When she stepped into the staff room, Lupin was sitting at his desk, looking even paler than usual, staring at a worn piece of parchment. He rose to greet her when he saw Malfoy.
"Ah, Malfoy. You've brought the potion? Thank you."
Malfoy handed it over without a word, and Lupin accepted it while keeping his gaze fixed on the old parchment. He struggled with the stopper and took a slow sip.
"Thank you very much. Without this, my symptoms would be considerably worse. Though it tastes so dreadful it's almost painful to swallow... Please pass my thanks along to Snape as well."
"Professor, are you a werewolf?"
Lupin hesitated, then looked up from the parchment. The pallor of his face became all the more pronounced.
"I suppose Snape told you."
"He didn't say so directly. He simply left enough clues."
"Yes... Snape never did care much for our kind."
Lupin nodded and drained the rest of the potion.
A werewolf. A human who transforms into a savage beast with every full moon.
Their condition was a kind of curse—incurable, irreversible—and a bite delivered in wolf form would pass the affliction on. In darker times, the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, who had served the Dark Lord, had been known to threaten wizarding families with the promise of biting their children in order to bend them to his will.
Naturally, the world's opinion of werewolves was the worst imaginable. Whatever a person's character in human form, the fact that they became a creature hostile to humanity with every full moon was enough to make people afraid. A potion had recently been developed to manage the symptoms, but prejudice does not yield so easily.
"How could a werewolf become a professor at Hogwarts?"
Malfoy did not particularly fear werewolves. She held them in mild contempt, perhaps—but she was being civil now only because her interlocutor was a professor, and one she had grudgingly come to respect.
Lupin seemed to read the sentiment beneath her words. He gave a wry smile.
"Thanks to Professor Dumbledore. He took my circumstances into account and judged that, with the newly developed potion, I posed no danger. And fortunately, we have a Potions master on hand."
"You mean Professor Snape."
And yet that same Snape had seemed rather eager to let the truth about Lupin slip. There was clearly more to it than simply exposing a werewolf—some other reason entirely.
"Professor Snape believes Professor Lupin is in league with Sirius Black. And he wants to expose you and have you removed."
"But you know that Sirius can transform into a dog, Miss Malfoy—which means you also know that suspicion is a misunderstanding."
So he had already made contact with Sirius and exchanged information. Malfoy gave a quiet nod.
"It's not unreasonable that he suspects me. Sirius and I were friends during our time at Hogwarts. But it is a misunderstanding. I have not been in contact with Sirius. Not until recently, at any rate."
"Professor Lupin was friends with Sirius Black?"
"That's right. James, Sirius, myself, and Peter Pettigrew. The four of us were friends like no others—no one knew each other as well as we knew ourselves..."
His gaze drifted briefly to the worn parchment on the desk. It appeared to be some kind of map of Hogwarts, though from where Malfoy stood she couldn't make it out clearly.
Lupin had been glancing at it repeatedly, as though it nagged at him. Now he pulled his eyes away and looked at her.
"But with James dead and Sirius under a binding, I am the only one left who can speak to what Peter truly is. So, Malfoy—if you intend to reveal my secret, I ask only that you wait until Peter Pettigrew has been caught. There is no one else who can expose him."
"Why not? You could simply tell someone else what you know."
"Malfoy. The truth is, you're the strange one for believing any of this. Sirius Black is innocent, and the real culprit was Peter Pettigrew all along? After fourteen years of being told otherwise, most people would find that very difficult to accept. And when the very witnesses who could testify are bound by a binding—well, only someone who knew Sirius and Peter as well as I did could hope to make anyone believe it."
In other words, the number of people who knew Sirius was innocent was vanishingly small. Malfoy was one of them.
For a moment she felt a flicker of superiority at being among that select few—but what came next left her genuinely stunned.
"And how would someone under a binding ever explain that Peter is an Animagus who can transform into a rat?"
"An Animagus who turns into a rat?"
The image of Ron Weasley's rat trap surfaced in her mind. Ron had been searching for his pet rat. From what she'd heard, Harry Potter and Hermione had been doing the same.
She had been thinking, idly, that if Ron was going to go to all that trouble, he might as well be hunting an Animagus instead. And then a hypothesis took shape.
What if Harry Potter's reason for searching for the rat had nothing to do with Ron Weasley at all?
"James and Sirius knew I was a werewolf and chose to remain my friends regardless. They went a step further and decided to all become Animagi themselves. Partly because a werewolf only attacks humans—but if I'm being honest, there was probably a touch of wanting to show off as well. In any case, after roughly three years of effort, they all succeeded. James became a stag, Sirius a dog, and Peter—a brown rat."
Animagi and a werewolf. A black dog and a pet rat.
A rat that had lived far beyond any normal lifespan, passed down through generations of the Weasley family.
Surely not.
However wretched a person might be, could anyone truly endure more than a decade of living as a rat? Malfoy was deeply skeptical. Someone with as strong a sense of self as she had would never last. But if the person in question were cowardly enough, desperate enough to cling to life in any form, no matter how degrading...
"Peter Pettigrew."
Malfoy spoke the name aloud.
"What Harry Potter has been searching for... it wasn't a rat at all. It was Peter Pettigrew. Weasley's pet. Of course. That's why."
"Yes... wait. You didn't know until now?"
Lupin knew that Malfoy was aware of his being a werewolf. She also knew that Sirius Black was an Animagus and no traitor. She possessed far too much information for it to be coincidental. He had simply assumed she knew about Peter Pettigrew as well—and now he scrambled to adjust his expression.
"Harry didn't tell you?"
"I see. So going forward, Peter Pettigrew needs to be caught..."
He had threatened her with the diary and demanded her cooperation. And then, the moment she had stepped forward to help, he had pushed her away—invoking her family, of all things, as the reason.
It was utterly, utterly incomprehensible.
Malfoy muttered darkly.
"He pushed me aside for something as trivial as this."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I was careless. I've said something I shouldn't have."
Lupin moved quickly to defend Harry.
"Peter is a traitor. He will use any means necessary to preserve his own life—which makes him more dangerous than a Death Eater. Malfoy, if you were to expose yourself carelessly, Peter might try to use you as a hostage. Harry was probably being cautious because—"
"Then what about Granger?"
Lupin blinked, looking momentarily lost.
"Pardon? Granger?"
"Why did he bring Granger along? I hardly think he decided she could be put in danger without consequence."
A single sentence, and the logic collapsed. With those words, Lupin was forced to abandon most of the defence he had been constructing on Harry's behalf.
He needed to think of a reason why one person was acceptable and another was not—but Remus Lupin, werewolf and lifelong bachelor, had no experience with this particular variety of situation and found himself entirely without recourse.
"Because Granger is clever? Because Granger isn't cooperating under duress? Or because Granger's parents are Muggles, so she's more trustworthy?"
"Miss Malfoy?"
There are things a person encounters for the first time that trigger an instinctive, primal fear. This particular species of anger was so utterly foreign to Remus Lupin that all he could do was hold his breath and stand very still.
"Why? Why tell me to stay out of it, and then ask everyone else for help? I'm also—I study hard, and it's not as though I'm only helping because of a threat, and I went against my own family's wishes, I made up my mind, I came forward—"
The voice broke between phrases—a turbulence of emotion. Her feelings surged and receded, turned cold and then hot, creating a kind of vertigo. Malfoy's breathing had grown ragged.
As far as Lupin could see, there was no good answer to give.
"You're right. All of that is Harry's fault. I'll give him a proper talking-to. So please, calm down first."
But the moment the words left his mouth, Malfoy was already storming out of the staff room. With the full moon so close, Lupin was in no condition to stop her.
Professor Lupin could only hope Harry would handle it wisely. He picked up the Marauder's Map and began searching for Scabbers.
Malfoy walked without direction after leaving the staff room. She had no destination in mind—only the force of her indignation and fury propelling her forward. Uncontrolled emotion ran riot.
'What cooperation. He tells me nothing that matters.'
She had warned him about Sirius Black. Because Harry Potter's life might be in danger.
She had gathered information from Lucius and Snape—both former Death Eaters—and passed it on to Harry Potter, playing the role of spy. Not that it had amounted to much.
Malfoy had been loyal to Harry Potter, however limited her abilities. She had done all of that. And yet.
Blackmail? Cooperation?
Did Harry Potter truly believe that Malfoy was helping him for the sake of a single threat?
'I'm done with all of it. Go and die somewhere, the lot of you.'
He had watched her stumble around in ignorance, telling her nothing.
She had reached out her hand and he had knocked it away.
He had pushed her aside, invoking her family as justification.
Malfoy stalked down the corridor, fuming. She had no particular thought in mind—she simply wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. She was walking without direction when—
Harry Potter passed by on the other side.
In an instant, heat flooded to the top of her head. Malfoy strode forward with every intention of grabbing him by the collar and demanding answers.
She turned the corner where Harry had disappeared and caught a glimpse of the back of his head descending the stairs below. She wanted to call out to him then and there, but that would draw attention. Swallowing her fury, Malfoy descended the stairs at something close to a run.
On the ground floor, she spotted Harry Potter with Hermione Granger. Malfoy went straight for him. Harry sensed her approach and turned.
"Malfoy?"
"You."
Malfoy didn't bother catching her breath.
"Just—just to catch Peter Pettigrew—that's why you told me to stay out of it?"
Harry's eyes went wide.
"Who told you that?"
"Does that matter right now?!"
She cut him off and pressed on.
"What is it, exactly? You said you couldn't tell anyone else? A criminal and a werewolf—just the two of you, going after a rat? In all of Hogwarts? How many bodies do you think you have?"
Harry glanced briefly at Hermione. In truth, they had been conducting their search with two sets of themselves at the same moment through a certain method—but this was not the time to bring that up.
Cornered, Harry avoided Malfoy's gaze.
"Peter Pettigrew is a traitor who'll drag anyone into danger to save his own skin. If you got involved, you could be at risk."
"Ah. So that's why you take Granger everywhere."
Harry's mouth snapped shut.
What was written on Malfoy's flushed face was hurt and jealousy—only she was too dishonest with herself to recognise it as such, so it came out looking like rage.
Having read her emotions well enough, Harry found himself in a genuinely difficult position. He had pushed her away and then been found with Hermione—there was no defence to be made.
But it was a pleasant kind of difficulty. Had he not been told not to smile, he would have been grinning broadly at this very moment.
"What—Granger can be put in danger? Or Granger is more trustworthy than me? Because she's not being blackmailed? Because she's helping you of her own free will?"
She poured out everything, and then, from the very bottom of the well of her heart, the truth surfaced quietly. Malfoy looked up at Harry with something almost like desperation.
"Did you actually think I was only on your side because of a threat?"
Malfoy had, of course, been threatened. The diary was in his hands; cooperate with him for the sake of her family, or else. Harry Potter had pressed her hard.
But in the end, it was Malfoy who had nodded. After sufficient deliberation, Malfoy had accepted Harry Potter's proposal.
Her acceptance had been the product of both rational calculation and something less rational.
Malfoy knew, with her head, that it was better if the Dark Lord did not return.
And with her heart—she knew that it was better if Harry Potter remained alive than the Dark Lord.
Malfoy seized Harry by the front of his robes and shouted.
"Don't flatter yourself! I ran my own calculations. My judgment, my decision! And you treat me—treat my resolve—as something disposable? Something to be set aside for a thing as small as this?"
She had grumbled, but she had never wished him dead. She had tried to help, had offered counsel.
Malfoy had genuinely thought of herself as being on his side. And yet.
He told her nothing. Asked nothing of her.
She felt more worthless than she ever had—as though she had ceased to matter to the world entirely.
Harry Potter understood what she was feeling, and found he had no defence to offer. At a loss for words, he shot Hermione Granger a desperate look.
Hermione, who had been watching with an expression of keen interest, looked distinctly reluctant to intervene. But the obligations of friendship apparently left her no choice. She sighed and stepped forward.
"Malfoy, calm down. You're too worked up."
Hermione spoke while carefully avoiding Malfoy's gaze.
"We had reasons we couldn't explain. I have something that could help Harry, and it has to stay secret."
"I wasn't asking about your secrets!"
'I know,' Hermione thought, with a small inward sigh, and pressed on.
"You need to try to understand Harry's position. What he's dealing with right now. He's under a lot of pressure—"
"Right. And you can understand that, can you? Because you both grew up in Muggle households?"
"Malfoy!"
She knew Malfoy was overwrought, but the words were getting worse. Hermione raised her voice.
It only made things worse.
"Stay out of this, you filthy—!"
Mudblood. A word she had used once in first year and never again since.
But Malfoy was too far gone. To express how wretched she felt, to make both of them understand—there was no insult that would cut deeper.
They would be furious. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger—both of them. They would be furious, just as they had been in first year.
She knew she would regret it. She knew, and she was going to say it anyway.
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy."
If something hadn't stopped her mouth.
Harry Potter stopped it for her. He pressed so firmly that not even breath could escape.
Her breath, her air, her words—all of it swallowed by Harry Potter's mouth. Malfoy had no choice but to be silent.
Not for any other reason. Simply because Harry Potter had stopped her.
Hermione Granger stood with both hands pressed over her own mouth, eyes wide, watching. Malfoy was aware of this, and still she could not resist—could not pull away.
At some point their lips separated. Harry Potter wet his lips with his tongue and spoke.
"I warned you often enough in first year. I said I could let other things go, but not that word."
Her head was spinning. The hot fury she had been about to expel felt as though it had turned around and flooded back into her body.
Malfoy stood there, unable to respond, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
"I—that—wasn't—"
"You can insult me. You can tell me not to smile. You can want to hurt me—you have every right to. But."
Harry touched her hair briefly, then let it go.
"Don't work so hard at diminishing yourself. Do it again and I'll make you look even more adorable than you do right now."
Malfoy stood in a daze, still lost.
The last time had been a mere brush of lips. This had been too long, too deliberate to call sudden. Malfoy felt her thoughts come apart at the seams and could only manage a faint, helpless sound.
What is entirely unfamiliar can inspire something close to fear. That was exactly where Malfoy found herself now.
"I misjudged you. I should have realised you were far less honest with yourself than I thought."
Harry raised both hands and took a step back. He still wasn't smiling, but his voice was very gentle as he made his offer.
"Go and rest today. I'll explain everything tomorrow."
She felt as though she were floating. Malfoy had no idea how she made it back to the Slytherin dormitory. Not until she drifted down the stairs and fell face-first onto her bed.
She hadn't managed a single word. She only touched her lips.
"Harry!"
Lupin came running, his face ashen. The Marauder's Map was in one hand, his wand gripped tightly in the other. He forced out the words between laboured breaths.
"Peter Pettigrew has appeared. He's heading outside the school—with Ron! We have to go after them now!"