Weasel and Stoat Part Four

Jan 05, 2007 19:14



When the students began to filter back, he went up to his room. He was too restless to study, the words jumped before his eyes. He turned into a stoat and explored his own room, then changed back and went for a hot shower. He came back to his room and wanked to visions of red hair and a pointed weasel face. He fell asleep on top of his duvet, and woke, chilled, at midnight to finally crawl under the warm bedding.

The next day was Sunday. It was hard work not to stare over at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. The redhead never looked in his direction. This annoyed Draco. The trio didn't show at lunch. Draco went through the motions of studying, choosing what to wear, watching the clock, planning. He was early at their rendezvous, and jumped when he heard the steps on the stone floor. A step he could already recognize. As soon as Weasley stopped before the statue, Draco stepped out from behind it and said, "I know where we can go to talk. Follow me."

They walked past the gargoyles which guarded the headmaster's office and down the corridor to the guest quarters. "This is where my father stayed, the last time he came to Hogwarts," Draco whispered. "They haven't changed the password since then. Darkness," he whispered. The door opened and he led the way in. The candles automatically lit as the door shut behind them.

It was a fine room. The furnishings were black, grey, cream and gold, elegant and understated. There was a huge high bed in the corner. Draco saw Weasley glance at it nervously.

"Are you afraid of that?" Draco asked, tilting his head towards the bed, taking a seat on one of the two big chairs facing the cold fire. He cast a warming charm on the room.

"It's crazy. I was just saying I wasn't attracted to men, and then you kissed me and…." The blue eyes reflected misery. It made Draco's stomach clench.

"But…would you?" Draco wanted to know. Needed to know.

"I…yeah. I would. Stupid as that seems to me, yeah." He looked at Draco directly and said, "Even though I know you'll hurt me, one way or another."

It was almost guaranteed that they would hurt each other. But Draco had lived his life ignoring things he didn't want to deal with. That was the future, and he was only interested in now. So he stood up, went to the bed, and pulled back the covers to reveal the white sheets. "Come to bed, Ronald."

"Ron. Just Ron," Weasley said stubbornly.

"Then, call me Draco," Draco insisted, meeting his eyes. He began, one handed, to unfasten the clasp of his own robe. He kept his eyes on Weasley, who was following his lead, although with some reluctance. The clothes were laid aside carefully until even their stockings were off.

Beautiful. Draco's mouth went dry. Did he really just think that about a Weasely? But look at the man. Look at those…shoulders. A waist that was both slim and yet substantial. Long, muscled legs and arms. The freckles covered his shoulders like a cloak, falling away over his torso and building up again on his legs. Healthy tufts of hair could be seen at his armpits and groin. A swirling lot of it on his chest trailed away down his abdomen, and bits of it glinted in the candlelight like copper wire.

It made him feel almost small and delicate beside that solid maleness. He seemed more naked, now that there was Weasley to see him that way. He wanted to touch, but Ron turned and crawled up onto the bed. The curve of his buttock, the long line of his leg, made Draco shiver. He followed, and they were soon settled under the covers, side by side.

Ron turned onto his side. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"No. Do you?"

"I watched, once, in the showers."

Draco was interested, "Watched what?"

"Watched…one boy. Suck somebody."

"We could do that." Draco dared to reach out and touch Ron's chest. His fingers trailed through the hair there, carding it. Petting it. "Is that what you want?"

"I want to…" The red that flushed his face came from below his neck. Draco touched there. The skin was hotter where the red was.

"You want to have me." Draco wanted it, too. "I don't…have anything." The other was well endowed. Draco shook at the thought of that bigness shoving into him.

"I don't think I could do that. Well. Yet." That confession was accompanied by another wave of red. Draco jumped as he felt a fumbling hand settle on his belly, then the slide of it down to his cock. Holding it. Like holding hands. He pushed into it. His own hands reached out.

"Oh. My big…weasel," Draco said, amused. Who would have suspected that Weasley hid something so substantial under his robes? It was growing under his fingers, the skin smooth and moist. He explored the size of it, the textures and features, learning what made it unique. Then Ron was turning, covering him, holding him down, thrusting against him. Draco gasped, shoved up into warmth and with only the help of their hands they almost instantly reached the peak and spilled against each other.

Draco pulled the cover over their heads, making a burrow of the heavy, down filled cloth. In the dark close space they kissed, lips sliding over the skin, shoulders to neck to arms to chest, coming back again and again to ravish the lips and mouth, then finding other points to plot. Chin. Jaw. Ear, and behind the ear. Neck. Then following the line down to the curve of the hard male breast. Weasley's big mouth fastened on the points of Malfoy's nipples, licking, worshiping, and then sliding down so that his long sharp nose dipped into the crevice between arm and body.

It made Draco laugh. Wiggle. Change. They transformed while still intertwined, morphing from human to animal, and then they were chasing each other through the tunnels human limbs had made in the bedclothes. Finally, Draco poked his head out and noted where the lump of Weasley-weasel was. He eased out, sprang up and came down hard on the lump under the covers.

Weasel scream. Fast weasel feet, and Ron-weasel had exploded out from under the covers after him. They chased each other over the soft velvet, leaping and making weasel-giggle chittering sounds. Leaping from the footboard, the headboard, the curtains, bouncing down on the bed like it was a trampoline, they played until they were exhausted. Then they changed back and dozed in the big bed, cold feet against each other's legs, Ron's big arm draped over him.

"I never thought you'd know what fun is," Ron murmured into his neck.

"Is that an insult? I never thought you'd be a good lover," Draco countered.

Ron tightened his arm and asked, "Was I good? Really? You know. I've never been with a man before and I don't have that much experience with women, either."

"Or a stoat?" Draco asked, smiling into the mass of red hair pressed against his chest. "And yes. You're good."

"You, too," Weasley whispered. Then he said, "They're going to wonder where we are."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"I dunno." He sounded quite worried.

"Tell them you were with an exotic, beautiful lover. You don't have to say my name."

"Like they'll believe that. And you don't know my friends. If I say something like that, they won't let up until they know. Hermione, especially." He turned over. "How will we…will we…could you stand to have everyone know?"

"That I have a boyfriend?" Draco asked.

"A Weasley boyfriend. I've heard your opinion about Weasleys." His voice was stilted. Careful.

"You heard my father's opinion. Coming out of my mouth. As required of me as my father's heir," he added. "Besides, anyone intelligent can change their mind. I have, several times."

"About He Who…?"

"Exactly. But be practical, Weasely. It's only been hours. We have to understand exactly what's going on before we tell people. Tomorrow you could hate me again. After all, it isn't me. It's a stoat you want." His voice was careful, also.

"No, it's more, now. More than my stoat. We…we can't divide it, can we?"

Draco felt his heart lurch. But he said was, "Don't be in a hurry to tell your friends. First we have to…become comfortable with it."

"Find out what it is, really." Weasley agreed.

"Precisely." Weasley was smarter than Draco had ever imagined. Just not overly articulate, apparently. They were silent together for a few more minutes.

"We have to go," Ron said at last, sitting up. Silently they climbed out of bed. Ron knew a bed-straightening charm. They dressed silently. Then Ron took a tentative step towards the door, even as he turned back to look over his shoulder. "Should we…be seen together?"

"We won't be," Draco told him. "You'll walk out of here. I won't be anywhere in sight."

"But…."

"I," Draco said, half explanation, half command, "will be under your robes, in my stoat form. You'll carry me. Against your skin, I think. I want to know what that feels like."

Weasley turned that color of red again. Draco flashed his sauciest grin, straightened his shoulder seam and then transformed. The stoat climbed up the robes as if Ron were a tree, and wiggled his way under the robes, and then under the jumper. Weasley moaned at the brush of soft fur against his skin. Draco gave a chittering stoat laugh back. He was exploring a bit as Ron cautiously looked out into the corridor, and then stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. Their progress down the hall was slow, because the stoat was shifting around, trying to find a position that held him in place and didn't cause him to lose his grip and slide down that smooth expanse of chest and ribs. Ron didn't seem to appreciate his claws. Finally, he anchored himself at the neck of Ron's jumper, his little snout poking out but hidden by the fall of red hair.

He was in that position as they were approaching the headmaster's door. He felt, against his body, the inhalation of Ron's breath as the door slid open and Professor McGonnagal stepped out.

"Ah! Uh…good morning, professor.. I mean, evening," Ron stammered. Draco rolled his stoat eyes and thought about biting him. Ron sounded so guilty and the old bat was sure to get suspicious. But she didn't. She murmured good evening in reply and turned and went the opposite direction from them.

Draco was paying no attention to her, though. He was frozen in place, wondering if his nose was working right. He took a deep breath as Ron walked past the open door. Now the door was closing.

Draco surged up, his mouth nipping Ron's ear. Ron muffled a screech and looked around wildly. McGonnagal was out of sight. Ron pulled the slim stoat out from his collar, turning his head away from the scrabbling feet as he gave the flailing stoat a toss towards the floor. Draco changed in mid air, hit the floor, scrambled up, looked behind him, and ran like his tail was on fire. Ron automatically ran after him.

"Draco! What's wrong?" he gasped as they hit the stairs, which swung them away at once, lifting towards the next level. Draco cursed, obviously wanting to go in the opposite direction.

"Snape! Have to see Snape!" Draco managed to say, dashing off as soon as the stairs touched down. He was running so fast he slid on the corners, his blond hair, combed into place only minutes ago, now in total disarray. Ron doggedly followed him to a new set of stairs, then down one, two, three flights to the dungeon. He caught up with Draco as the other was banging like mad on the door to Snape's office.

The door swung open. "I hope you have a…" was as far as Snape got before Draco pushed him aside, plunging in to the room. Ron went white and gulped audibly but followed him in.

"Something's wrong," Weasely said, breathlessly. "Draco! What is it?" he asked as Draco fell to his knees and began to vomit all over Snape's floor. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice going up to a paniced screech.

Draco coughed, spit and then managed to choke out one word.

"A…acromantula!"

Snape's wand vanished the mess on his floor even as his other hand grabbed Draco's collar and hauled him to his feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes black and glittering.

Draco looked wildly at Ron, who must have realized that Draco wanted to explain, but their secret got in the way. "It's okay," Ron said soothingly. "It's fine. Tell us!"

"The headmaster…his office! We were passing by when the door opened. It's…it stinks! It stinks of acromantula in there!" Draco cleared his throat and said, "I know what it is. What that smells like. From when we killed the little one," he explained, to Ron. "What if it's IN there?" He was shaking.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape began sternly, "if this nonsense is…."

Draco interrupted, "No, I smelled it! I was in my…my animagus form and I smelled it!" With that he turned into a stoat and leaped for Ron. Weasely caught him in his arms and held him close, crooning, "It's okay, sweetie, relax! I can feel your heart, it's like it's trying to beat its way out of your chest! It's okay!"

Draco transformed again, causing Weasley to stagger back against the wall. "It's not okay! It's not!" Then he switched back again, making pitiful stoatly cries against Ron's warm neck.

Snape was, for once, without words. He stared at Weasley, then at the stoat, then back at the young man. "Calming draught," he finally said. There was relief in his tone, as if he had gladly found the part of the disaster which could be addressed with potions. "Bring him this way," he ordered, and led them to his stock room. He quickly located a blue bottle, uncorked it, and demanded, "Become human, Malfoy!" Draco obeyed, one arm still around Weasley's neck, and their teacher poured the entire contents into his mouth. "Swallow that and sit down. Do not shift into the other form until that has a chance to get into your system."

They were back in the office. Snape pulled forth a chair, Ron eased Draco down onto it, standing behind him but leaning over a bit so that he still kept a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"How in the world did this disturbing event come to pass," Snape asked, gesturing towards them. He didn't seem upset when he wasn't answered. He watched Weasley awkwardly alternate between patting Malfoy on the shoulder and sliding his fingers into Draco's hair, soothingly, as if petting him.

When the draught seemed to have worked and Draco's breath had slowed, Snape said, "Now. Start again. Explain it all."

Weasley spoke first. "I was carrying Malfoy in his stoat form. We were passing the headmaster's door when it opened. Professor McGonnagal came out. Draco got a whiff of the air and went crazy. He bit me," he said, amazed, his free hand going to his ear. "Changed and went running down here like a mad thing."

Malfoy nodded. "It stinks in there. It smells…evil."

"And Minerva McGonagal came from there?" Snape questioned.

"She didn't ask us why we were there or anything," Ron realized slowly. "She didn't act like herself."

Snape was walking now, pacing back and forth in front of them. "Perhaps it explains…Dumbledore has been absent-minded and obscure recently, even for him. I must admit I was dismayed when I discovered he had given you permission to go down to the Chamber of Secrets. When I questioned him about it he was most annoyingly vague…but…acromantula? What could it…if there is one…perhaps…?"

He was plainly thinking out loud. Draco put up his hand and closed it, hard, around Ron’s, because the big hand was trembling.

"How could Dumbledore be...if there's an acromantula in there…." Ron gave a huge shudder. It was obvious he did not like spiders either.

"Acromantula venom is used in dark potions which compel," Snape said. "The question is, is someone using such a potion on our headmaster, or is there an actual giant spider in his rooms." Snape said it so calmly. "An investigation is in order."

"So is action. We have to get him out of there," Ron said firmly.

"So we do, but we'll have no Gryffindor heroics. Ot at least not yet. We have preparations to make. Weasely, I shall want you to go to your common room and inform Potter, Finnigan and Thomas that they have detention and they are expected immediately in the potions laboratory. Convince Granger to come along to argue their case. Mr. Malfoy, you will go the the Slytherins and inform Greengrass and Tole that I need them to clarify points in their last essay. Do not speak of this in the corridors. Then go fetch from Ravenclaw Crow and Amberstall, from Hufflepuff, Bones and Sorkay, telling them they are needed for a potions project. Go now. Time is of the essence."

Ron helped Draco up and they headed for the door even as Snape began gathering up books and vials. Once outside the door, Ron gave one last awkward pat on Draco's shoulder and then turned and hurried away. He didn't see Draco watch him for a moment before he headed in the opposite direction.

The students from the other houses were already there when Weasley herded in his Gryffindors, and Snape was speaking to them intently. As the Gryffindors entered, Snape waved them to benches and continued. "I shall need you to work in cooperation. Pretend you are adults. Try. We face the possibility that there is an acromantula in the castle. The intent of an acromantula, or the people behind it, can not be benign. I believe at least a portion of the staff has been compromised and can not help us. Trust none, as we don't know how many are affected. We have no idea how big the spider is or how entrenched it might be. Potter, you, Finnigan and Thomas will help me make a potion which will repel and damage arachnids. We will be making a Basilisk infusion, so you will work with gloves. Malfoy, you and Granger will be making a potion which dissolves webs. Greengrass and Tole will be preparing vessels for our potions and be distributing and preparing ingredients. I have sealed the doors. Don't leave without my express permission. I do not want the scent of our work in the corridors." His air of command, of competence, changed his entire demeanor. He looked like a leader, and surprisingly, he looked younger, too. Almost like a different man. Draco was trying to figure out if this was Snape's natural persona, or if he had put it on for the occasion. It was effective, at any rate. The students obeyed him without their usual muttering or any outward rancor.

"All of you will be doing some practice on shield charms and defensive forces." Snape went on.

"And Granger is going to show us her leg breaking spell," Draco added loudly.

Snape lifted an eyebrow, nodded, and began to hand out instruction papers. Then he waved towards the ingredient cabinets. The seventh year students were well trained at this point and could follow Snape's potion directions well. This work was nasty. He had the male Gryffindors slicing dried Basilisk into thin strips, mixing it with garlic oil and then adding distilled water. Then they had to beat the mixture with wisks. It smelled sour and toxic. He himself was doing something with Basilisk ribs, which were boiling in a huge cauldron.

At midnight they stopped long enough for a snack meal and coffee. By two, Granger had started a caldron boiling and began to add the ingredients for the base of their assigned potion. Malfoy had let her take charge of the potion. He knew that his obedience to her directions was unsettling to her. It was a little unsettling to him, as well. He tried to be intently focused on the potion, refusing to let his mind replay memories of what he and Weasley had done in that big guest bed just a few hours ago, or to the horror of having an acromantula in the castle.

It was almost dawn when they were finished. Snape cast protective spells and glamour spells that made it hard to see who they were and how many were in the group. Each student was armed with two spray dispensers except Snape, who had what Dean called, with some admiration, a flame thrower.

"I go first. I take care of the doors," Snape said. "The spiral staircase insures a group can not storm the room, you will have to come in one by one, it can not be helped. Malfoy and Weasley will locate Professor Dumbledore and any other person there, immobilze him if need be, as he might fight against us, and get him out the door. If the way is clear, take him to the hospital wing. Assume that he might not be himself, that he can not be trusted. Do not turn your back on him, and disarm him if he has a wand on him." He turned to the others. "The rest of us deal with the acromantulas. Yes, assume there are more than one. If we can, we will capture at least one creature. I wish to speak to the acromantula, but do not risk your lives to do so. Greengrass, Tole, Crow, Bones, you will not enter the headmaster's chamber. You will remain outside, one on the stairs guarding the way out, three out in the corridor, wands out. Prevent anyone from entering, but use no fatal curses. You may be going up against Professor McGonnagal and other teachers. Do your best. Don't hurt the weasels, which are animagus wizards on our side. Questions?"

There were none, except for Potter, who was going second and wanted to know more about Snape's approach to the inner door. When Snape had finished telling him, in terse words, the answers, the group left the dungeons. They advanced silently. It was odd to meet no one in the corridors, no one on the stairs. He could feel the tension as they stopped before the door.

Stape said loudly, "Sugar quills." The door did not open. Draco expected him to try more passwords, or blast it open. What he did was put one hand flat against the gargoyle and say, "If it is for the good of Hogwarts, you will open for me."

He took his hand away. They waited. There was a grinding noise, and the gargoyle stepped aside and the door opened. Everyone took a firm hold on their wands. Snape went in. Potter followed. The staircase seemed to be moving agonizingly slowly. The only other sound was the harsh breathing of the students.
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