Stellarlune

And I think that’s it, until he drops the bombshell.

“I’m an Animagus.”

I freeze. “Wh…what?” A flurry of emotions ripples through my body like a wave. Shock, disbelief. Relief. So much relief. A tinge of resentment for not telling me sooner.

An Animagus? Like me?

My head is awash with information, analyzing, assessing him in an entirely different light.

All the things he’s been saying, all those sleepless nights he claims to hate…. does he feel the pull, the aching, all consuming tug just as I do? To slink back into the shadows and be one with the night, with the earth and the scents of the trees and grass, to revel in the cool rushes of air on a chase; the thrill of hunting down a meal, of feeling free?

I want to tell him, ask him; the words are on the tip of my tongue, barely spilling over when I catch myself.

“Shit.”

Not well enough, apparently. The hissed curse has him finally piping up after his bombshell.

“Not what you expected, is it?” He huffs a laugh. “It’s out then. My big secret. Well, there you go.”

“It’s not actually…that bad you know.” My tentative words come out as a stuttering whisper. “There are worse things to be.”

“Sometimes, it’s like a curse. I hate it, how I can’t seem to stay away from it.” Its like a dam has been broken in him, and all the things hes ever wanted to say, but couldn’t come pouring out of him.

I fold my hands in my lap and settle back against the wall.

This is going to be one long hour.

“….I have flashes. Its almost like I split into two different personalities. My animagi mind, and mine, my human, conscious one. I have no control over what I do, who I meet, how much blood I spill. Its like a wave overtakes me and I drown in it until the sea spits me back onshore, away from the storm that is my Animagus. My instincts take over. I remember nothing.
I feel nothing. But its always the evidence that jars me.

Blood. All over my arms, my teeth, my hands, my feet. My skin is practically bathed in it, and I can taste the iron, pungent as it is. I don’t know what to do about it. Am I a murderer? Are these crimes mine if I don’t have any knowledge of their occurrence?

Theo is the only person who knows. “

“And now you, I suppose” He adds wryly.

A hum is the only response I give him. Its my turn to listen. I tilt my head slightly, eyes slowly fluttering with the effort to stay awake. I get accustomed to listening to his voice, sitting in a room with four stone walls to surround me and his soft words wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.

Draco


She doesn’t respond except for the occasional hums as I bare my heart to her. All my troubles, my fears, my deepest, darkest secrets, ones that I have never shared with anyone. She is so quiet that I wonder if she has fallen asleep.

And I want to be angry at her, I really do, and so my mind tries to think up reasons I should be.

But she hasn’t.

I know by the lilt and the unevenness of her breath, the angle of her shadow on the stone floor. The sun streams in through the small window behind her in bright yellow streaks, and although I can’t see her, I can see her.

Shes sitting with her legs folded up against each other, curled against the wall like a child. Her hair, voluminous and curly, tumbles around her shoulders, and I can paint a picture in my head of how she would be, if I ever met her in real life.

Animated, fiery and passionate, talkative to the point of annoying. Like a breath of fresh air to my cold, reserved personality.

I keep talking, and I realize that she has her finger curled around one, following its shape as I speak.

What I wouldn’t give to do that. My words stutter, and then slowly quieten, fading off into heavy silence.

Where had that thought come from?

Her finger slows, stops altogether, as if realizing. But she doesn’t speak. She raises a finger, then two, then three, then her whole hand, and I watch as she plays with the suns rays, drawing shadows on the ground.

A cat, a bunny, a flower, a bird…

And I realize that if there was a way to receive any of this, I would prefer this one. Her silence spoke to me in volumes what her words couldn’t.

She didn’t even try to comfort me, did she? I huff with the realization. She just…let me be.

And in my response, I scoot forward, raising my own hands to the sunlight.

My bird joins hers, and together, we watch the shadows take the shape of something other than our fears as they fly away in the afternoon sun.

Hermione

I jolt awake in bed, the sheets wrapped around my legs like vines and my pillow on the floor. He said Theo!

Theo as in Theodore Nott, as in the infamous Theodore Nott of Slytherin House.

As in he knew Theo personally, as a close confidant. As in he was most likely a Slytherin, and a good friend. Or even if not Slytherin, had a strong relationship with one.

My breath quickens in my chest, and my lungs rise and fall with what…anticipation? I don’t know if I’m ready to find out who he is yet.

I have so many questions to ask, its mind boggling. For Merlin’s sake, I don’t even know what form he takes yet. I don’t even know if I should tell him that I, of all people, would understand what it is like because I am one too.

An Animagus.

Would knowing his identity change my opinion of him?

I don’t know.

But it would make asking these questions a hell of a whole lot harder. So.

“Breathe, Hermione,” I tell myself, letting the world fade to black beneath my eyelids and taking a deep breath. Time doesn’t wait for anyone, but it also doesn’t run away.

I have time.

I will figure this out.

But in the meanwhile…. I look towards the high domed window on the far side of the room, opposite my bed. The white moon hangs, full and heavy among the stars, and I can see the golden glow of a hundred or so fireflies dance among the trees in the far distance.

A wolf howls, and my decision is made for me.

I whip the blankets off of me as silently as I can and tiptoe through the common room, past three boys collapsed on the common room couch. The fire burns as merrily as it would in the morning, and I thank the stars that its bright enough to see the dingy common room entrance. In dim light, my feet stumble across wayward socks, shoes, notebooks, and quills, sending them scattering across the rough stone with a pitched hiss.

Both my eyes and feet ache with the effort of not stepping on anything else.

Every few steps, I pause, waiting for the sounds of their snores to filter in through the silence to reassure myself that they are, fact sleeping.

I almost stop and turn around. But… no one would be awake at this hour. It gave me the perfect opportunity to make my way into the forest.

 I had to find that wolf again.

The Portrait of the Fat Lady pushed open with a creak. She opened one squinty eye and glanced at me in irritation. “It’s half past three at night, cupcake, could you be a dear and leave me be for six sane hours? The nerve of these children, I swear,”

I wince and mouth a halfhearted “sorry” as I scramble through the opening, breathing a relieved sigh. No one had woken up.

The hallways pass in a blur. Why the hell were the Gryffindor dormitories located on the seventh floor? My breath fogs in front of me, and my lungs burn from the effort of hurrying down seven floors.

My feet hurt, uncannily so, but I ignored all that. Its nearly four, and my time is running out.

I’m almost through the Quidditch pitch, my legs soaked in the morning dew of the long grass that I brushed past, when I round a tower and smash face first into a surprisingly hard chest.

“Ow!” I snort ungracefully and look up to find slitted grey eyes and a pursed mouth. My eyes must have widened, and I can practically feel my mouth fall wide open in slow motion as I jump back.

“Malfoy.” I sniff, trying to keep my composure and memories of last time’s encounter out of my head. This was definitely not drunk Malfoy.

There will be no wayward glances, no challenges. He must have forgotten it, even, what am I doing remembering that bullshit?

“What are you even doing here? It’s four in the morning; classes don’t start for another five hours.” Malfoy crosses his arms over his chest and his eyes narrow impossibly further. My eyes dart all over his face, to his arms and slender fingers and then back up again to his hair.
He’s still talking, and I’m just in time to catch the tail end of his sentence.

“…..after all decent folk are in bed?”

He really cuts quite a picture like that, against the sun, all tall and imposing.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing out here if all decent folk are in bed?” I watch his eyes roll at my snark, and his mouth opens to retort.

I cut him off before he gets the chance. “Nah uh, Malfoy, not this time. No bullshit about Quidditch. You don’t even have a broom with you much less any gear. Pun not intended.”

His eyebrows raise, settle. He scoffs. “Youre telling me off about what I should wear? Have you seen yourself? Barefoot, in…what even is this?” He gestures at my baggy shirt and night shorts with a condescending glare. “Do these even classify as clothes? This shirt is so wide even the neck is practically hanging off of you, and those shorts don’t even count, don’t even get me started on those, they..”

“And you really think you’re all that, don’t you, lecturing me about what I’m wearing, the nerve,” I cut him off with a snarl. “As it happens, I was heading out, kindly fuck off and leave me be.”

“As it happens,” He mimics me, and I honestly want to punch him so bad my hand aches. “, I was on my way out too, kindly fuck off yourself.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy, just because his Highness has decreed it.” I put my nose in the air and stomp off towards the Forbidden Forest, eager to leave him behind and far away from me.

I hear him scoff derisively, his voice already getting smaller and smaller, and I smile in satisfaction. And then I wonder why I’m getting so much satisfaction out of something as childish as walking away from a petty argument.

“For someone so smart, you can be awfully dimwitted at times.” His voice is sharp in my ear, and I yelp away from his startling presence back beside me.

“For Merlin’s sake, stop looming on me, you cloud-sniffing pillock! Its bloody annoying!” Snapping at him does nothing to calm the anger bubbling in my gut.

He's heading in the same direction, then.

And it intensifies when he keeps pace with me, a small grin, a curl of the lip really, lighting up his face like a bloody lightbulb. His shirt clings to his chest and shoulders, and I get even more annoyed for noticing that his collarbones are actually capable of cutting glass. 

“A cloud-sniffer, am I? Creative for someone who’s brains are as awfully small as she is.”

“Oh fuck off, tosser.” I roll my eyes and fasten my pace, striding ahead of him spitefully.

And out of the corner of my eye, I watch as an actual smile widens his lips and crinkles his eyes. He has laugh lines, I realize, laughing a little to myself. Ironic for someone who doesn’t use them an awful lot.

“Of all things, Granger, of all things.” All he has to do is lengthen his stride and he’s beside me again. “You really think you can beat me at walking?”

And so we bicker. And bicker and bicker until the hours pass and the sun rises in the sky.

I don’t even end up going to the Forest.

But I find I don’t really mind.