast language.

Draco sighed with remorse and made his way to the werewolf. At the boy’s approach, Remus showed teeth and growled, surprising everyone. What had just happened? What had Draco done and why did it affect Remus so badly?

Draco stopped two feet away from his professor. The werewolf had ceased menacing, but his pupils still sparkled with suspicion and mistrust. Ever so slowly, as not to frighten the werewolf by a sudden move, Draco extended a hand toward Remus’ face. The man’s eyes were fixedly riveted on the boy’s, but Draco was aware that, at each instant, the wolf knew exactly were his hand was; he could feel it. When Draco interrupted his move, his fingers were an inch apart from the werewolf’s mouth.

Never letting the boy’s sight out of his, Remus cleared the last centimetres and sniffed the offered hand. The smell radiated remnants of offensive magic, but the strongest emanation was of sand and reminded the wolf of what he imagined was desert. Behind, here it was, the delicate scent of cologne mixed with Dracaena and lantana, enriched by a hint of lemon. Remus breathed the smell in, savouring its flavour in his throat, and whined his approval softly. He had forgotten the fond aftertaste of small rodent and the excitation that this essence rose in him whenever he was faced with the boy, natural prey by his odour yet also predator by his powers.

It truly was his boy after all. Satisfied by the examination, the wolf dwindled as his fear vented away, thus allowing Remus to take back the full control. The man straightened up and winced at the look from his friends. “Sorry,” he quavered. When they remained standing, mouth gaping, he added “Full moon tomorrow” as an explanation.

Finally, they began reacting. Draco tossed his wand at Sirius, grasped Severus’ arm by a hand and Remus’ by the other, and retreated to the door.

“Malfoy!” Harry called back, making Draco grumble at the interruption.

“Potter?” he asked, eager to be elsewhere, far away from this place that reminded him of his problems and responsibilities. He had very little time left and intended to spend it in calm.

“Is Sirius free?” the Gryffindor inquired, pleasantly surprised at the outcome of this bad joke.

Draco stared at the blanching man in question and smirked. “He is, but he remains a demon. Thus I suggest he takes care not to cross a demonist.” Before any other question could fuse, he ran to the stairs, his professors in tail.

Sirius sighed profoundly and subsided in the neighbouring chair. “He’s the Devil…” he murmured.

“And I fear this is only the beginning…” Dumbledore added with a secret smile. It took all his willpower and patience to prevent himself from going for a stroll in future. Fate’s intent was getting more patent day after day, and he was eager to see the result. How could someone not be confident considering this team they had?

Sirius being still stunned by the last events, Harry took leave from the headmaster and led his godfather back to Gryffindor tower where all students were probably waiting for his return. The distraction provided by Remus had conveniently made the man forget about the inscription on his forehead, and Harry wondered how his housemates would react at Sirius Black, hero of the war, with ‘Mounted by a Slytherin, possessed by another, my life got hot like Hell’ written on his face.

o-

In Salazar’s lab, Remus and Severus were sitting on the sofa, eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth and silence of the room. Draco was lying on the floor between them and the fireplace, head resting on his crossed arms.

Remus was quietly overjoyed, his heart swelling to rupture. He had often hoped that he could find someone somewhere that would accept him despite his condition, someone that would accept to be mated to and by a werewolf. He had never expected to meet someone stronger that would do the claiming. But he had.

Draco Malfoy, demon master, had decided that the werewolf would be his to tame. And he was said to be very stubborn.

But this was no time for mating. Draco had wished for forty-eight hours, and they had been refused to him. He wouldn’t be granted more than a day. Suddenly, his ears twitched, and his head rose up in a dash, his eyes staring intently at the window. The adults interrupted their physical appreciation of the cosy room, wondering if they would have a repetition of the previous hour.

Draco only sighed. ‘I feel it calling to me from behind the world barrier. My body yearns for this that it cannot fathom. The hot wind of death on my face, the dark flames of the volcanoes in my hands, the burning sand of the blazing steppes under my bare feet, the scorching rays of sun inside my eyes. Everything here is too cold, and I never have enough of the faint warmth that can transmit the wood fire in the chimney.’

Then he abandoned the window, and his eyes locked with Severus’. The boy got back up, and the adults gasped as he plunged his hand inside his stomach. But, despite the weird and unnatural position, he seemed not to be hurt in any way, and they observed the lithe hand somehow working though the flesh without harming it. Just as soon, the hand was out and the belly once again full and covered by robes. Draco covered the step that separated him from his professors and handed a pair of small stones to them. They were the size of a hazelnut, radiating a pale and ethereal blue light. When they had each taken one, he slouched on the sofa and grinned in great glee at being once again surrounded by the two people he loved most.

“What is it?” asked Snape at length, expressing Remus’ silent thought. The pebbles were oddly captivating, and it was difficult to keep their sights from them. Mild heat reached their fingers, and they had the curious impression of feeling a heart beat in their hands.

“These are parts of my soul,” the boy softly answered. “Whatever shall happen, they will help me find you or you find me if a problem occurs…”

It was the first time that Draco voiced his near departure, and the reality of it struck in their faces. They glanced at each other, and this look permitted them to remain strong in their resolution.

Draco went on: “And wherever I shall go, they will make me come back to you.”

Yes, the boy would journey, but he would soon return. Only that mattered.

o-

Tuesday, November the 24th

Remus was tense. The day, so brightly begun, had quickly turned stressing. For the second time, he had awoken in Severus’ bed, bathed in Draco’s warmth. At that instant, he had known the feeling was something he could get used to with joy. It seemed like his life was taking an all-new turn, and the family he had long missed finally was offered to him. Morning had passed, and then lunch, and afternoon came. Draco hadn’t come in his DADA class. Slightly worried, Remus had patiently waited for the end of his lesson then gone in search of the boy. He had found the child in the lab, occupied in composing letters addressed to diverse people. Glancing at the pile of them, he noticed some known names such as Dumbledore, Narcissa, and Weaselette. Remus smiled at the nickname. He doubted Draco would ever get rid of the bad habit. Knitting his brows, he caught sight of other people’s names. Reyan, surely a past friend of Draco. What bothered him was…

He stretched out his arm, picked up a parchment and blenched. “Draco…” he beckoned, “Why do you write to You-Know-Who?”

Draco raised his head from his letter and looked seriously at his professor. “He wrote to me. It is only natural that I answer.”

“He wrote to you?” repeated Remus, appalled. “Why didn’t you tell us?” The dark lord never wrote to anyone; why would he feel like inducing conversation with Draco?

The boy smiled to soothe the man. “Because it was no important matter. Besides, I told Dumbledore about it. Do not worry over that, professor. There are no more than inconsequential words in this letter.”

Still dubious, Remus let go of the subject and of the parchment, his hand automatically reaching for the cloth sachet that bent from a rope circling his neck, hidden under his robes. He had carefully chosen a safe place to keep Draco’s soul and unconsciously knew that Severus bore the same kind of item on his heart.

Sensing the perplexity of the adult, Draco swiftly ended his last letter, signed, and sealed the parchment. He rose from his chair and showed his professor to the bed where they sat. Draco smirked. “Do you remember last year professor? You were trying to lure me into your trap.”

Remus smiled, the memory brightening his mind. “Without much success…” he recalled.

“Rome wasn’t built in one day,” Draco joked, before he realised what he had said, and his face stopped in mid-grin. “Professor, years ago, you said to me you were an only child… Are you certain?”

Remus sighed and averted the young eyes. “I am. I had a twin though. He was taken away when we were attacked by the werewolf...”

“Oh…” Draco winced, “Sorry…”

Remus smiled softly to him. “Don’t be, you have no reason, you aren’t responsible, and you couldn’t know. Moreover, I was too young at the time to remember him. Why do you ask?” His parents had narrated the story to him since the accident. It was one of the reasons why he had preferred to live on his own despite the obvious problem to find work when you were a cursed one.

“I have no idea. Hath’Gack is whispering to me… It doesn’t make much sense…” ‘Apart that this brother still may be alive and that if he is, I’d better find him before you do and take care of the problem.’

Much too soon, night was falling, and Remus had to go to the Shrieking Shack. Draco handed him the Wolfsbane and headed for the Owlery, promising to join the werewolf when he was finished with entrusting his letters to the birds.

Confident, Remus went through the Whomping Willow, drank the potion, undressed, and felt his body morph without pain. ‘Another improvement of the past year’, he thought. The only garment on him was the pendant. The wolf smelled Draco’s odour and accepted the rope collar.

With patience, he waited for the boy. Half an hour later, apprehension took him. An hour later, nervousness turned into anxiety. Where was Draco? He went to the Willow and, standing up on his hind legs, he attempted to press on the tree knot. Without success, his legs weren’t manageable like human hands, and he couldn’t twist it enough to reach the opening button.

Despaired, he walked round and round. What was happening outside? Had something befallen Draco? When the stone on his chest began delivering a strong pulse, he panicked. Why was the boy’s heart beating full force? Why was the stone getting hotter and hotter each second? Why wasn’t he here? What was he doing?

A flash of dolour shot through him, and he cried out. The ache ebbed away, but all he could think about was that Draco was getting hurt. He threw himself at the Willow and screeched all he could, hoping someone would hear. Anybody just let him go out!

Through the stone, he felt a flow of sensations: rage, hatred, fear, love, everything was mixed up together. There was only one thing in the world that could generate such amalgam of emotions: a fight.

Much later, the feelings stopped and his heart along with them. It was calm again. No, it was more than calm; it was complete silence. The idea of it frightened him more than the previous battle. To think that Draco could… No! The boy was fine! He hadn’t come because he had been too tired or had met a friend on the way that had required his attention!

Digging a circle in the ground, he didn’t wait long for dawn. The night had been the longest of his life. Fighting the dizziness, he slipped on his clothes and rushed outside, only to meet Sirius. Not bothering for an explanation, he ran to the forest, his friend after him.

“Remus!” called the animagus, catching up with the werewolf, “Wait! Where are you going?”

But Remus was concentrating on finding Draco. The stone had stopped radiating energy, and he could only base his supposition on the wolf’s instinct. For minutes, they raced through the awakening forest, Remus’ alarm rising to dizzying heights.

The sight he was granted didn’t pacify his mind. Severus was lying on the floor, drenched in blood, unconscious. The front of his robes had been meticulously burned, revealing his chest, red with opened wounds and dark with scorched flesh. Remus froze in his tracks. He knew of only one spell that could char so precisely and yet so utterly. It was a demonic curse.

End of chapter 8