Howl into the Night

Published: Jan 14, 2025

Trigger warning: references to sexual assault, panic attacks, nightmares

Draco was wide awake. The house creaked. There were so many noises that he didn't know what they were. Every noise was something coming to get him... but they never did. It had been three nights of restlessness, endless worrying. He couldn't sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, he heard something or thought he heard something. He would wake back up. He was surviving on naps he took on Potter's couch downstairs during the day.

His daylight hours were spent with Potter, who walked him through his physical training exercises. At first, Draco could only limp around, but it still hurt to walk. Potter didn't let him slack, and he could now make it up and down the stairs without his help. But he had to rest after, and he always did in the den. Draco could hear and smell Potter there and knew he was safe. Potter swore he'd protect him, and Draco never doubted his truthfulness. Wizard's vows were important if the person meant it. Plus... Draco could smell that he wasn't lying.

Potter also made him put on healing balms on his wounds and scars. Werewolf-made wounds were impossible to fully heal, anyway. He hated looking in the mirror and seeing the scar across his face whenever he used the loo. Everyone would know that he wasn't a man anymore... not human. They'll know he's a werewolf. Some will know what he was to them, too. Could he stay cooped up in Potter's house forever?

Potter had to help him with putting the balm on some of the scars, though, as he couldn't reach his back on his own. It made him tense and scared when Potter did, but they needed to be healed. Draco was embarrassed by the marks on his back and neck, but after a few times, he trusted Potter more. Now, he shivered every time Potter massaged the bite scar on the back of his neck, though he couldn't explain precisely why. If Draco could explain it in words, it felt like Potter was leeching out Fenrir's claim on him. Unlike the rest of his body, he calmed down instantly whenever Potter rubbed his neck.

Potter never mentioned Draco's reactions to his massages, and Draco was grateful for that. Draco also noticed that Potter never mentioned anything about the weird werewolf habits that he had picked up. Draco never used to sniff everything, but his sense of smell was so heightened that he had to identify what things were. He was getting good at it, too. He could tell when Potter had entered the room or left. Draco could track him through the house. He could even tell when he met Granger and Weasley last night, though Potter had told him as much.

Draco didn't handle food very well at first, but Potter made him eat food and drink nutrient potions. After four weeks of near starvation and torture, his body was wrecked. As the pack bitch, the wolves tried to feed him the dregs of the beasts, like the organs and feet of their kill, but he refused usually. Some part of him knew it was the quickest way to get out of the hell he was in. Once Greyback left for the battle, he stopped listening to the others.

He wasn't sure if it was because Greyback was the one who turned him, or because he was the Alpha, but he had to obey him. He wasn't sure how to tell Potter about it or ask for books about it. Werewolf lore was not something he had bothered investigating before. Potter showed him the impressive collection of books in the Black Family Library, but he found no books on the subject, unsurprisingly. The Black family were just as pureblood as the Malfoys had been.

He wasn't a pureblood anymore. He wasn't sure that he knew how to live as not one. And, if he understood Potter, his family's assets were seized, and they weren't getting released anytime soon. With no money or status, he was effectively exiled from society... just like Lupin had been. He had no idea what he could do in this world, now. People talk. Death Eaters surely told their families about his punishment. He was an example for the Dark Lord. There was no hiding what he was now or what Greyback did.

He also didn't know how long Potter's generosity would last. Potter had mentioned his mother... and Blaise, but they hadn't talked about it further. Potter did not pry, other than how his body was healing. He constantly wanted to know if he was hurting, hungry or healing okay. Potter never trusted his words alone, either. He wanted to look at his scars every day and tried new healing potions to make them heal faster. Draco was touched that Potter seemed to care about him, more than anyone had before.

They didn't talk about that either. Potter didn't offer a reason for his concern. He seemed to want him to feel at ease. He just kept murmuring soft reassurances whenever he was working on his scars. He would always tell him what he was going to do and wait for him to say okay. Potter made his anxiety fade whenever he was around. Draco felt safe. When Potter was touching him, he felt safer than he had ever felt in his whole life.

Another creak snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at the door, expecting Greyback, Rayman, Scabior or another wolf or Death Eater to come in to take him back.

"You can never escape us," they whispered in his mind.

He shook and just wanted Potter. Potter made the bad things be quiet, and Draco missed his smell already. He looked at the door and wished Potter would come. His strong presence always made him feel safe enough to sleep.

"Please..." he begged to the whispers and cried. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but another creak made him nearly jump out of bed. He grabbed his pillow and went out into the hallway. He had to use the wall for support and made it to Potter's room. He was shaking and hesitant to knock, but he couldn't shake the waking nightmare. He knocked softly, hoping Potter wouldn't be too mad with him.

"Draco?" he heard before he heard Potter's footsteps on the floor.

He was already breathing easier when a shirtless, boxer-clad Potter opened the door, squinting without his glasses. Draco visibly relaxed as Potter's smell washed over him.

"Draco? What's wrong?" he asked, worried, but didn't step forward to claim the remaining space between them.

Draco appreciated that. He also didn't know what to say. It seemed childish, now. He could lie, but... he couldn't. "I'm sorry... I... can't sleep. I'm sorry... I... I...."

"Oh... it's okay," Potter said, not angry at all and paused. "Do you want... some potions?"

Sleeping potions were addictive and wouldn't help with what was wrong. "No... I just... the house... it's... I hear everything now." Draco blushed, averting his eyes.

Potter tilted his head, squinting still. "Oh... maybe... umm... Silencing Charms?"

Draco wasn't sure they'd work. He'd have to find everything that was making noise. He lowered his head and had to force himself to ask, "Can I sleep in here... with you?"

Potter's mouth dropped, but Draco wouldn't look up at his eyes. Potter wouldn't want him in his room. He had never been so embarrassed before in his life. Everything at the werewolf camp was about pain and power, but this... was different. Potter wasn't them.

"Umm... sure... can I ask... why?" Potter said, hesitantly.

Draco felt relief at first that he agreed, but he wasn't sure he wanted to give an explanation. Potter did ask him if he could ask why. He didn't demand it.

"W-When I heard things... people coming... they always came to hurt me. In the dungeon and then at the camp... I just keep imagining... them coming to... hurt me... and I can't sleep..." he whispered, more tears coming out.

"Oh Draco... I'm so sorry. Is that why you sleep so much during the day?" Potter said worriedly, and he just nodded. "Of course, you can stay with me, if it will help?"

Potter didn't sound so sure, and Draco had to say, "I... just know that... you'd stop them. You'd protect me."

Potter's mouth dropped, again, but he closed it. "I would. Thank you... for trusting me."

Draco nodded. "I can sleep on the floor... anything... I just...."

"Shh... you don't have to sleep on the floor. I have a king-size bed. We can both sleep in it easy, if that's okay?"

Draco risked looking up at him. "Is it really okay?"

Potter looked weird without his glasses, but he smiled, sincerely. "It's fine with me, though I should warn you that I get nightmares, too. So, sorry in advance. Come on, maybe we can get a few hours in before dawn."

Harry turned and went toward the right side of the bed and got in. He straightened and spread the blanket out to cover the other side. Draco didn't waste another minute and crawled into the covers. He didn't bother with his pillow and buried his face into one of Potter's. The smell was overwhelming and immediately soothed his nerves.

"I just changed them when we got here... the sheets... I mean," Potter muttered.

Draco hadn't realized that he was actively "sniffing" Potter's bedding. "Sorry... it's fine. It smells like you."

Potter said, "Huh." And thankfully, didn't say anything else.

Draco tried to control his need to smell everything, but it was so refreshing to bathe in his scent. It must be a werewolf thing. It took a shower for Draco to pick up on the subtle favors in Potter's smell that was all his, besides his lavender shampoo. He smirked at Potter's girly tastes. But Potter still retained that woodsy smell, despite a few showers. Draco finally placed the smell that he had been drawn to at the hospital. He remembered his home, where there was a rarely used guest room on the third floor with a cedar-paneled walk-in closet. Since the room and closet were never used, it was so soothing to just breathe in the sweet aroma of the cedar.

That was the subtle aroma Potter had. Sturdy and sure, with a hint of eucalyptus and chamomile tea. Draco wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but Potter's aura made him feel so calm and safe. It only took a minute of breathing in Potter's scent for him to slip off into a deep sleep.