Winter's Flame

Draco passed one hand wearily over his face, dashing the rain from his eyes. He was tired, he was wet, and he was cold. Montague had tried to set up the tryouts to look as much like a normal game as possible - under Draco's own suggestion, of course - and he was suddenly regretting the move. He had been circling the stadium for ages, unable to see either the Snitch or his own team, so he really had no idea what was going on.

There were several serious contenders for the offered position. Against the usual Slytherin tradition of recruiting human bricks with a general knowledge of the game, Draco had encouraged the musclebound Montague to seriously consider the more nimble students who tried out, and it was another test of skill to see how well the hopeful students performed in the rain.

It seemed like forever before Montague blew the whistle to signal the end of the tryouts. Draco hadn't caught the Snitch, nor had he really tried to do so. His muscles hurt, his knuckles were itchy and if he was stuck by lightning, he'd die a happy man if he could only sleep a while.

"Malfoy," Montague called as Draco wearily landed, leaning on his broomstick for support. "Like, can I talk to you a minute?"

"Yeah," he straightened, thinking of how his mother would react if she saw him showing any sign of weakness. That was, of course, if he ever saw her again. "Of course. How did they go?"

Montague scratched his head. "Well, like, they were all pretty good, you know? So it's going to be hard to pick. I think. Yeah. Yeah it'll be hard."

Draco restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Alright. Well, that's a good thing. At least you know that whoever you pick will help the team."

"Yeah," Montague nodded, a smile slowly spreading over his face. "Yeah. Never thought of it like that, you know? But, how do I choose? It was easy last year. With the beaters. Just chose the biggest. But chasers. It's harder. You know? I mean, how was I chosen?"

"I have no idea," Draco muttered, then sighed. "Well, in your opinion, and think very hard about this. Who were the top three? The fastest, the smartest and the ones who didn't drop the Quaffle?"

Montague screwed up his face in intense concentration while Draco briefly wondered how the Captain's position had ever fallen to such a moron.

"Machete," he said slowly, referring to one of Draco's fellow sixth years. He was a quiet boy, largely unnoticed by everybody. Another member of the Draco Malfoy fan club. "Turner, and Hart."

Jack Turner was a rather evil little third year, small for his age. In his first year he'd crept under the Hufflepuff table at dinner and tied everyone's shoelaces together. Not only to their other foot, but to the people on either side of them. If he wasn't arrested before he left Hogwarts, he'd make the best thief in the world.

Carlos, of course, had only put his name on the tryout list at Draco's insistence. Carlos wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to be up in front of the whole school at regular intervals. He was, however, a brilliant flyer with quick reflexes and more than half a brain, which made him head over shoulders better than most of the idiots in the team.

"I think you should take Turner out of that," Draco said finally. "He's more Seeker material."

"But, like, we've already got a seeker."

"Contrary to common belief, Romeo, I'm not going to stay here forever. Jack can try again next year if he's still set on Chaser. And I'm not sure about Machete. He's not exactly the brightest button in the jar."

Montague frowned, confused.

Draco sighed. "What am I saying? He'd fit in perfectly." He carefully laid down his broomstick and took Montague by both shoulders, looking at him firmly. "Romeo," he said slowly. "I want you to chose Carlos Hart. The tall Italian one with the blue eyes. Do you understand?"

Montague looked at him for a long moment.

Draco sighed. "He's, like, a good flier, you know? And he catches and throws good. Gooder than the other people. Right? Know what I'm saying?"

Montague blinked. "You want Hart?" he asked slowly.

"Yes."

Montague scratched his lip. "He was good."

"Yes. He was. Now why don't you go and tell everyone the good news?"

Montague smiled again. "Thanks, Malfoy. Like, yeah. Thanks."

He turned around to walk back to where everyone else had congregated. Draco bent and picked up his broomstick, shaking his head. "Idiot."

***

"You alright, Draco?"

Draco didn't take his eyes from the waxing moon. It was almost completely round. "Tomorrow's full moon," he murmured.

"And you needn't worry about it unless you're a Werewolf," Maria smiled, taking his hand. "You should be inside. It's late."

Draco looked at her. They were in the garden outside the Great Hall. It was a rare night. The rains had stopped for the moment, and patches of the sky could be seen through gaps in the cloud. He supposed that from a distance, they'd be standing inside a fairly substantial moonbeam. "Then what are you doing out?"

She shrugged. "It's a nice night for it."

He smiled. "Who is he?"

"You know me far too well, my dear," she laughed. "Roger Davies."

"I thought he was with some blonde Hufflepuff?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Hence the sneaking, I suppose." He pulled her close and gave her a friendly hug. "Give my best to the cheating louse."

"To the cheating louse from the rampant lady-killer," she laughed. "I will."

"Lady-killer?" he grinned. "I am not."

"Then who was with you in the common room last week?" she asked. "I heard you, dearest. I was coming down to sit in front of the fire when I caught a glimpse of that shaggy blonde hair and a pair of buttocks."

"I was exercising."

"Naked? With a pair of legs underneath? Who was it? It wasn't Blaise, was it? She's been chasing you for years, you know."

"I do know, yes. But it wasn't Blaise. You'd have heard her if it was. She's really very loud."

Maria laughed. "Oh, Draco. You didn't."

"She cornered me at home on the holidays."

"Well who was this mystery girl, then?"

Draco smiled. "You'll be late for Roger."

"Oh, God, I will too. He'll think I'm neglecting him." She waved a finger in front of his face. "But I'm not finished with you yet. I'm going to find out."

"I always look forward to being pumped by you, Maria," he said, his eyes twinkling.

She laughed and blew him a kiss, disappearing into the darkness.

With one final glance at the moon, Draco dropped his head and returned to the warmth of the castle.

***

The message came the following morning, dropped onto the Slytherin table by Draco's eagle-owl. He took a brief moment to miss the sweets that his mother had sent him during the first few years he had been at Hogwarts. They had unexpectedly stopped at the end of his fourth year. She'd stopped doing a lot of things at the end of that year. She didn't sew anymore. She didn't even smile.

"Who's that from, Draco?" Pansy asked from across the table.

He shrugged slightly as he broke the seal on the small envelope and read the single word inside.

Snape.

"Snape?" Blaise murmured, looking over his shoulder. "What on earth does that mean? You're not having an affair with him now, are you?"

"Yes, Blaise," Draco forced a smile onto his pale face. "I told you I liked the colour purple."

Carlos snickered into his porridge.

"We don't have classes today, either," Pansy said in a moment of keen observation.

"He just wants me to see him about something, I guess," Draco shrugged. "I probably failed that Potions test."

"You fail potions?" Maria arched an eyebrow. "Hardly likely."

"You're the best in the class," Blaise cooed.

Maria laughed. "Apart from Hermione, that is."

The Slytherin girls immediately adopted a look of distaste.

"Granger," Blaise spat.

Crabbe chuckled. "Buck teeth."

"Beaver," Goyle added.

"Actually, she got rid of those in fourth year," Carlos pointed out.

"She did, didn't she," Draco mused. "Wondered why she was better looking all of a sudden."

Blaise gaped at him. "But you hate her!"

"I do," he nodded. "But I'm not all that fond of you, either, and I can still admit that you're stunning."

Blaise blinked for a moment, obviously wondering whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.

"She's not all that bad," Maria smiled slightly. Draco and her brother raised their eyebrows in a look that was curiously similar. "She's my partner for our Arithmancy assignment. Quite handy, really. She knows an awful lot more than I do."

"Since when did you love Gryffindors, Hart?" Pansy asked.

"I said she wasn't all that bad, Pansy," Maria rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I was going to jump on the Lion's bandwagon."

Pansy muttered something inaudible and scratched at her forearm.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Carlos asked curiously.

Natassja looked up suddenly from where she had been sitting silently, probably wrapped up in the middle of a cunning plan to exterminate the innocent squirrels of the world.

"My jumper's itchy," she flicked her blonde hair back behind her shoulder, shooting an odd look at Tash.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Whatever," he shrugged. "I'm going to my room. There's a fairly significant stack of Transfiguration homework with my name on it."

Pansy stood up suddenly. "I'll come with you," she said quickly. "I've got homework to do as well."

"Brilliant," he said, stopping himself from sighing.

They stood and exited the Great Hall, Draco exchanging a glance with Carlos before he went. The two walked along in silence for a few minutes, Draco fleetingly remembering how they had once been close. Back in the days when he cared about being the most popular boy in Slytherin. He almost smiled as he remembered that Pansy had been his first kiss.

"Do you remember when we went to the Yule Ball together?" Pansy asked as if reading his mind.

"Yeah," he shoved his hands in his pockets. "That night was… fun."

"You looked like a vicar," she giggled. "With that black collar up so high."

Draco smiled faintly. "My mother's idea. She said it looked cute."

"Cute," Pansy nodded, then fell silent for a while, an odd expression on her face. She had come a long way since first year, Draco mused. She had initially been fairly unattractive. Almost ugly. But she seemed to have grown into her cheekbones. Her face had gained a prettiness that he'd never have predicted, though that pug nose had remained as a reminder of that fact that she had once quite closely resembled the squashed dog his Uncle Rupert had once owned. "Draco," she asked finally.

"Yes?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your father?"

Draco frowned. "The day they all escaped from Azkaban. Why?"

She shrugged. "I was just wondering."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Alright."

Another long pause. "So he didn't mention any of your friends?"

"Nope. None. Why would he?"

"Just thought you might have talked about school is all."

"The main thing we talked about was how Aunt Bella had gone completely bonkers, actually," he said as they approached the doors to the Slytherin common room. "Boomslang," he said absently to the doors. They swung silently open on well oiled hinges. "Why do you want to know what my father talked about?"

"Just… making conversation," she said lamely.

"Alright," he raised his eyebrows. "Weird thing to make small talk about, though. Your social skills need some work."

"Look I…" she began, rubbing furiously at her arm. "I…"

"You what?" Draco asked, stifling a yawn. "Have an itchy arm? An incurably small brain?"

"I…" she tried again desperately. "I have to do my homework." She spun and ran from the common room towards the girls dorms. Draco raised his eyebrows. Something was very wrong with that girl. He just wondered whether it was her usual brain deficiency or something slightly more serious.

***

"Like, what is your problem?" Carlos raised his eyebrows as Draco jumped three feet. "It was only a bird."

Draco regained his composure and swept his hair back. "I don't have a problem."

"You've been weird all day. Are you nervous about something?"

Draco scoffed. "Since when have I been nervous about anything?"

"The first time you went to see Luanne Donahue," Carlos pointed out smugly. "You were outright terrified."

"Excited," he muttered darkly. "Not terrified." He glanced up and checked the time for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

"It's five o'clock," Carlos folded his arms. "Ten minutes after you asked last time."

"Yeah," Draco swept his hair back again. "Look, I have to go."

"Where?"

"Professor Snape asked me to meet him. About that thing. At breakfast."

Carlos frowned. "Alright… I'll see you later."

"Yeah, about that," Draco faltered, his mind working overtime. "I won't be back tonight."

"Why not?"

He smirked. "I told that new Ravenclaw I'd meet her outside the prefect's bathroom."

Carlos laughed. "Why so jittery? Do you like her or something?"

"I might," Draco shrugged evasively. "Just don't say anything. Blaise might attack her."

"He cares whether she gets murdered or not. Sounds like love. Use a protection spell, boy. That's what they're made for."

Draco forced a smile and waved to him, calmly leaving the room and then, when he was quite certain nobody was around, he broke into a mad dash.

"No running in the halls!" a furious Filch yelled as Draco nearly bowled him over. The frantic youth ignored him, however, and was inside the potions classroom within minutes. Panting, he fell against the wall and slid to the ground.

"You're late," Professor Snape said calmly from his desk. His voice, as always, had that peculiar flat drone about it. He was nonchalantly fiddling a cloth thing that was lying on the huge desk before him. "I trust you took the potion yesterday?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "Tasted like rotten fruit and compost. Could've used a little sugar and an umbrella on the side. A blue one."

Snape smirked. "You'll have to get used to it, Malfoy. Sugar prevents it from working."

"What about the umbrella?"

Snape chuckled and stood, lifting the cloth from his desk and slinging it over his shoulder. "Are you ready?"

"What's that?" he nodded at the thing.

"This, Malfoy, is an invisibility cloak. Did Lupin not explain to you why you needed it?" His voice was mocking.

"He did, actually," Draco replied, surprisingly defensive. He'd always rather liked Professor Snape, even though his father had always disapproved of him for some reason. "I'd just never seen one before."

"Surprising. Potter has one. He likes to flash it around. You've seen it before, actually. Several years ago, when Potter's head magically appeared in the middle of nowhere."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really should have thought about that." He glanced at the clock anxiously. "So, um, when does this thing happen?"

Snape shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. Lupin said it usually happened when night falls. Around six-thirty. But the days have been shorter lately."

Draco's eyes boggled for perhaps the first time in his life. It was a curious expression, oddly out of place on his handsome face. "Shouldn't we get going then?"

"Indeed we should." He didn't move.

"As in now?"

"After you."

Draco narrowed his eyes as Snape wandered over and opened the door. "Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying this?"

"I'm not enjoying this, Malfoy," Snape said coolly. "I feel immensely sorry for you, and I feel this proves that I was right in doubting that a werewolf was the best guardian for you."

"I didn't exactly have a lot of offers," he replied.

"The whole matter was handled poorly. It should have gone through the Ministry branch of Orphaned or Otherwise Abandoned Children rather than being decided by an Auror of questionable sanity." He glanced at the clock. "We really are pushing it, Malfoy. Shall we get on?"

Draco resisted the urge to strangle his Professor and nodded, allowing him to cover the both of them with the shimmery cloak. Together they made their way out of the room and through the halls.

"Not a lot of visibility through here, is there?" Draco complained, trying to see through the material.

"That is actually the point."

Draco shot an unnoticed black look at Snape but didn't say anything further, hoping that he would just let them get on.

They made it out of the castle with a minimum of fuss, the only person they saw being Dumbledore, whom Draco could have sworn he saw winking at him as he passed. Crazy old git. They made their way over the grounds as the rain hammered upon them from above. They smacked the protruding knob of the Whomping Willow at dead on six o'clock. Discarding the cloak, Draco ran through the long tunnel, crashing through the wooden door at the end and falling to his knees, gasping for air. He head Snape calmly following him, and heard the door shut, the bolt sliding into place. He watched Snape sit from the corner of his eye, then leaned forward, burying his face in his arms and panting furiously. A wild panic had gripped his body, holding his stomach in a clenched iron fist. His eyes were screwed up tight as spasms ran through his body. He felt like he was going to throw up, like a thousand knives were simultaneously stabbing every inch of his body. He rolled onto his side, tears pouring down over his cheeks and his fist's balled up tight. A choked sob escaped him as he felt the coarse fur begin to sprout over his body, his muscles screamed as they slowly melted into a new formation, his bones groaned as they shrunk and formed anew. Hating Morgan, Voldemort and himself most of all, he let out a desperate howl in a voice that was no longer human. A million scents flooded his new nose, but he ignored it, blinking against the newly monochromatic world and covering his snout with his paws.

"Very nice, Draco," Snape murmured. "You're the first silver werewolf I've ever seen."

Draco looked up, then down at his paws. He craned his neck to look at his body, his long tail. His fur was a gleaming silver-grey, which was odd. Werewolves tended to be brown.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Draco growled at him.

"I'm sure you'll thank your friend Lupin for it when you see him next."

Draco ignored him, sitting down on his haunches. He sighed heavily in the way that only dogs know how, then noticed something on Snapes forearm. His skeeve had rolled up somewhat and a black thing was poking out. It looked like a tattoo. Draco barked sharply.

"What is it?" Snape frowned.

Draco padded up to him and nudged his arm, noticing how Snape flinched when he touched it, though that could have been because his nose was cold and wet. Snape pulled his sleeve down. Draco barked again.

"You knew what I was, Malfoy," Snape said softly. "I'm sure your father would have said something.

Draco nodded.

"Does it bother you, Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head.

Snape frowned. "You want to join?"

He nodded.

"You're a fool."

Draco growled.

"What should compel a sixteen year old to join an order dedicated to murdering innocent people?"

Draco frowned. As well as a wolf could frown, at any rate.

"Hypocritical of me, isn't it?" he grinned humourlessly. "Advising you against what I have done? I'd warrant your father would agree with me now. Now that he has been betrayed."

Draco's ears perked up, but Snape shook his head. "I won't speak of it. He knows why they did it. A twisted notion. Best for him, though, in the end." Snape's voice drifted away, and he looked out the window. "Get some sleep, Draco. You'll need the energy to turn back."

Draco sighed again, but curled up on the floor beside the potion master's feet, drifting quickly into an exhausted slumber.

***

He woke to the dawn. He woke to the sound of his own screaming. It was like the previous transformation, only in reverse, only a thousand times worse. He could feel the fur retracting into his skin, he felt the new bones growing and biting deep into the muscles as they too grew. His face was a mess of tears and blood as, unknowingly, he had bit his lip while his teeth were still the sharpened fangs of the wolf. His body screamed for mercy as it finally stopped changing, and he lay on the ground sobbing and gasping for breath.

He flinched as Snape placed a pale hand upon his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, a note of kindness that Draco had never heard before, but he couldn't respond. He was too wasted, too breathless. Sobs of agony and hopelessness racked his body and all he could do was cry into the professor's chest as he unexpectedly gathered him into his arms, albeit awkwardly. They sat there together for a long time, Draco's sobs eventually giving way to the shakes. Snape didn't say a word, nor did he move. He held the boy as a father should have, and nobody saw the pity deep in those usually cold black eyes.

***

The castle was alive with movement as they returned. Girls sat together crying and holding each other close, boys were pale-faced and silent. Teachers were concerned, almost frantic, trying to rally the children together and to return to their common rooms, bar the Gryffindors who were directed to go with the Hufflepuffs.

"What's happened?" Draco asked weakly, painfully aware that his fair skin had turned an odd shade of grey, somewhat akin to the colour his eyes had once been.

"I don't know," Snape said, surveying the scene in the Great Hall. "Go back to the common room and have a rest. Take whatever Slytherins you can find."

He nodded, leaving the professor to join Crabbe and Goyle, whom he saw standing together by the wall.

"I… I don't know how… how it happened," he heard Pavarti Patil sobbing to her sister. He paused for a moment, pretending to tie his shoelace. "There was… blood… so much blood… Oh God, Padma, it was awful! She's my best friend! She can't be… be…" She burst into tears and buried her face in her sisters shoulder.

Draco frowned and stood. Pavarti's best friend was Lavender Brown. And blood? The only conclusion that he could draw was that Lavender was murdered in her bed. But if that was the case, the students would already be on the train home.

"Draco!" Blaise ran up to him, grabbing him tightly. "Oh, did you hear? You must have heard!"

"Lavender?" he asked, wondering why Blaise seemed so delighted. The Slytherins hated the Gryffindors for sure, but they weren't so heartless as to openly rejoice one of their numbers brutal murder.

"She's missing! Her curtains were torn to shreds and everything! Blood everywhere. Leading out the window! Oh, isn't this exciting?"

Draco frowned, too tired and shocked to take it all in. "Um…"

"Look at Potter," she cooed. "And Granger. They're devastated. All the Lions are."

"S'pose you would be too if you found one of your friends missing with their blood all over the room," he muttered.

Blaise's smile slid from her face. "Aren't you pleased?"

"Not overly," he shrugged. "She was an annoying little berk but she didn't really deserve to die. Or be kidnapped or whatever."

"But she was a Mudblood!"

"No she wasn't. Her mother's a Witch. Used to work with my father."

Blaise glared at him. "You've changed. You always used to say how you wished they would die. When the chamber of secrets opened in second year. You said you hoped the monster killed Granger!"

"We all mature, Zabini," he said. "Even you might one day. Snape wants us to go to the common room. Go grab whatever sadistic shits you can find gloating and bring them back, would you?"

"Where were you last night?" she asked suspiciously. "You aren't sleeping with a Gryffindor, are you?"

"Go, Blaise."

"Or that Ravenclaw? I've seen you with her, Draco. I'm not stupid, you know!"

"That's news to me," he growled. "Now get going and do what you're bloody well told. I'm a prefect, in case you hadn't noticed, and I gave you a direction. Now either follow it, or I'll give you detention and good kick up the arse!"

She glowered at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and stalked away towards Pansy and the seventh years. Draco sighed angrily and made his weary way towards the Slytherin common room.