Blue-Eyed Angel
Chapter Twelve
"Where's Malfoy?" Reamann asked, looking around the Hall of Records. It was early morning, but not that early. Draco should have been in by then.
"I'm sorry, Draco isn't in today," Coderdale said, softly folding a book closed and looking over at the man who had just rushed into the hall.
"Today? Now? But this is really important," he said, smoothing down his hair compulsively.
"I'm sure if Draco could reach up into the heavens and influence the phase of the moon, he would, but not for your convenience, Mr. Rossiter," Coderdale said smoothly, though some harshness was there in his words.
"The full moon is not until this evening," he said in frustrated helplessness. He had been caught up all day yesterday and all night with the case, unable to get a hold of Draco at any point in that time. He had counted on being able to talk to him today. Now he was not even in!
"Clearly you have very little understanding of his condition if you think that he would be up to being out and about the day of the moon. Stress gets to him, and you have put him under more than usual," Coderdale said, sounding more than a touch angry now. "Do not bother him today, or tomorrow. Do not Floo him, do not send him an owl, do not go to him for anything on this dreadful case," he ordered.
"But,"
"You do your job for once and let Draco be," Coderdale said firmly, looking at Reamann with harsh grey eyes. Draco was his friend and he did not like it when people made him sick, or rather, sicker than usual. He had to admit that he was a little protective of Draco, he had come to think of him almost like a son, and he had a feeling Draco only mildly resented it, some part of him appreciative of and longing for a doting father figure.
Reamann took a deep breath and sighed.
"Yes sir," he said softly, leaving the hall with only a subdued "thank you" to Coderdale for his trouble.
He wanted to talk to Draco, he needed to talk to Draco, but maybe he was relying too much on him. Maybe he was expecting too much from him. He had not even realized how much he asked of Draco and how much he demanded of him, until he was suddenly not there to turn to. He felt bad for it, but that didn't change the fact that he really did need to talk to him.
"Shit," Reamann muttered, walking up the stairs with angry shuffling feet.
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"Reamann, you need to relax," Ginny urged while she stood in his office just a few hours later, trying to persuade him to go out to lunch with her.
"How can I relax? My most trusted and needed informant is unavailable for two days, at least, not to mention the fact that I couldn't get in touch with him yesterday, and we just had a major development in the case. We have a Muggle tortured to babbling insanity being sedated at St. Mungo's and we are no closer, if quite possibly farther, from solving this!" he said, gripping his smoothly slicked back hair so that it stuck out between his fingers.
"Reamann, I know this is not going well, and it's terrible what is happening…I can't imagine how the Ministry is keeping all this quiet still…but you can't drive yourself bonkers over it. It's not healthy and it's accomplishing nothing," she said, remaining so calm and level-headed.
"I just, I just can't go out and enjoy a lunch right now, Gin, not with that poor man in St. Mungo's…I, I have to try and find who did that to him. I can't go off and-"
"Appreciate life?" Ginny finished for him. She could tell he was upset, his stutter showing through a little, but she needed him to understand that getting this worked up would only make the case that much worse to endure. "Reamann, you shouldn't feel guilty because you have a good life. You should enjoy it, so that it is not wasted on you when so many others have it so much harder. You do them wrong to be ungrateful for what you have," she said and Reamann sighed.
"I just don't have an appetite at the moment. I swear, I'll come home tonight and we will have dinner together and I won't mention the case. Just let me work now, so I can have it all done by then," he said, smoothing his hair flat again with repetitive motions.
Ginny nodded.
"I figured you would blow me off; I already owled Hermione to meet me. I told her I would likely be coming alone," she said, turning away.
"Ginny, don't be like this," he called after her as she left his office.
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"God, sometimes I find him so infuriating," Ginny said later, sitting across from Hermione in a little restaurant in London, blocks from department store Purge and Dowse Ltd. that acted as the false front for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where Hermione worked. She was actually the head Healer on the very case Reamann was working on, caring for the Muggles that had survived so far. She was dealing with the case firsthand and one wouldn't be able to tell by how calm and collected she was at the moment while Ginny had her breakdown.
"He's a guy, he's young, and he's stressed. You have to admit, this case has everyone a bit off; just look at Ron," Hermione said, sympathetically, Ron having been stressing over the case ever since he had been brought up before the Head of the Aurors on "breach of protocol." He could not even remember clearly the scene he had been at, and was convinced he had gone mental for a brief moment, possibly at the shock of the scene. He knew better than to wear robes to a scene, but luckily it was his first warning.
"I understand he is stressed," Ginny said, talking about Reamann again, "but, it's just…damn…I don't know. I don't feel like he appreciates what he has."
"You being one of those things?" Hermione inquired knowingly.
"No…well, a little. He blew me off today, but I understand the entire department is uptight and he really couldn't come out, but I mean…" she sighed, unable to put into words how she felt. She didn't question that Reamann loved her, but there was just something so distant about him and that was only compounded by other things. "It's just sometimes I get the feeling that he sees his life as difficult. His life! I mean, he has a fairly comfortable and easy life and he didn't even know about the wizarding world when the Dark Lord returned, he was a Muggle-born first year when Dumbledore…" she froze and then continued on, not completing that specific thought or sentence. "I mean, I know he was scared like the rest of the wizarding world at that time, but honestly, he did not understand who the Dark Lord was, or why everyone was so afraid, he saw none of the fighting, the war having had little effect on him! He knows what I had gone through, yet he talks to me of all people about how tough he has it at times, and sometimes I just can't stand to hear it," she said, pulling on her long hair a little.
"I can see how that can get annoying," Hermione said as smoothly as ever.
"I mean, sure, I would let Draco rant on about tough times all he likes and listen, but Reamann is just…" she said, realizing too late what she was saying and stopping, eyes wide.
"Draco?" Hermione pressed, eyeing Ginny. "You two are on a first name basis now?" she enquired, setting her coffee cup down and folding her arms one on top of the other on the table.
"No, I…all I was saying is that, compared to some, Reamann doesn't have it so bad…"
"No," Hermione said, shaking her head slowly. "You meant compared to Draco, Reamann doesn't have it so bad. You are not insulted by Reamann because you had a rough time in the war or since, you are insulted on Draco's behalf," she said, Ginny letting her face fall into her hands while propping her elbows up on the table.
"Hermione," she attempted to plead but Hermione pressed on.
"What has been going on between you and Malfoy, Gin? You two had lunch, now you are getting annoyed at your boyfriend because you feel he is disrespecting Malfoy, Malfoy of all people."
"It's not what you think," she said.
"What is it that I think, Ginny?" Hermione pushed, trying to force Ginny to say it.
"There is nothing going on between me and Draco Malfoy, Hermione, I swear. I just had lunch with him, one time, and we talked a bit. It was nice."
"See, that's where you have me, Gin. You just said it was `nice.' Draco Malfoy is not nice. He is not sweet, and he is not pleasant," she said, furrowing her brow in something caught between slight anger, and pity.
"How do you know?" Ginny snapped.
"Well, how do you?" Hermione retorted, causing Ginny's mouth to fall open.
"Oh God," she said, putting her hands over her eyes again.
"Gin, what is going on?" Hermione pressed on firmly now, not easing up, Ginny on the verge of telling all.
"You can't say anything to anyone," Ginny started, Hermione agreeing readily, knowing any story starting with an oath to never tell another soul was a story worth hearing.
"Sure thing, Ginny."
"You have to understand, Draco is a great deal many things, and I don't pretend or claim to know or understand him…he is possibly more complex than even Harry," she said and Hermione snorted at that, skeptical, to say the least. "But I think I'm one of the only people out there that can honestly say I have seen more than one side of him, more than just that pretentious act he is always fronting," she said and Hermione tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at her.
"A front is it?"
"Don't get me wrong, he is a snob, and he is a chauvinistic bigot, and he is a bully, but that is not all that he is," she said, patting her hands on the table nervously. "I think he does that, the bullying and what not, to keep people away."
"Well, I should hope he is more three-dimensional than that, but I always figured he was just a mama's boy and a brat on the other side of things," she said, looking to Ginny to see if she was wrong. "I'm not so sure about the keeping people away part though. He always seemed to be looking for new and meaner ways to get more attention while in Hogwarts."
"No…well yes, there is that, but you see, Draco is really good at, I don't know, compartmentalizing himself? His whole life really," she said, thinking hard about how to word what she felt so strongly. He had tried to explain this about himself to her thirteen years ago, and even he had struggled with the words. "I have seen it, his control he has over himself and his emotions. He can so effectively close himself off at his choosing it's astounding and a little unnerving. I have seen him shut down his pity, or his compassion, or his kindness, or whatever the situation calls for, so that he can get by and do what he must. He closes himself off; I think to prevent him from being hurt. He comes across somewhat unflappable, and really he is, all that control key to mastering and becoming a Legilimens," she said, Hermione nodding slowly and saying nothing, already understanding the art of Occlumency and Legilimency and the kind of people that exceled at it. They both knew Draco was quite skilled in said abilities, rumored (or hyped) to rival Dumbledore now, that being one of the major reasons why Draco was so hard to trust.
Ginny took a deep breath.
"Draco is a great deal many things, like I said, but he only lets people see a few of those things, and they tend to be the bad. I have seen him when he is being, I don't know, himself? More of himself?" she attempted, not even sure how to explain that and put to words.
"Is it an act?" Hermione suggested, referring to what Draco had supposedly shown Ginny and no one else. She saw it as so much easier for Draco to have put on a show for Ginny than for him to have fooled everyone else for years.
"Why are you so unwilling to believe that Draco is a real human being, Hermione? Why does it have to be an act? I know you feel guilty about helping send him away to Azkaban and so turning him into some arsehole that is only half a person at best helps you sleep at night, but can you at least humor the idea that he has an emotional range greater than that of a teaspoon, for my sake?" she snapped. Hermione looked shocked and hurt at first, but then her face fell, unable to deny Ginny's accusations.
"I'm sorry, Gin, I'm not being fair to you…or him," she said slowly, almost not wanting to include Draco in her apology. Ginny's cheeks were still slightly flushed from her anger. "It's not an act, not the part you saw. He closes himself off from everyone…but why? To not be hurt seems hard to believe, who would hurt him if he was actually nice? I know most everyone back at Hogwarts wanted nothing more than to jinx his pasty arse because of how horribly he treated everyone around him," she said, trying to proceed while being supportive so Ginny would stop glaring at her.
Ginny thought on that for a moment and Hermione giving her an inquisitive look.
"He had told me, years ago on that night he and I spent talking before the final battle, something about being 'under socialized' as a child by his parents keeping him sheltered and alone in their manor, his only friends being a select few approved children of other Death Eater families that were basically ordered to be his friends," she said, feeling that same swell of pity for Draco she had all those years ago. Hermione's eyes softened slightly. "Draco confessed to me that he had been ill equipped in knowing how to interact with other children and people in general upon entering Hogwarts and thus why he had been so mean and why he had clung so tightly to his clique of Slytherin students that he had known and run with for years. Really, he had actually been terribly insecure and lonely while in Hogwarts, something I never would have imagined given how cocky and bold he always seemed to come across," she said. Ginny had simply believed him when he had told her all that, that he withdrew from others, felt awkwardly distant and unapproachable, but she had not asked why he felt he had to push, why he felt he couldn't have made friends. She assumed it had something to do with the ideals his parents has instilled in him: that there were no others in the school worth of his friendship.
"That's terrible,"
"It doesn't excuse his cruelty, but…" she said, letting the thought dangle there between them.
Hermione didn't say anything, and for a long time neither did Ginny.
Ginny then swallowed hard.
"Hermione, I need to tell you something," she said, taking a deep breath, knowing Hermione would not understand how she felt only knowing half the story, what little she had told her just now.
She told Hermione about the afternoon Draco had "betrayed" them and then saved her life. She told her -in great detail- about that day, what she and Draco had said to each other, and explained everything. She attempted to put in plain words all she knew about Draco because of that night, and hoped Hermione would believe her and not think of her as simply delusional and that she had baught into some "act" or "lie" on Draco's part. Hermione listened intently, but then Ginny got to the part of the tale where Draco and she had kissed, she froze.
Could she tell Hermione about that?
She was her best friend, and she had already confessed to so much already, why did she feel uneasy about confessing this to her?
Did she fear her reaction would be the same as Harry's, the only person who knew, because he had seen it?
"Hermione," she said slowly.
"Ginny?"
"If I told you that, that night, Draco Malfoy kissed me, what would you do?" she asked, not making eye contact, face burning from her blush.
Hermione stared.
"I would ask if you were joking, but I get the feeling you are not. Ginny, please tell me Draco Malfoy didn't kiss you those years ago," she said, her coffee forgotten while still in her hands and halfway to her mouth.
"Not just that night, but on our lunch together, and when I visited him in the Hall of Records two days ago," she said quietly, looking down at the table, at her spoon, at her shoe, anywhere but the woman sitting across from her who was staring at her open mouthed. She had not told Hermione about visiting Draco the other day, or giving him a gift, she hadn't gotten that far in her little story. Now she knew though.
"Ginny," she gasped.
"You promised you wouldn't tell anyonecly," Ginny reminded her.
"Oh, I know I did, but I never said I wouldn't go ballistic over this. Merlin!" she gasped, her exclamation getting a few Muggles to look their way for a moment. "You are serious; Draco Malfoy has kissed you three times, two in the last week?"
Ginny just nodded, not wanting to even say "yes."
"Oh my," Hermione said, leaning away from the table until her back thumped against her chair.
"That's not all," Ginny continued and Hermione froze. "I kissed him back…fiercely," she admitted, biting her bottom lip then.
Half the restaurant looked over at them then at Hermione's exclamation of "WHAT?"
"'Mione, please," Ginny hissed, looking around at the room and the Muggles that were staring at them.
"You're joking…you're lying…please tell me this is some twisted prank you are playing on me," she pleaded with Ginny. Ginny just dared a glance up at her. "Oh Merlin have mercy," she said, turning away, unable to make eye contact with Ginny then.
"I don't know what to do," she said.
"I think avoiding Draco Malfoy would be your best and smartest plan."
"But,"
"But what?"
"But I don't want to avoid him," Ginny confessed.
"Ginny, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying," she said, starting slowly so as to consider her words carefully. "I genuinely enjoy Draco's company. Reamann has been wearing on me for a while now, and the family has been pressuring us together while I have wanted nothing more than to take a break and find myself."
"Wait, wait, wait, so you are having warm, fuzzy feelings for Draco Malfoy, and you are talking about breaking up with Reamann? Ginny, what the hell is going on with you? I thought you were happy. I'm your best friend and if someone had asked me an hour ago if you were happy and content with your life I would have said `yes, absolutely'! How is it that I did not know at least about your feelings in regards to Reamann?" she asked, sounding hurt and even a little insulted.
"I just closed myself off to the whole situation. I didn't want to deal with it, so I just didn't. But while I was busy not dealing with it, things progressed to the point where I can't just drop everything and end it now," she said, gripping the roots of her hair.
"Ginny-"
"Please, don't lecture me," Ginny cut her off.
"I don't mean to, nor do I really want to, but you have just admitted to not wanting to be with Reamann. That's just astounding to me. Maybe all you need is a break from him to collect yourself before you are able to continue on, but these…feelings…you have for Malfoy. You sure they are not just your "bad-boy" partiality, which all us girls have in us, acting up?" she asked.
"You saying, I'm only attracted to Draco because I'm looking for an excuse to not be with Reamann and because Draco has this tough persona about him that appeals to the adolescent girl in me? Because if you are I don't feel like you have paid attention to anything I have yet said," she snapped. Hermione balled her hands up into fists in frustration but then relaxed them.
"Ginny, let's not make a row of this. Let's think and talk this through," she said calmly. "You want to take a break from Reamann but can't, you have feelings for…Draco Malfoy…but can't act on them because you are with Reamann," she said and Ginny nodded.
"That about sums it up," she said sadly.
"So what are you going to do, because honestly, you seem to be in a pickle with no real way of not ending up miserable."
"Thank you, Hermione," Ginny said flatly.
"Gin, I think you should talk to Reamann about all this."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he won't listen, he never does. He is too engrossed in his own perceived hardships and problems to give a hoot about mine."
"Ginny,"
"Hermione?" she said, suddenly sounding timid upon coming to a realization and a decision.
"Yes?"
"I need to ask you to help me do something, something major, something that goes against all reason and moral principles and will positively infuriate my family should they ever find out, never mind the tabloids should they get wind of this," she said. Hermione nodded, not sure what she was even agreeing to yet, but knowing that being Ginny's best friend basically meant she would have to be there for her, regardless.
"Hermione, I need help cheating on Reamann," she said, looking directly into her friend's eyes, "with Draco Malfoy."
Hermione looked pale.
"You're serious."
"I know it is a terrible, thing to consider, let alone do: to cheat on someone…but I'm not sure what I want from Reaman anymore, or how I feel about him. I'm not sure if all I really want is a fling, or if I'm actually looking for an all new and serious relationship in Draco…I'm not sure how I feel about Draco, or what he means to me, or even how he truly feels about me…I just don't know," she said, gripping her hair again, "But I see something in Draco that I don't see in Reamann and I think it is something Draco doesn't allow many to see. I think that means something. Maybe he is just looking for a hookup himself, maybe he thinks I'm someone worthy of seeing all of him…more of him…maybe I'm crazy and reading way too far into him, I don't know! But I have to try and find out," she said, fierce at that last.
"So what, you are going to have me help you come up with excuses as to why you can't be places so you can run off and snog Draco Malfoy? You want me to lie to Reamann and your family about where you are and what you are doing while you are shagging him?" she asked, voice becoming more and more outraged and thusly louder as she went on.
"That would be nice," Ginny said in a very small voice.
Hermione looked like she was beyond words at that point and just sat there, face flushed and jaw clenched.
"Hermione, I don't mean for you to do anything that would get you in hot water with the family, but I really hoped to have your support in this, while I attempt to find myself," Ginny said, attempting to plead her case again after a moment.
"Support in what, support in hurting Reamann, a decent and sweet man? Help you hook up with Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater and a werewolf and…"
"You know Hermione, for someone who claims such open-mindedness while shunning Draco as a bigot, you have quite a few prejudices in you," Ginny snapped. "Since when do you care if someone is a werewolf? It's fine until one wants to date someone you care about? And you know better than most that Draco was not a Death Eater, not really, that being why he makes you feel so guilty. You are just being cruel, and I expected better from you."
"Ginny, no, no, I'm sorry. I did not mean it like that. I just…oh hell," she said, looking away and collecting herself. "I don't trust him," she said and Ginny waited for her to explain herself. Hermione felt like she owed Lupin an apology all of a sudden over the werewolf thing. "He has always been ambiguous, and a more than a little shady. Azkaban does things to people, none of which are good."
"Harry said something along those lines," Ginny muttered, recalling hers and Harry's conversation on Draco Malfoy a week before.
"I have seen Draco in St. Mungo's. He goes there every once in a while begging for potions but never goes there for the full moon, I think he is kept up exclusively at the Ministry for that. He's like an addict, Gin. I understand that he is in pain, many werewolves have to put up with that, but he abuses painkillers, and alcohol, and a number of potions to deal with that and had to be barred from receiving anymore potions from Healers," she said, practically pleading with Ginny to understand what she was trying to say. She did not even mention Draco's temper or poor test results when it came to his mental evaluation and stability; the last was confidential under patient-Healer law.
"I understand he has issues, we all do because of the war, and Harry and Ron aren't exactly poster children for sobriety," she said bitterly, remembering one of the things that drove her and Harry apart. "I'm willing to give Draco a chance when the world is not. I think he deserves that much," she said, crossing her arms.
Hermione seemed to almost growl before breathing deeply and calming herself all over again.
"So this is what you want to do," she said, holding out some last hope that Ginny would come to her senses.
"Yes," Ginny said firmly.
"You know I'll support you no matter what you do, and that I love you, and that you are my best friend," she said and Ginny nodded, leaning forward across the table to clutch Hermione's hand in hers warmly.
"I know," she said softly.
"I really need to talk to Draco myself. I mean, you can still do whatever you want, you are a grown woman, but I want to see him, see what he is like and see if you are right about him. I can understand and accept that I have had the wrong perception of him for years, but you can't deny that there is a meanness in him. It was all that he let show for a long time, but it was not an act," she said, remembering painfully all his bullying, as juvenile as it was.
"I know," Ginny sighed, knowing Draco was far from Price Charming, but hoping that she could somehow lure out the better half of him, as to hopefully create a balance so that his meanness and cruelty were not so dominating. That was every woman's foolish ambition when it came to dating.
"When do you intend to start this love affair? Next week, next month?" Hermione asked, sounding a little sour about the whole idea still. Surely Ginny didn't intend to start fooling around on her boyfriend of three years the week before Christmas.
"I was thinking about inviting him to the Annual Remembrance Ball on Christmas Eve," she said and flinched as Hermione choked.
"What?" she gasped.
"He has just as much right to be there as the rest of us, even if he is not one of the people being honored. He should be. And it's open invitation to anyone that works at the Ministry."
"Ginny, they would not let him come," Hermione said, dabbing her chin with her napkin. The ball was in five days. Ginny intended on jumping right into things, so soon?
"They can't deny him, and if they try I can talk to Harry. Harry wouldn't be able to turn Draco away, and no one would fight Harry, on anything," she said, knowing the sort of influence Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Great Hero, had.
"You would manipulate Harry with his guilt to get your way?"
"Only as a last resort," Ginny assured, having twisted Harry's guilt around on him to win more than one row in the past.
"Wouldn't bringing Draco as your date be sort of conspicuous if you are trying to keep your affair secret?" Hermione asked.
"I wasn't going to have him as my date," Ginny said, explaining her idea. "Reamann works with him; I'll get Reamann keen on the idea of having Draco come along with us and have him suggest it to Draco after having already discussed it with Draco myself. That way Draco being there would seem like Reamann's idea. Draco and I can't snog while there or anything, but I don't really want to, I would just really enjoy the chance to dress him up in something nice and watch him strut about," she said and Hermione laughed. For the first time since they had sat down to eat together she managed to laugh. It was genuine and seemed to almost calm her. Ginny felt some tension leave her body at the sound.
"Oh Gin, you always had a thing for Draco when he strutted," she laughed.
"He had a cute bum," she pouted, blushing at the reminder that she had once had a passing fancy for Draco Malfoy back in Hogwarts, like most of the girls (and probably some of the guys) did. Draco had been a pompous git and a bully, but no one could deny that he was handsome and charismatic to the point where it was unfair. There were even rumors that he had Veela blood in him, but Hermione debunked that to any that would listen, explaining that Veela were only girls, and that she was not positive but she was pretty sure that he would have had very little Veela blood in him to have been born a boy, too little to then have had any significant effect on anyone.
The rumor was worth a chuckle though since Veela magic only worked on men.
"I bet he still does," Hermione smirked, her too having been able to appreciate how good looking Draco had been, even if she had hated him. It was almost that much more infuriating that he had been so mean to her and so good looking, because as much as she wanted to hate him for it, a small, shameful part of her couldn't hate him because he was so cute. It was that same appalling part of her that had crushed on Lockhart.
"I'll find out, and then let you know," Ginny teased, Hermione playfully kicking her under the table and them both laughing.
They really were best friends no matter what.
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Reamann knew Draco would be unable to talk to him that night, but Ginny wasn't talking and he was driving himself bonkers while sitting around their flat, her giving him something only slightly warmer than the cold-shoulder.
It was already past sundown so he couldn't really "bother" Draco with his problems and stress him out anymore than he already was. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't just sit at home and wait, while things were so uncomfortable with Ginny; so he wrote down what he wanted to say to Draco and went all the way down to the Ministry to drop it off. Draco would read the letter in the morning and get back to him, and Reamann would feel like he had at least accomplished something that night. Other then piss off his girlfriend exponentially that is, or so it would seem. Ginny still seemed putout by his snub over lunch and their dinner together had gone rather halfhearted.
Taking the lifts to Level Four, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, after Apparating into the Atrium, he headed in the direction of the Penitentiary
Or that was what people commonly called it.
The Werewolf Capture Unit had registered dozens of wolves in the area and they kept strict tabs on them all. Full moons for those registered were spent with the Ministry or St. Mungo's. Though they were all supplied with Wolfsbane so they were relatively harmless, they were not allowed to stay locked up in the privacy of their own homes. It was all precautionary, so the Ministry claimed. Letting werewolves linger in human neighborhoods, Muggle or magical, was a risk the Ministry was not about to take, and Reamann couldn't really blame them.
Reamann knew Draco was here. He was one of the most widely known werewolves alive still in England, and a favorite for the Ministry's constant bullying (according to Ginny.) Draco was never kept anywhere but the Ministry.
He made his way down corridor after corridor, growing more anxious as he went. He had this feeling like he shouldn't be there. The Ministry always had that feel late at night, but somehow being on that floor where live werewolves were being penned made it all the more intimidating. The corridor was silent but he was sure he kept hearing things. Fur rustling? The patter of paws? Surely he was just being paranoid.
Pushing open the door slowly Reamann peeked in at first. That led to him freezing and staring with only his head in the room.
The room was hot, and stuffy, making it hard to breathe. It smelled like straw, and fur. The room, as he called it, was long and narrow, too long and narrow to be a room really but to wide to be a hallway either. Black iron-bar cages lined the walls on either side like a prison. There were two painted lines on the floor, running the length of the room and were a little more than an arm's length from either wall of cages.
A sign was posted with glowing red lettering and it read, "DO NOT CROSS THE RED LINE! Loss of limb and/or humanity probable."
Reamann was not distracted by the room itself or the grim warning on the sign; he was caught off guard by the wolves. There were more than a few dozen of them…there were fifty, sixty, maybe more!
He had had no idea how many werewolves were in London, and these were just the ones that reported that month to the Ministry as opposed to the Penitentiary in St. Mungo's, or the ones that were not even registered.
"Wow," he said, blinking and stepping into the room to allow the door to close behind him, giving him one last waft of cool fresh air as it slammed closed.
He walked past the cages slowly, staying well in the middle of the red lines, looking at each of the werewolves as they looked right back at him. There were mostly one to a cage, but some were paired up. The cages were small and the wolves looked bored, many were sleeping, and they seemed to come in every color. Everything from black to gray, silver to brown, there were even golden and red colored wolves.
Reamann had never seen real werewolves before, only the terrible and frightening depictions of them in his schoolbooks. These wolves, however, were not rearing up and roaring at him, they were not snarling and drooling and clawing and ripping. They were not looking at him like they wanted nothing more than to eat him. They just sat there silently, watching him as he watched them. They all had such intense and human eyes. Reamann was unnerved by the intelligence in their gaze. They were still human on the inside, thinking, feeling, understanding.
"Can I help you?" a wizard behind the desk in the back asked as Reamann neared. He was short, and so fat he resembled an egg.
"Yes, I was cleared to come down here," he said, sort of indicating the badge on his cloak that he had received from the Desk Witch up by the gates in the Atrium as he fumbled with his pockets, looking for his note. "I have a letter I need to leave for one of your…um…guests, and I was told I could leave it with you, and he would get it in the morning," he said, pulling out said letter finally and handing it to the man while shoving his wand back in his pocket.
"Oh yes, Malfoy," he said, nodding while looking at the note and writing something down. "Pretty thing he is," he said conversationally. "We don't get many people down here on the full moon. Some requests come in every month but we typically turn them down since they tend to just be gawkers, all wanting to see the pretty wolves. We are not running a petting zoo here."
"Yeah," Reamann said, only half listening. He had looked to his right and saw that the room continued. The man was not at the end of the long narrow room but just at a back corner. There was a right turn and another long hallway-like extension lined with cages. If he walked down to the end, would it really be the end or would it turn right again and continue on?
Were all the cages full?
How many werewolves were there?
Most of the wolves he could see were dark, a few golden ones mixed in, but mostly a dingy color of fur met his eyes. What caught his eye through all that was white; pure, soft, and shining.
Not even realizing it, Reamann walked slowly towards the cage that was about halfway down the hallway and on the right to stand toe to the red line, staring into the cage, the only cage he had seen with not one, not two, but three wolves in it. They were all white and the two smaller wolves just sat there, looking at him with those so-human and very pale blue eyes. The third was much larger than them and was curled up at the bottom of the cage with its head tucked under so that the top of it was actually resting on the floor between its curled paws, apparently sleeping.
Reamann looked at the two young ones and the one sleeping and knew he had found the Malfoys. Draco, along with Clarissa and Michelangelo it seemed.
Leaning forward a little, one of the smaller wolves - Reamann was not sure which one was which- made a yipping sound and Draco's silver-blue eye snapped open. Draco rolled his one visible eye up at Reamann without otherwise moving, looking very much like a dragon awoken from his slumber.
Reamann swallowed hard and looked from Draco to the children, then back. Draco uncurled himself very slowly so he could raise his head while still lying there, and he just stared at Reamann.
Even though his face was a wolf's, Reamann could somehow tell Draco was not happy to see him.
Reamann then made the mistake of putting his toe over the painted red line.
Draco was suddenly standing on all fours. Reamann had not even caught a hint of movement before it happened, Draco was just swiftly up and rushing the bars. His head was jerked backwards in a painful looking snap by a thick leather collar that tethered him back with a heavy chain, but Draco pawed through the bars, almost reaching past the red line, snarling and growling. He was practically choking himself while swiping at Reamann and Reamann leapt back. The werewolves around seemed to move away to the far sides of their cages, either scared or just uneasy with all the commotion Draco was making.
"I would stay back from that one," the fat man said, waddling over. He must have been only been four feet tall.
Reamann had backed up well far from the line and Draco was now pacing the length of his cage with much contained energy, chain dragging across the floor loudly, a harsh glare locked on Reamann.
"Tear your arm right off if you go near his pups, that one will," the man said with a smile.
"He takes Wolfsbane though," Reamann said, shocked breathless by Draco's reaction to seeing him.
"Oh, aye, he does. They all do here. But they are not human, Mr. Rossiter. Some are quirkier than others, and some better behaved, but they are all still very wild on the full moon. Draco here is a little spunky and very protective of the pups is all, that's why we cage them together. Makes quite a fuss when he can't be with them and they just sit and whine."
Reamann didn't know what to say. He looked at Draco's long and lean wolf form and tried to catch a proper breath, heart still pounding in his chest.
Draco's legs were longer than a real wolf's, hind legs bent more, giving Reamann the impression they were a little longer than the front. His hind legs looked like he could manage to stand upright and actually balance on them while still also able to stand, walk, and run on all fours. His snout was longer and thinner than a real wolf's, and his neck was longer with a very full ruff, not quite like a lion's mane, but still fuller than an actual wolf's. It offset Draco's leanness vastly.
The children looked somewhat more like true wolves but for their eyes and long snouts, but that was possibly just because of their size and the fact that they were sitting so calmly, ears perked. While Draco looked larger, about the size of a man, the "pups" looked just larger than real wolves. They had the same elongated dimensions and limbs as the other werewolves, and thusly stood taller than an actual wolf would.
Reamann could not look at them or Draco and understand how anyone would ever mistake them for true wolves. They clearly resembled them, but something about them was distinctly abnormal, wrong.
Draco sat down, glaring, swishing his long, fluffy white tail in what looked like annoyance.
"Why is he looking at me like that?" Reamann asked.
"He recognizes you," the man said wisely. Reamann looked over at him for the explanation. "I have known Draco for almost four years now and still know very little about his personal life. He is a terribly private individual," he said, not using the word "person" when talking about Draco. "I don't think he appreciates you being here, seeing him like this when you know him from the other part of his life, or us being near the pups, so why don't we leave him be," the man said, pulling what looked like some raw meat out of a sack at his side and tossed it into the cage where the "pups" immediately pounced on it.
Reamann wanted to ask about that as he allowed himself to be lead away but the man saved him the trouble.
"Transforming takes a lot out of them. You have to feed them otherwise they get mean," he explained. "Typically I can cross the red line, give the wolf some meat and they will just sit on the other side of the cage until I back off. Kind'a timid many are," he said. "But as you saw with Draco, he rushes the bars. That's why he's tethered when most aren't and I've got to feed them like that."
Reamann just nodded; they were now back at the desk where the man sat.
"Why? Is that just one of his, well, `quirks?'" he asked, daring a look back at the cage that was almost obscured from view, only flashes of white able to be seen.
"You don't know much about werewolves do you?" he asked.
"Not really," he answered sheepishly.
"Would you like a quick lesson?" he offered, looking up at him while opening an inkwell.
"Sure," Reamann was happy that the man was being so understanding.
"Draco is a Greater-wolf meaning he is quite powerful, more so than most here since they are generally Lesser-wolves," he said and then explained. "Lesser-wolves are just your typical werewolves. Greater-wolves are like, supercharged, powerful, and really mean. Draco was infected by Greyback, a Greater-wolf himself, so Draco would have undoubtedly been a powerful Lesser-wolf because of that, but then he too inherently became a Greater-wolf."
"How do you know a Greater from a Lesser? I mean, do they look different or something?" Reamann asked, looking at the wolves around them and noticing they looked no different than Draco but for color, size, and weight.
"No, no, it's all about the amount of power they have, magical resistance, and their temperament. Greater-wolves, moreover, are the only ones that can pass on the condition hereditarily," he explained and Reamann nodded, soaking up the knowledge he was being offered.
"Wow."
"All the Greater-wolves are kept here in the Ministry rather than at Mungo's."
"Why?"
"Privacy," he said with a shrug. "Many of them have children or families and don't want a bunch of Healers knowing about them. Here it's only me," he said.
Reamann understood that.
Draco did not let the fact that he had children be known by many. He supposed dragging them with him to St. Mungo's on the full moon to shift would sort of give up their secret.
"Sad though, since it's the Greater-wolves that are often in the most pain and would really benefit from the additional care of a Healer. I'm not sure if it's nature's way of balancing out their power by making them so much weaker otherwise, or if it's because they fight so much harder against the disease to not be overcome and dominated by it, but I know that only the Greater-wolves that embrace their beast, and thusly become very inhuman as a result, are the ones that seem to suffer less. Only problem is, then they can't really pass for human anymore. Greyback embraced his disease, and I'm sure you have heard the stories about him," he said and Reamann nodded, knowing the stories.
"I have," he said, remembering the news articles about the werewolf during the war and sort of being adopted into the Weasley family and knowing Bill Weasley, he had a good idea of what Greyback was like.
"I wouldn't really talk to Draco about any of this. I don't think he would appreciate it. I'll give him your note and if you're lucky he won't remember you having come down here to see him."
"I had no idea there were so many," he said, looking around again.
"Yes, well, during the war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used werewolves didn't he?" the man said, looking at Reamann to understand.
"These are all people infected from the war?" Reamann asked in disbelief.
"Most of `em," the man said looking around at them too. "There are so many because a single werewolf can make hundreds of Lesser-wolves. All it takes is a single bite or a scratch. Greyback had made it his mission in life it seems to infect as many people as possible, and had raised children he had infected to hate and resent humans. Releasing them on the public, a lot of people were killed, but many more survived to then live with the result. It's really unfortunate. Most were just people caught up between the fighting, not really a part of the war. Quite a few were Muggles at the time. A rather harsh introduction to the magical world, being infected with lycanthropy," he said sadly.
"I'll bet," Reamann said, looking at the sad eyes of the wolves in the cages. How could there be so many yet have no one standing up for their rights? How could there be so many people trying to hide there illness from others so as to not lose their jobs and friends, and not have someone take notice and flat out say it is wrong? It was an illness, and not one they got through any fault of their own. How could people discriminate over that?
"I'll be sure to give Mr. Malfoy that note of yours," the man said, holding out a clipboard with some parchment on it for Reamann to sign.
"Oh, oh yes. Thank you," he said, signing his name quickly. "Thank you," he said again, handing the quill back to the man.
"No problem," he said with a smile that made his fat face look like a stuffed-cheeked chipmunk.
"I didn't catch your name," he said, suddenly realizing he had not been introduced properly.
"Sapiens, Brevis Sapiens," he said, holding out his hand.
"Reamann Rossiter," he said, shaking the man's pudgy hand. The man already knew his name, it being on his tag and on the sheet he had to just signed, but still, courtesy demanded that he introduce himself properly.
"It was nice meeting you. I do not get many people cleared to come down here."
"Well, I can't really say I'll have much excuse to ever come back again, but we seem to have a mutual friend, so I'm sure we will hear about each other again," Reamann said, smiling.
"I'll be sure to get Malfoy your letter in the morning, once he is fed and dressed and not in the typical bad mood he is in the morning after," the man said with a smile of his own, his looking a little sad, however.
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Author's Note:
Werewolves are described by JKR as looking very similar to "true wolves" but are distinguishable physically by several small characteristics like their eyes, the length and shape of their snout, and their tails which are said to be "tufted." I took some liberties then on size, weight, and proportion since JKR does not get into any detail, which I think is a real shame. I go against canon with the fact that I said the werewolves in my fic are definitely NOT "true wolves" and how Reamann "could not look at [them] and understand how anyone would ever mistake them for true wolves. They clearly resembled them, but something about them was distinctly abnormal, wrong."
I gave them longer limbs than a "true wolf" and they have very full ruffs, something comparative to a lion's mane. The reason for this is because I believe that werewolves fight each other a lot and like the reason behind a male lion's mane, the thick ruff on the werewolf's neck and throat would protect them. The long limbs were my idea as a means of explaining how they can stand upright, how they are so much larger than a natural wolf, (without making them bulky) and how they are so fast. I made them thinner than a wolf would be, but with large ribcages…so in the end my werewolves look like furry greyhounds on steroids and fluffy tails.
http://www.elfpack.com/stuff/Werewolf_Draco.jpg
This link is of a drawing I did of Draco as a werewolf as I describe in this chapter. Please look at it. :)
The "Greater" and "Lesser-wolf" bit is something I actually barrowed from my own online books, Leave Me Here to Bleed and Leave Me Here to Die, so I naturally have permission to use it, but I'm still citing myself as a reference. XD
Draco and the pups are white. Isn't that just darling?
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