The Silence of a Missing Wolf
Chapter 21: The Silence of a Missing Wolf
Draco Malfoy was not an impatient person.
He was used to things going his way.
Used to people responding when he wrote to them.
Used to being heard.
But Potter?
Potter hadn’t replied in five days.
Not once.
Not to Draco’s letters.
Not to Zabini’s.
Not to Nott’s.
Not even to Pansy’s.
And that was… unusual.
Very unusual.
Draco sat at his desk in Malfoy Manor, quill in hand, beginning a letter for the fifth time in two days.
Potter,
If you ignore this letter, I swear by Salazar himself I will drag you out of your relatives' house.
Reply. Immediately.
He set the quill down, jaw tight with frustration.
Beside him, Nott perched on the arm of the chair, grinning.
“Well? Still no word from your little wolf?”
Draco grimaced. “Shut it, Nott.”
Nott chuckled. “You’re worried, admit it.”
Draco scoffed. “If you’d written five letters and gotten nothing back, you’d be worried too.”
Nott raised a brow. “Or maybe your wolf’s just sulking because you didn’t spend Christmas with him.”
Draco turned to glare. “You seriously think he’d be that petty?”
Nott shrugged. “You said it yourself—he acts like a wolf. Pack animals hate being alone.”
Draco pressed his lips together.
He didn’t want to admit that the thought bothered him.
That he was wondering if Potter was really sitting alone in that house, maybe feeling shut out.
Maybe… lost.
“I’m sending one more letter,” Draco muttered.
Nott grinned. “Of course you are.”
Draco ignored him, grabbed the quill again, and wrote in sharp, focused strokes:
We’re worried about you, Potter. Answer already.
If you want to come, you can. My offer still stands.
He sealed the letter, stood, and called for his owl.
As she flew out into the night sky, Draco remained by the window, troubled.
Something felt… wrong.
He just didn’t know what yet.
____________________________________
The holidays were over.
The weeks had dragged on endlessly, and though Draco looked forward to returning to Hogwarts, a growing sense of unease had settled in his chest.
Potter hadn’t responded.
Not once.
Draco had tried to tell himself it didn’t mean anything.
That Potter was just being stubborn, that he was pouting.
Zabini and Nott had insisted he was sulking.
“He’s just brooding, Draco. Let him brood,” Zabini had said.
“Wait till you see him—you can lecture him then,” Nott had added.
Draco had forced himself to believe them.
He had mentally prepared to scold Potter the second he saw him.
But deep down…
He had looked forward to seeing the little wolf again.
And then—
Potter wasn’t there.
The station buzzed with students, voices, and goodbyes.
But there was no sign of Potter.
Draco frowned, scanning the crowd.
He couldn’t see him anywhere.
“Where is he?” Pansy murmured, looking around too.
“He’s probably one of the last to show,” Zabini said, though his tone lacked conviction.
Draco folded his arms, biting his lip.
It was… odd.
Very odd.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
He decided to wait. He’d just catch Potter on the train.
But when the train started moving…
And the corridors slowly emptied…
Potter’s compartment remained vacant.
Draco stood in the doorway, staring at the abandoned seats.
His stomach twisted.
“He’s not here,” Pansy said softly.
Nott gave him a questioning look. “Is that… normal?”
“No,” Draco replied, voice tight. “It’s not.”
Zabini crossed his arms. “Maybe he’s already at Hogwarts?”
But no one really believed that.
Not when Potter hadn’t answered a single letter.
Not when he hadn’t even shown up.
Something was wrong.
Draco could feel it.
And this time…
He couldn’t ignore it anymore.