(Earlier that day)

Draco leaned his weight against the fireplace mantle and took a shaky breath.

Potter was long gone when he finally went upstairs to his room. He fully intended to lay down and try to rest, but he found himself walking over to the balcony doors, unlatching them and pushing them open, shivering as the cold air rolled over him.

The sun had set hours ago, but the lights from the castle cast a glow onto the grounds below like a candle, made even brighter by the snow falling in puffs of white that settled onto Draco's shoulders and hair.

Draco stepped out to the bannister wall, his socks growing wet, his sore feet at first soothed and then stinging from the cold. He didn't notice. All he saw was the edges of the forest and the long curve of Black lake. The uneasy restlessness that had been creeping under his skin the for last two days suddenly flooded through him, filling him like a tidal wave, and he finally understood it. It was being cooped up inside because of a storm that would not ease, it was being bedbound to let a potion finish healing a broken arm, it was the need to get out, to run until the air burned in his throat, to be free.

Draco felt a prickle start between his shoulders and spread down his arms, heat following in its wake. Slowly, slowly, it moved without burning, without the mixture of fear and aggression he felt when he met Fleur. The prickle grew stronger, into a pulse, into a thrum of heat that moved with his heartbeat. An uncomfortable feeling of things being pulled and stretched that were never meant to be stretched, a feeling he remembered acutely from being turned into a ferret, and the terror that followed from being pummelled against the ground like a ragdoll.

He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't look, he didn't want to see it. He tried to grab the edge of the bannister with hands that could not grip or grab and were too long and- Draco leaned over the stone, his stomach heaving violently and emptying itself of his dinner. He gasped weakly and spat to try and rid himself of the taste in his mouth. He could hear fabric tearing like tissue paper as his shirt ripped, and his arms were exposed to the open air.

The thrumming furnace of heat and magic that was filling him almost reminded him of the first time he held his wand and his magic seemed to pour out of him in a rain sparks. Vaguely comforting, vaguely horrifying, that this was his magic, that it was always like this, always meant to betray him like this. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, so the tears couldn't escape, so he saw spots of light dancing behind his eyes until the thrumming heat ebbed and all that was left was the snow soaking into his clothing.

Draco opened his eyes. There was- he reached up to touch his face but where his thumb used to be was a talon black as ink, the light from inside caught the curve of it as it came to a needlelike point. The rest of his fingers were- he spread them and saw the thin skin stretched between delicate-looking bones that were longer than he could make his mind understand. His stomach roiled, and he looked away, down at his feet. His socks had been torn to ribbons. His feet were talons like an owl's, each black claw as long as a knife.

Draco lifted his thumb, what used to be his thumb, and hooked it over the smooth hard thing on his face, the curve of it, familiar and sharp as every other point on his body. He opened his mouth, the beak of a thing on him, his stomach twisting inside him and coming up empty. He no longer had lips to spit the bile from his mouth. He no longer had the right tongue to taste it.

Like a lion that kills people, the veela had said.

A bitter wind went past, and Draco shivered. He felt it and raised his arms, spreading his hands. The wind filled the horrible wing-like things, and the feeling caught in his throat.

His mind numb, he carefully hooked his thumb on the top of the bannister and pulled a leg up, then another, wobbling as he stood on the thin line of stone. Draco spread his wings, twisting them as the wind caught them, feeling the faint lift with every rising arc of cold air. He pushed the air back, testing the feeling against his skin, the muscles in his chest, grown massive in order to lift his body, flexed and moved, feeling strange under his skin. Wings. He gripped the stone with his feet, feeling it scrape against his talons, as he lowered himself, the muscles in his legs tensing.

He wasn't thinking. He couldn't have made himself think. He didn't want to try. There was something certain in his mind, a guiding certainty. It was restless, and it wanted to leave this place.

Draco jumped.

He beat his wings at the height of his jump, every angle of his wings caused him to shift in the air, lurching and wobbling as he flew, gasping at the new and unfamiliar exertion. He alternated between gliding and flapping to gain height, feeling more confident as he went, learning how to shift his weight and his wings to turn. Until he felt confident enough to look around.

To look at the shadows of the towers and turrets, his own shadow chasing behind. The faint flickers of torchlight. The edges of the forest becoming more defined as he got closer. The snow swirling all around him. He flew without thinking, without effort, sinking entirely into the moment. He let himself feel the wind though it stung against his skin. He let himself feel the simple joy of flying. And the more bone-deep joy of being good at something, instinctively good. A talent he didn't have to struggle after for months and years and still never succeed at.

He flew out away from the castle, following the shore of the lake, his reflection on the dark water nothing more than a pale shape. His muscles began to ache. Draco wheeled around, cutting a tight circle and headed back toward the school. The ache became a burn. Every downbeat of his wings got harder, and he drifted a little closer to the ground.

Draco felt the first prickle of fear. He wasn't sure how much strength he had left, so he held his wings out, gliding down towards the ground, coming down too fast. Just as the ground was close enough to scare him, Draco beat his wings down as hard as he could, pulling his legs underneath him to try and land on his feet rather than his face. He slammed into the ground and pitched forward onto his chest, sliding across a wet layer of snow.

Draco dropped his cheek to the ground, panting great clouds of steam into the air. He could feel tremors running across his skin. He didn't know how much of it was exhaustion and how much of it was cold. He pulled up one wing, digging his thumb claw into the snow and ground, trying to pull himself up. He almost managed to drag himself up onto his knees before his shaking wing gave out and he collapsed again.

The snow was falling faster. Heavier. In great white clumps that seemed to absorb all sound except a faint staticy hum as they fell.

Draco couldn't know how to change back. He couldn't remember how he had done it after Fleur left. What if he couldn't? What if he was stuck like this...

Draco curled his arms up over his head, his wings covering his head. His eyes ached on the edge of tears.

He was a monster.

A monster a monster a monster-

He stiffened as a prickle of warning that someone was close went of up his spine. Draco pulled his wings back, a startled snarling hiss coming out of him as he scrambled to push himself up again before he even saw who was approaching.

With the crunch of boots through the snow came a deep and familiar voice, it's tone surprisingly gentle, "Now now, calm yerself. I ain't goin' to hurt yeh."

-

Hagrid knelt down beside Draco though he still loomed over him, "Can yeh stand?"

Draco shook his head.

"Right then. Firs' off, let's get yeh somewhere warm." Hagrid helped Draco sit up, "Put yer fingers together an' tuck your hands up. I'm goin' to pick yeh up, alright?"

Draco silently did as he was told, pressing his wings up to his chest. At least he wouldn't freeze to death.

Hagrid picked Draco up as if he weighed nothing, pulling his heavy jacket around Draco blocking most of the chill. The fabric smelled earthy and was coarse and itchy against his skin.

"Saw yeh flyin' up there. 'Bout had a heart attack when yeh first jumped, but yeh got the hang o' it right quick," Hagrid said, "A right treat to see a veela flyin'. Rare thing that."

Draco shuddered and carefully hooked the edge of Hagrid's coat with his claw to pull it tighter to himself.

There was a creak as a door was pulled open and the warmth of a fire washed over them, "Hope my cabin's alright, got rebuilt after the war, nice an' neat," Hagrid said, "An' I figured yeh wouldn't want ter be goin' back to the castle jus' yet."

Draco wanted to agree, but the only sound that came out of him was a sad rusty croak that would have better suited a crow.

"Here, let's get yeh settled by the fire," Hagrid said, pulling a massive armchair closer to the fireplace with one hand before settling Draco back into it. A moment later, a blanket was dropped around Draco's shoulders. "I'll get some tea goin'."

Draco watched Hagrid add a few more logs to the fire and filling a soot-stained copper kettle on a hook over the fire. Collecting two mugs, the smaller of which was as big as a soup bowl and putting them on the table.

"Yeh can change back; if yeh can o'course. I've heard it can be dangerous if yeh don' have the strength fer it," Hagrid said, patting his jacket's many pockets until he found a rather battered tin of loose tea.

Draco made another sad croak, carefully pulling his legs up and wrapping his wings around his knees.

Hagrid was quiet for a long time, "Did seem ter me it was yer firs' time flyin'. Might be it was yer firs' time changin' too?"

Draco nodded.

"Yeh flew on yer own? That far up?" Hagrid said in dismay, a scoop of tea leaves falling onto the floor as he stared at Draco.

Draco nodded dejectedly.

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows rose up into his hair.

Draco ducked his head down behind his wings, pulling his legs tighter to his chest.

"Well, that's... well, suppose it's good everythin' turned out alright..." Hagrid said slowly. He got a fresh scoop of tea leaves and dumped them into a fine mesh strainer that was standing in for a tea diffuser.

Draco could already feel the subtle thrum of magic under his skin. Part of him wished he would stay a monster because Draco was sure Hagrid's kindness would dry up once he realised who he was helping.

"I'd heard veela had wings on their back, o'course that'd difficult fer actual flyin'. Got to have the muscles fer it," Hagrid patted his chest, "wings on the back, well, the arms'd get in the way, unless yeh were flappin both at the same time..." he chuckled, "yeh could get around it with more magic, same as thestrals and dragons. Yer prolly using some anyhap, yer legs would unbalance yeh otherwise."

Draco could feel his beak starting to disappear and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see it. He felt faintly sick again and desperately wished he could just be back in his bed, all of this only a nightmare he could wake up from.

The floor creaked as Hagrid got up and moved around getting- there was the sound of bottles or some sort of glass before he came back to the fire and stopped in his tracks.

Draco pressed his cheek into his shoulder.

"That's a surprise an' a half, in't it?" Hagrid said quietly, "Yeh always did have the colourin' fer it. Must run in the family, eh?"

"Not officially," Draco said hoarsely.

"Sounds abou' right," Hagrid said, filling the two cups with hot water, "Would've thought yer mum'd be here keepin' an eye on yeh."

"Father was banished. The terms of my probation say I can't leave the uk. She made a choice," Draco said quietly.

"You was goin' to school-"

"I told her what was happening to me and she stayed," Draco said.

"Did yeh ask her to come?" Hagrid asked.

"No," Draco muttered.

"There yeh have it," Hagrid said, "Can't go decidin' things fer other people."

Draco disagreed, but he kept the thought to himself.

"While the tea's brewin' yeh mind if I take a look at yer wings and feet a smidge?" Hagrid asked, "I don't mean to be to be presumptuous, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't ask."

Draco shrugged the blanket off his shoulders and scooted forward in the chair, uncurling a wing and holding it out. In the firelight, the skin stretched between his fingers looked thin and pale as paper.

"Yer sure?" Hagrid asked.

"You're probably the only one who would ever want to see them," Draco said.

"That ain't true," Hagrid said, stepping closer, "How far can yeh stretch 'er out?"

Draco obligingly stretching his fingers, the edge of his wing brushing the far corner of the table. He jerked away from the feeling, it was strangely disturbing to touch something with his fingertips that was halfway across the room.

Hagrid let out a low whistle, "Fingers prolly twice the length o' yer arm... look fragile as anything, but I'd put money on them bein' tough. Bird's 'n bats both have thin light bones, but they're real dense, nothin' can top 'em. Add in some magic an it'd take some real work to cause any harm to yeh."

Draco stared at his wing, shifting it absently. There was another panel of skin stretching from his pinky down to his hip, big enough to be a wing in its own right. It also ruined his shirt, tearing the seams down his sides, so he was only still wearing it by the collar and the bottom hem that wasn't split.

"Them talons look wicked sharp..." Hagrid said.

Draco pulled his wing back in, looking down at his feet, his claws twitching and flexing almost instinctively at being mentioned. They looked even blacker than they had outside, they seemed to drink the firelight and leave a void of darkness in the shape of a claw, there were pale scales on his feet that began to scatter and fade above his ankle.

"Have yeh ever seen a hawk as she dives? Thing o' beauty it is. Didja know it's the impact that kills 'em most o' the time, 'couse if it doesn't the talons'll finish the job," Hagrid said.

"I know... They're for killing," Draco whispered, horror edging into his voice, "It's all made for killing. I- I-I-"

"Yeh didn't kill anything tonight when yeh were flyin' around did yeh?" Hagrid said.

"No...but-"

"But nothin'," Hagrid interrupted him, "Yer not an animal. Just a wee bit different..." he went back to the table, lifting out the tea leaves and adding spoon after spoon of sugar. He grabbed a bottle of cream, popping off the cap and pouring half the bottle in the smaller cup, "Yeh know what they say abou' giants, don't yeh? Them bein' violent an' stupid an' good fer nothin'."

Draco watched him with wide eyes.

"I ain't none of those, an' that ain't luck. I have a temper, it were especially bad when I was young, an' after my dad died, but I never hurt nobody. At least, nobody that didn' deserve it. I was careful to keep my anger to myself and now I mostly don't have any problems with it..." Hagrid paused, stirring the tea, "... 'Never be ashamed' my dad always said... There are those that'll hate no matter what we do. So we have to live fer those who're good enough to see us fer who we are."

"Right, then," Hagrid said, walking over with the cup of tea nestled in the palm of his hand like a coin, "Yeh'll have to change yer hands back."

"I don't... I don't know how," Draco said, "It just... happens."

"When'd this all start?" Hagrid asked.

"I-when school started... I might have had a fever before then-"

"When'd yeh firs' change?" Hagrid asked, "as yeh are now."

"...A month ago? But that was just my hands, and they didn't turn into wings, they- they looked like my feet do," Draco said.

"So yer fledging," Hagrid said.

"I'm- I- What?" Draco said, blinking in confusion.

Hagrid nodded, "When a wee chick or hippogriff or thestral gets big 'nough they start gettin' restless, antsy like, and eventually give flyin' a go. Can't leave the nest without it. Course it doesn't always work the firs' time around, most times even, but with enough practise they get the hang of it."

"...I'm fledging?" Draco repeated.

Hagrid nodded without hesitation, "No point beatin' yerself up over it, yeh've hardly started. Put in a bit of practise an' yeh'll figure it out in no time."

"...practise..."

"I know yeh can do it, jus' focus yer mind on what yeh want 'em to be. Take a few deep breaths, get a feel fer it," Hagrid said.

Draco took a deep breath holding his wings in front of himself. He imagined them as his hands. He tried to call up that pulsing, thrumming feeling. He was about to give up when he felt it, between his shoulders racing down his arms, moving faster than before, his hands shrinking and pulling, turning back so quickly it left an ache in his joints. He carefully flexed his hands, feeling his fingertips press into his palms before reaching out to take the tea.

"Thank you," Draco said politely, focusing to make sure he didn't spill, the soup bowl of tea was a great deal heavier than he expected.

"Take 'er easy, I'd wager yeh used a might bit more energy than yer used to," Hagrid said.

Draco nodded and took a careful sip of tea, it had been brewed dark and strong, but any bitterness it might have had was beaten into submission by a copious amount of sugar and cream.

"I figured the cream an' sugar would do yeh good, get yer strength back," Hagrid said.

Draco took a few gulps of the tea, shivering in relief at the warmth and sweetness. Hagrid went back to the table to fix his own cup of tea. Draco settled back into the chairs cushions, the faint shaky light-headed feeling easing as he drank more of the tea.

Hagrid pulled a chair around from the kitchen table and sat down, blowing on his tea. He had added even more sugar to his than he had Draco's but skipped the cream, preferring a tea brewed so dark it looked black as coffee, "Yeh've been quiet. Somethin' on yer mind?"

Draco nodded, looking at his half-empty cup rather than Hagrid, "I wanted to- I wanted to say I'm sorry for the things I did in school."

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully to himself, "...that's good of yeh, I know it weren't an easy thing fer yeh to say."

"It's something I want to be better at," Draco said quietly.

"Well, I certain yeh'll manage anythin' yeh put yer mind to. Yer not one ter budge on an idea, that's fer certain. Very persistent, yeh are," Hagrid said.

Draco looked up, smiling hesitantly.

"I'm glad to see yeh managed to turn yerself into a decent sort," Hagrid said, "I've been workin' here more'n fifty years and I've seen lots of little shites come through over the years, never could tell who'd manage to pull their head out of their arse."

Draco felt a flush of embarrassment heat his face, "...Sorry."

"Yeh said that already," Hagrid joked.

Draco picked his cup, taking a drink to hide his face.

There was a scratch at the door, followed a moment later by a whine.

Hagrid got to his feet, "That'll be Fang." He pulled open the door and ushered in the massive boar-hound who took two steps inside and had to stop to shake himself all over, sending half-melted snow and a few strings of drool flying. "Come on, come on," Hagrid groused, nudging the dog to come inside far enough for him to close the door.

Fang barked excitedly, wagging his tail and trotting over towards Draco's chair, only to freeze halfway and begin to back away with a whimper.

"Yer, alright Fang," Hagrid said, patting the dog in a vaguely reassuring way, "He's always been a coward. He can prolly tell yeh're a bit diffrent. He'll get used to yeh in time."

Draco stared at the dog, eliciting another whimper. He took a deep breath and tried to pull up that prickly magic feeling and focus it into calm-calm-calm-calming- Draco shivered, the prickle creeping up his back and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end- and Fang blinked, tilted his head to the side and then hesitantly wagged his tail. He walked over, propping his head on the edge of the armchair by Draco's leg, drool soaking into the cushion as he thumped his tail against the floor.

"Well, ain't that somthin," Hagrid said blinking. He slowly went back to his own chair, "a sort of prickly tickly feelin'."

"You can actually feel it?" Draco asked.

"A bit. Got thicker skin than most," Hagrid said. He rolled his shoulders and leaned back, his chair creaking alarmingly, "Nice an' relaxin' feeling, though."

"I'm pretty sure I did that on purpose... maybe?" Draco said, thinking back, "It just seemed to happen before, and Potter wouldn't get angry wi- oh. Except for tonight... is that part of fledging too?"

"What about Harry?" Hagrid said with a frown, his tone hardening instantly, "Yeh haven't been fightin' with him again, have yeh?"

Draco quickly shook his head.

"Yeh, better not. Harry's a good one, one of the best," Hagrid said. He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, "Best wizard livin'. A proper hero."

"...I don't think Potter would agree with you," Draco said.

"He's jus' modest," Hagrid said, somewhat mollified.

Draco was fairly certain Potter was just stupid.

"Before I forget, who is it that's lookin' after yeh? The Headmistress? One of the other professors?" Hagrid asked, taking a sip of tea and wincing, blowing on the top of his tea.

Draco sighed, " It's Potter."

Hagrid blew too hard, sending hot tea over the edge of his cup and onto his hand. He swore and quickly set the cup back on the table, shaking out his hand, "Harry is-"

"looking after me," Draco said.

Hagrid stared at him as if trying to figure out a tricky puzzle, "He's a student..."

Draco nodded.

"An' not a healer type."

Draco shrugged.

"An' he's not a friend of yers-?"

"I never said he was good at it," Draco muttered. He reluctantly explained, "I need someone around who I trust, or I have trouble sleeping and lose my appetite..." he tried to think of in animal terms, "it's... it's like I need a flock? I need someone to watch my back because I get very weak when I go through a fever."

"An' that's Harry," Hagrid said.

"...yes," Draco said.

"An' yer gettin' along alright?" Hagrid asked.

"We were," Draco said, "Potter said he wanted to be friends but when he first started...watching my back, I was using that calming feeling all the time. Earlier today I wasn't, and we ended up arguing... what if we can't even get along unless I'm- I'm influencing him."

"Well..." Hagrid said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "...I suppose, if Harry sees something in yeh worth bein' friends with, then... An' you want ter be friends with Harry?"

"Always," Draco said without thinking and quickly looked away in embarrassment, his face flushing hot.

Hagrid chuckled, "Yer both right stubborn, so I imagine it'll work itself out."

Draco finished off his tea and set the cup aside so he could pull the blanket back around his shoulders. Fang whined softly, his tail giving a few hopeful thumps. Draco hesitantly reached out and scratched the top of his head, earning himself a more enthusiastic tail wag.

"If yeh get right behind his ears, he loves that," Hagrid said.

Draco reached back behind Fang's ear, and the big dog began thumping his leg, his whole body curling towards Draco's hand until he fell off the chair. He spent a few second scratching behind his own ear before putting his head back on the edge of the chair and whining for more attention.

Draco grinned and obliged, scratching both Fang's ears at the same time so he wouldn't fall over.

"I was thinkin', if yeh want to practise flyin' or changin' again, I'd be glad to keep an eye on yeh," Hagrid said.

"Really?" Draco said.

Hagrid nodded, "One condition, no jumpin' off towers."

Draco laughed.

"I mean it," Hagrid said.

Draco looked up from Fang, "Until I have more experience?"

Hagrid shook his head, "Until yeh graduate. Student's shouldn' be jumpin' off roofs. Yeh'd get in trouble fer doin' it with a broom, same with wings. I catch yeh at it again, I supposed I'd have ter take points away, or give yeh detention."

"Fine. I won't jump off the school again," Draco said.

"Good," Hagrid nodded, "An' keep a distance from the forest. Yer safe on the grounds with the wards an all, but there's somethin' dangerous in the woods."

"The forest is always dangerous," Draco said.

"Not the normal kind of dangerous. I lost two thestrals, one got torn up somethin' awful, the other I had ta put down," Hagrid said.

Draco thought back to that day in the tower when he found Potter's plaster cast, and he had lied to Draco about what it was. "A werewolf," he guessed.

"Harry told yeh then?" Hagrid said.

"...I saw the plaster cast he made of some werewolf tracks," Draco said, carefully side-stepping the question, "I could tell because the paw pad is bigger and square-shaped, more like a human palm." he curled his fingers up and looked at his palm, "...Greyback and his pack would leave tracks all around the manor. I got good at identifying them." He looked up at Hagrid, "You're sure the thestrals were attacked by a werewolf?"

"I weren't at first, but she was cut up on her leg an' it wouldn't heal. Harry and Hermione said ter try silver and dittany an' that healed 'er right up, there ain't much else it could be with that," Hagrid said.

"If the wound healed, why did you have to put her down?" Draco asked.

Hagrid's eyes went shiny with tears, "She was too weak, I suppose. Couldn't stand, wouldn't eat or drink nothin'. She was jus' wastin' away, it woulda been cruel if I hadna-" he sniffed hugely and shook his head.

"I won't go anywhere near the forest," Draco promised him.

Hagrid pulled out a handkerchief out of a random pocket and blew his nose with a honk, before stuffing it back in a different pocket. "That's alright then," he said roughly and cleared his throat. He held out his hand, "...Yeh finished yer tea?"

Draco nodded and handed the cup back. He looked at Fang, fixedly staring at the dog's sad droopy eyes as he pet him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to speak, "...thank you for the tea, and- and-" he blinked back tears, "thank you for being kind."

Hagrid set the cup on the table, "It weren't no problem at all."

Draco ducked his head, wiping his eyes as Hagrid turned back.

There was a rattle, and Draco looked up as an old biscuit tin was held out to him filled with lumpy looking treacle toffee that smelled sweetly of caramel, "Would yeh like a toffee?" Hagrid asked.

Draco's hand hovered over the tin until he spotted a small coin-sized piece and plucked it out.

"Thank you," Draco said, his voice sounding slightly rough. The toffee was tacky, sticking to his fingers as he put in his mouth. He knew better than to chew it, his father had often introduced him to old wizards who offered him sticky toffee that stuck his teeth together for the next twenty minutes. In retrospect, that was likely the point. He let the candy sit on his tongue until it softened and then pressed it to the roof of his mouth where it stuck and could melt slowly.

Hagrid went back into the small corner kitchen to put the tin back where it obviously hadn't come from and fussed around while Draco wiped his eyes again and blinked them dry.

Hagrid came back to the fireplace, turning his chair more towards the flames before sitting back down, "Thing is..." he said slowly, "...even when things are seeming their worst, they always gets better in time."

Draco gave a faint nod.

"As long as yeh got someone supporting yeh, things can only improve, like Dumbledore was fer me, great man Dumbledore," Hagrid said, "When my dad died in second year, I thought, can't get no worse than this. Dumbledore helped me keep goin' to school, got me my books when I couldn't afford 'em myself. A'course next year I was kicked out on account of Riddle framin' me and Agarog fer things we didn' do. Dumbledore helped me out then too, got me the groundskeeper job, forever grateful for him doin' that."

"In third-year? You were thirteen," Draco said in dismay.

"The world was different back then... it was nineteen forty-three, the muggles were in their second big war, an' Grindlewald was running around-"

"But you were a just kid," Draco said.

"Lotsa kids were workin' then, an I didn't look it much, I was already near my full height, had a time of it convincing people I wasn't already grown up," Hagrid said.

"I don't care, it isn't fair," Draco said.

Hagrid grinned, "Now yer sounding like yerself."

Draco frowned at him.

"Asides, you were only sixteen yerself when yeh got dragged into things," Hagrid said.

"That's still three more years," Draco said.

Hagrid combed his hand through his beard with a smile, "Right right, yer right o'course. ...I'm gettin' old, an' years don' seem to matter as much as they used to. I ferget how much they tend to mean when yeh've only got a handful of 'em under yer belt. Everything seems a lot more important when yer young."

Draco shook his head in confusion, "I don't-"

"Yeh'll understand in time," Hagrid said, "Nice of yeh to care, young me'd have appreciated that."

Draco felt a shiver down his spine and looked at the door, then back down at his taloned feet. He closed his eyes desperately imagining his feet back to normal, pulling the blanket over his legs in case he couldn't turn back in time.

"Somthin-?"

"Potter's coming," Draco said as he felt his magic begin to thrum under his skin

-

(an:see attached comment for a link to an awesome drawing by YaMumGai4431 on deviant art of  Draco's transformation ♡♡)