Aevumiter

30: Light

Draco grabbed the Aevumiter book, and sat down to read it while he waited for Harry and Sirius to finish talking. It was difficult to read with his thoughts so disorganized. He could hear Hermione and the Weasley boys complaining to Lupin and Mrs. Weasley about Umbridge.

Draco had chosen Harry. Harry's magic had chosen him. But what about Harry himself? What if Harry would be... Upset? Disappointed?

Draco had thought that his memories were simply due to his proximity to Harry. He wouldn't have ever thought that it was because Harry's magic had tied them together. Draco didn't know if he believed in soulmates. Did Harry?

Draco set the book down and walked over to a mirror. It was just a handheld size, the frame fancy and covered in dust. He blew it off, and looked into it. His eyes still looked the same. His face still looked like his own. His hair was a mess.

He combed his fingers through, trying to work out the tangles. He should take a shower soon. It might wash away the grime and sweat, but... It wouldn't ever wash away the scent of werewolf that marked what he was to others of his kind. His kind. It left a bad taste in his mouth just thinking it.

It was more than just a signal to other werewolves that he was one of them. Harry was his partner- and they would smell that too. Draco shuddered at the thought of Harry being harmed because of it.

What would his parents think? Would his father disown him? Would he try to hide his son's condition from the rest of the world? Would his mother still hold him? Would she look away in disgust?

Why did he still care what they thought?

No, he didn't care about what they thought. He didn't give a damn about his father. His father was an evil, greedy bastard to his core. But his mother was just trying to hold the 'family' together. In the end, she had chosen good. Even if it was only for him.

Would she choose the same again? Or would he lose both parents?

Was Harry even okay with Draco being a werewolf? So far it looked like Harry wasn't concerned, but... Maybe the truth hadn't sunk in yet. Maybe things would change. Maybe...

Draco pulled his shirt off and undid the bandages. The tooth mark wounds were closing, the new skin pale pink. The area felt like it was bruised when he touched it, but it didn't look it. It was foolish to think it wouldn't scar. Werewolf bites always scarred.

This time around it wasn't the Dark Mark branded on his forearm, but a werewolf bite on his shoulder. He would always be an outcast, no matter what time turning- travelling nonsense happened. He would always be pushed to darkness.

Harry was a light among all that darkness. Draco was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He always had been. At first he tried to reach for it. He used to be angry about it. The brightness had hurt him, it had threatened the perfect world he knew. Harry had thrown his light around, illuminating all the untruths and wrongs, and it had hurt Draco. It left him confused. He panicked, and he retaliated in the only way he knew.

And then the hat had sent Harry to Slytherin. And Harry had been angry, but it wasn't at him. He hadn't been angry at Draco, he hadn't wanted to fight. He was just shining. It wasn't throwing it in Draco's face, he wasn't trying to use it against him.

When his hand was injured, he had let Draco tend to it without protest, without complaint, without wariness. He had let someone who had recently been his enemy tend to him with complete trust. Draco had been beyond baffled. He couldn't understand how he felt then, having that trust placed in him.

Harry was good for Draco. And Draco was terrified that he- and his darkness- would smother that beautiful light.

Draco redressed his wound on his own, and pulled the borrowed shirt back on. He picked up the Aevumiter book, and tried to read.