Sirius stared down at the roast, boiled potatoes, and roasted vegetables that Madam Rosmerta had placed in front of him at The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. Remus, who had temporarily closed up the bookshop, was sitting beside him with the same fare. Rosmerta had once been the proprietor of The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, but had given it over to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan upon their graduation from Hogwarts last June. Rosmerta smiled at both Sirius and Remus, her curly blonde hair flowing down her back, which swished ever so slightly as she returned behind the bar of the establishment, refilling Butterbeers, Firewhiskeys, and Gillywaters for her other customers.

"We'll find Harry," Remus said quietly, reaching beneath the wood grain of the table they sat around and squeezed the man's leg.

Sirius swallowed. "Will we?" he asked, his tone bitter as he spread the serviette into his lap and took up his knife and fork.

"Don't despair," Remus said, mimicking Sirius's actions and taking up the utensils himself, and casually speared a potato. "We'll get our boy back."

Sirius shook his head, reaching out and making a grab for the tankard of gravy, positioned just so upon the table. "I somehow doubt our venture would prove to be that simple."

Remus blinked. "Meaning?"

Sirius turned and gazed at the man he loved. "Remy, you know as well as I do that Snivellus bore significant hatred towards James," the man said simply. "This would prove to be a perfect opportunity to get revenge. Suppose he defiles Harry..."

"You know how powerful Harry is," Remus said quickly, taking Sirius's hand again. "You mustn't allow yourself to think in those terms..."

"How can I not?" Sirius demanded, tears threatening to prickle at the backs of his eyes. "That man took my son..."

Remus slowly unwrapped Sirius's fingers from the gravy, and poured a generous amount on both their meals. "I know very well what your relationship to Harry is, Sirius, and that he is everything to you," he said quietly. "But you mustn't permit your mind to think the worst. You must always consider the positive side of things."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "How can I do so, when he is under Snivellus's thumb?"

Remus sighed, wishing that the man he loved could let the past go. "You do know that James attempted more than once to poison your mind against him, don't you?"

Sirius turned and regarded Remus then, looking as if he would say something to the contrary, but his eyes seemed to cloud over with something, and he hastily shook his head with a sneer. "One of the many things that gentlemen have been taught from an early age, Remus, is not to speak ill of the dead," he said gruffly.

Remus straightened in his chair. "You know very well that I'm not a gentleman born and bred, Sirius," he said flatly. "My father was merely a bookshop owner, as I am, while my mother tended to the household, and all the babies that did not survive until adulthood, save for me," the sandy-haired man continued, his voice stiff, as it always was when he spoke of his mother's madness, which manifested itself when it was finally determined that Remus would be the only child, born from Lyall Lupin and Hope Howell's marriage. "And while cultivating a bookshop is not a wealthy pursuit, it is a respectable one. I am a respected man within the confines of the Wizarding Community, and I would think, given our long-standing association, that you would remember such a thing."

Sirius lowered his eyes; he knew that Remus would have loved to have had a sibling, while Sirius's relationship with his deceased younger brother, Regulus—the apple of his parents' eye, as a Pureblood Supremacist and Slytherin—had been less than nothing, at best. "I am sorry, Remus," he said softly, tracing at the wood grain upon the table at The Leaky Cauldron. "I know you don't wish to discuss that aspect of your past. I am sorry that you felt the need to bring it up, all due to my whinging."

Remus reached out then, clasping a hand onto Sirius's shoulder; due to his status as a working man, it would be forever chapped by labor, and cut, due to the pieces of parchment from within the books he sold. "Never mind it, Sirius," he said softly, looking up then as a trio of young men came into the establishment, and stiffened automatically.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, detecting the change in his lover's demeanor, and followed his gaze, landing squarely upon Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe Jr., and Gregory Goyle Jr., three Slytherins who had tormented Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of Gryffindor House while they'd all been at Hogwarts. Sirius took in the expensive cuts of the military uniforms all boys were wearing, and heard them bragging to anyone who would listen about the knighthoods which had been bestowed upon them, due to their status as wizarding soldiers.

"Of course, my father will be bestowing me the title of Baron Malfoy upon his death, which would never not be seen as untimely," he said, tipping his ostentatious hat at Madam Rosmerta, as she gave him and his two companions generous tankards of Butterbeer, but gave an eyeroll as soon as she's skirted around them. He put his arm around Pansy Parkinson, who Sirius and Remus just noticed had come in behind him and his cronies; Crabbe and Goyle each had two other ladies gripping tightly to them—Millicent Bulstrode was attached at the hip to Crabbe, while Goyle was all but fondling Daphne Greengrass in public.

"Slytherin Pureblood marriages," Remus muttered in disgust, drinking deeply of his Firewhiskey and shaking his head.

"Marriages?" Sirius asked, immediately turning to his companion. "Surely not. Even The Profit would have announced them," he said.

"Forgive me; they're merely betrothed, with Crabbe and Goyle's marriage dates to Miss Bulstrode and Miss Greengrass, respectively, have already set for sometime next year," Remus replied patiently.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, turning to regard Draco; Draco was the son and only child of his cousin, Narcissa, and he didn't know the boy well at all, other than reports Harry had given him during his years at Hogwarts. The Bulstrode girl had dark hair and a rather unfortunate horse-like face, while Daphne Greengrass was blonde and fair of face, although her eyes glittered with a haughty demeanor that would set anyone with a brain off. "And here I am surprised that Draco is to be wed to Miss Parkinson," he murmured.

"Oh?" Remus asked. "You and Narcissa discussed his marriage plans, did you?"

Sirius scoffed. "Surely not," he replied. "Only that Hermione had heard the whispers that he was to be betrothed to the younger Miss Greengrass," he said softly.

"Ah, yes. Astoria," Remus remarked. "A Ravenclaw, if I recall correctly, and seen as a black sheep to the Slytherin family, and a bitter disappointment, despite the fact that her marks were considerably higher than that of the elder Miss Greengrass's."

"And then," Draco went on from across the establishment, "he had the nerve to decline the flowers I so graciously offered to him."

Pansy Parkinson twittered in a manner which she considered to be adorable, but Sirius and Remus quickly managed to be disgusted. "Darling, I know we don't like him, but surely he must have learned something about etiquette while encased behind the walls of Hogwarts, or in that tomb of a house he was raised in," she said.

Draco scoffed, but nevertheless permitted himself to be petted by his betrothed. "Perhaps, my Pansy, but you should have seen the way his eyes flashed when I dared offer him a token of my friendship."

"Perhaps he could not forget the past?" Pansy suggested, stroking Draco's arm, and leaning her raven head upon it a moment later.

"He is not gentleman if he could not forget it," Draco said snippily, sipping at his Butterbeer with a look of disdain upon his face. "Harry bloody Potter..." He sneered. "And good riddance, too. I've not seen him since that day."

Sirius straightened up in his chair, looking over at Remus. "Did you not say that Harry came by the bookshop while I was away?"

Remus nodded at him. "Yes, I did," he replied, looking from Sirius, to Draco, and back again. "I think this is another piece of the puzzle to Harry's steps, in between his leaving the bookshop, and his tea with Albus and Gellert," he whispered. "Do you think we ought to ask Draco what happened between the two of them?"

Sirius sighed. "If we do, he'll likely want a price for it," the man replied.

Remus gritted his teeth. "Perhaps so, but we would also be privy to information that we never would have known before," he countered.

Sirius slammed his fist into the booth they sat upon, knowing that their options were limited, but nevertheless raised his hand, waiting for the blond to acknowledge him. Sirius knew full well that the entitled attitude from the Malfoy heir had to have come from Lucius himself, for Narcissa was well-bred enough to know not to keep people waiting. All of this was done in Draco's own time, mind you, but it was done at the end of things, and Sirius and Remus straightened up as the blond approached, signaling for Crabbe, Goyle, their paramours, and Miss Parkinson to remain at the bar behind them.

"Ah, Lord Black, Master Lupin," Draco sneered, no ounce of respect coming from his tone, which, in turn, dripped with disdain. "To what do I owe the obvious displeasure?"

"Watch yourself," Sirius growled.

"Easy, Sirius," Remus said softly, before he turned to Draco. "Sir Draco, we heard you speaking of Harry to your comrades a few moments ago. We were not aware that he ran into you upon his last journey into the alley."

Draco inclined his head. "I would have thought that standard etiquette lessons informed young people not to listen to their betters' conversations," he said softly.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "From now until you inherit your father's barony, Sir Draco, I am your better," he replied, and Draco visibly appeared annoyed by this. "I, too, however, question your motives in seeking to converse with Harry. From what he told me, you were never on the best of terms whilst attending Hogwarts. Would you please enlighten me as to what your conversation was truly about?"

Draco's rodent-like face clearly took on an emotion of irritation, but also knew that causing a row, in public, no less, with someone considered his better, for the moment, at least, would be ill-advised. "I spoke to Potter, yes," he said at last, his tapered fingers grazing his tankard lightly as he mulled over what words would be appropriate to speak. "I offered him flowers, and with the insinuation that I was interested in him romantically..."

"And what of Miss Parkinson, Sir Draco?" Remus asked, knowing that he could hardly help himself from asking. "Your betrothal is public knowledge, after all."

If Draco was annoyed by the direct question of someone he and the rest of the Malfoy clan deemed to be 'lesser' than themselves, he didn't overtly show it. "Pansy knows her place, as a woman, and as a witch," he said offhandedly, sipping at his drink. "She will accept the circumstances presented to her, as both the betrothal and marriage contracts ink was dried many years before either of us began at Hogwarts. As long as the marriage contract is ultimately fulfilled, before the two of us mutually reach the age of twenty-one, we may do whatever we like, provided that we are discreet about it."

"Back to Harry," Sirius said, obviously trying to keep his temper with Draco, as he took Remus's hand beneath the table in a clandestine manner, "what was his response?"

"He was quite rude, if I'm being honest," Draco replied, his tone bored as he permitted his Butterbeer to swirl within its tankard. "Someone of his breeding had to have been taught manners, but that's beside the point."

"And?" Sirius asked, obviously attempting to keep his temper.

"He refused my suit for courtship, siting his reasons for our mutual dislike of one another, plus my contracts with Pansy," Draco informed him. "I offered him flowers—quite lovely ones, too—which he adamantly refused to take." He shrugged. "I don't know what you're asking of me. Our conversation was trivial, at best, and quite brief. He left via the Floo in here," he said, gesturing towards the fireplace beyond, "and I've not seen him since."

Sirius's dark brows knit together at that. "Ancient Wizarding Law prohibits more than one courtship to go on at once," he said softly. "Although it is frowned upon in Muggle circles, to be sure, I'm not well-versed in their laws."

Draco sneered, "I merely wished to reap the rewards of a courtship, Lord Black," he said, and rolled those silvery eyes of his. "Wizarding Courtship doesn't prohibit both parties being close, provided that it is consensual."

Sirius gripped at the edges of the table. "So, you're saying you wished to defile my godson?!" he demanded, spitting with rage.

Draco threw his head back and laughed. "I would say something derogatory, but Potter didn't permit many to touch him, in the aftermath of his courtship with young Lord Diggory, heir to Marquis Diggory, in a manner considered sensual or sexual," he said with mirth, "until young Miss Weasley managed to ensnare him. But believe you me, although he attempted to gather public opinion that he was most pleased with the union, hoped-for on all sides, mind you, the depths of his eyes appeared to be filled with something haunting, something that only a phallus could cure. I merely thought that offering up my services would benefit Potter in some way, to the point where he could get his head out of the clouds and move on from Lord Diggory and the Weasley girl completely."

Sirius launched to his feet at that, and would have clobbered Draco into next week, were it not for Remus's strong arms encasing themselves around him. This, however, did not stop Sirius from screaming at the Malfoy heir, as the latter stumbled backward, back towards his comrades, as Remus ushered him out of The Leaky Cauldron. "It's because of you that he will not have a happy memory of Diagon Alley to take with him, now that the Earl of Murkwood has imprisoned him in Epping Forest!" he shouted, the words tearing from his throat, which caused Draco's eyes to widen, as Remus dragged him out into the alley, and towards the Point of Apparition, so as the pair could return to Grimmauld Place.

~*~

Harry had had a lovely morning and afternoon in the company of Ron, Hermione, and little Teddy, who was slowly but surely coming to terms with the English language. Hermione was teaching him the basics of reading and writing, simple spells, magical theory, and the differences between the Wizarding World and the Muggle one. Ron was instructing Teddy on the ins and outs of Quidditch, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. As for Harry, he was helping Mrs. Weasley with teaching Teddy about cooking and household spells, as well as transfiguration and charms. He heard from Ron and Hermione that His Grace had graciously been willing to tutor Teddy in the basics of potions before he began at Hogwarts, as he believed their former professor, Horace Slughorn, to be incompetent.

"He's not so bad, once you get to know him properly," Neville said quietly to Harry, as he assisted in dressing up the latter for dinner that evening with the earl. "He's given me control of all the greenhouses on the acres here, once Professor Sprout contacted him about my OWLs and NEWTs marks. He's impressed with me," he went on, and Harry smiled, remembering how passionate his school friend had been about plants. "I'm even going to instruct Teddy on herbology, once he gets old enough."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it, as will Ron and Hermione," Harry assured him. As Neville went off to fetch his dinner jacket and shoes, Harry pulled slightly at the crimson silk tie he wore. "You really think the earl's not so bad, Nev?"

Neville sighed, never wanting to speak ill of authority figures, although he had never liked Professor Umbridge during their time at Hogwarts; then again, nobody had. Although now Neville had something to lose—his position—and, given that the walls likely had ears, he knew that he couldn't be speaking too frankly. "Everyone has the potential to be a bit rough around the edges, when it comes to people whom you've not made an acquaintance with," he hedged carefully, stepping closer to Harry and offering up the jacket.

Harry shrugged into it. "I just don't know, Neville..."

"You've not been here very long—merely four days," Neville reminded him, smiling brightly as their eyes met in the mirror, and he smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles that Harry's jacket supposedly had. "Perhaps if you were to give it more time, it would work out."

Harry swallowed. "I will try," he answered.

Neville walked Harry part of the way down the corridor, before he scuttled off to complete his other tasks before bedtime. Harry sighed, knowing that compromise was likely due here, as he set off down the staircase that would lead him directly to the double doors of the dining room. It was a quick trip, and, once he had arrived, the double doors opened for him, and he slowly stepped inside, and took the seat at the foot of the table, once he noticed that the earl was already sitting at the head, presumably waiting for him.

"Good evening," said the earl softly.

Harry looked up at him and nodded. "Good evening, Your Grace," he replied. He lowered his gaze back onto the table; the white tablecloth was in place, not a blemish in sight, and the cream-colored china with silver gilt wrapped around it was in its proper place, with the soup bowl placed upon the entrée plate, waiting to be filled by magic. The many polished silver forks, spoons, and knives dotted either side of the plate and bowl, and there was a tumbler for Gillywater, and a larger glass, which normally boasted red wine at dinnertime.

"Quiet this evening, aren't we?" the earl asked conversationally, pulling his napkin out from beneath his silverware, without disturbing the individual pieces—other than a rhythmic clang here and there—and spread the fabric upon his lap.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, and painstakingly removed his own napkin from beneath his set of silverware, without so much show, and placed it upon his own lap. "No more than usual, sir," he replied.

The earl arched an eyebrow as he regarded his younger companion. "Well, then. Perhaps we could speak about our days?"

Harry felt his Adam's apple bobbing from within his throat, but nevertheless permitted himself to answer the question. "Of course, if you like," he said softly.

"Lovely," came the reply. "And what did you do, then?"

"I spent time with Ron, Hermione, and little Teddy," he replied. "It was a bit nicer today—the sun was out, you know—so, despite the snow upon the ground, we walked outside a bit. Teddy is quite fond of Buckbeak, you see, so I had him up upon his back again. I still won't let him ride on his own yet, but he enjoys the ride all the same."

"An engaging child, young Theodore is," the earl responded with a nod. "I remember when Mrs. Weasley brought him to me—squalling little thing that he was—and informed me that someone had left the poor mite upon the doorstep of the servant's kitchens. Naturally, after deducing that I could amend certain potions recipes to accommodate the little thing, we built up his strength and, miraculously, his magical core."

Harry blinked. "You saved him, then?" he whispered.

The earl scoffed. "You make it sound as if it was nothing short of a miracle, or that it was not in my nature to do so," he replied with a huff.

Harry swallowed, noticing that wine had appeared in their respective goblets, and he tentatively lifted his glass. "Forgive me if this sounds presumptuous, sir, but I don't know you well enough to know what is or isn't in your nature, much," he said, and sipped at the wine.

The earl acknowledged that statement with a nod, and took a drink from his own goblet. "Yes, I do suppose you're correct in that statement."

"Hmmm," Harry said softly, amid another sip of the wine—it was quite good. "Buckbeak loves to put his hooves into various snowdrifts," he said after a moment, as a curl of steam rose from within the center of his place setting and, upon looking down, saw that it was a delectable-smelling vegetable soup that evening. Lowering his glass of wine and picking up the correct spoon, he gently dipped it into the bowl and took a bite. The vegetables had become soft and tasted entirely of the broth, and he detected leeks, carrots, celery, turnips, and potatoes, all laced with a generous hint of garlic.

There was a tell-tale clang of something from the other side of the table then, and Harry looked up at the earl, who was staring, wide-eyed, at Harry. "Where exactly does that hippogriff of yours like to traipse upon my grounds?" he demanded.

Harry swallowed his bite of soup and slowly lowered the spoon to rest upon the edge of the bowl as he stared at his captor. "Why should that matter?" he queried. "All the gardens look the same, now that snow covers everything..."

"You should know very well by now that it does not, in fact, cover everything, which is what got your guardian locked up, and you involved in this mess in the first place," the earl snapped. "So, now, I will ask you again. Where does that blasted hippogriff of yours like to traipse?!" he spat, the flecks of spittle hitting the table.

Harry sighed, recalling when he had answered a question of Ron's earlier that day, where he had taken his eyes off Buckbeak's progress of walking Teddy, all for a moment. This had caused the hippogriff to go a bit stir-crazy, and Harry and Ron had dived for his reins and for Teddy respectively, to prevent anything bad from happening. However, Buckbeak had trampled into the potions garden, and upset a heap of thyme leaves, which he had trampled unceremoniously, and Hermione was devastated that she could revive the plant with a spell. When they'd summoned Neville, however, he confirmed that, due to the complexities of the Weather Charms that the earl had put upon the potions garden, that any plant-based remedies would be impossible to fix what the hippogriff had trodden upon.

"Buckbeak got into the potions garden," Harry said softly.

The earl stared thunderously at Harry. "Did he?" he asked, his tone rather conversational, although Harry could tell that it was laced with unbridled rage. "And did he or did he not manage to destroy anything?"

Harry swallowed, all his appetite gone as his hands fell into his lap, and his fingers proceeded to knot themselves together. "Thyme," he whispered.

"What?" the earl spat.

"Buckbeak trampled upon your thyme, sir," he replied.

The earl launched to his feet then and crossed the room towards Harry, and yanked him up and out of the chair he sat upon. He stared down into his eyes for a moment before he shook him and threw him off, causing Harry to stumble backwards. "Get out," he said.

Harry blinked. "Sir?" he whispered.

"Get out of here!" he suddenly raged, the anger now center stage as he turned his black gaze onto the younger man. "I want you to take that blasted hippogriff of yours and get out of my home! I never want to see your face again!" he yelled.

Harry scrambled to obey, not even caring about how cold it possibly was, nor for the impracticality of his dinner attire. He dashed out of the dining room, the unfinished soup forgotten, as he had freedom in his sights, and was determined to take it. He threw open the door which led directly to the stables at the end of the corridor, and ran like a madman out into the snow, ignoring the fact that it was likely to turn into a storm. He rushed into the stables and grabbed ahold of Buckbeak's reins, before promptly bowing to the beast, petting him, and hopping onto his back rather quickly.

"Ride, Beaky!" he shouted, and squeezed his flanks with his boots, not even bothering to remember that such a creature could fly.

The pair of them tore out of the stables and through the gardens as the snow became thicker around them, and the front gates opened as Buckbeak's hooves clattered upon the cobblestones of the yard before them. As the creature's hooves hit the dirt of the forest floor, Harry dug into his pocket and brought out his wand, whispering "Lumos", as they fled from their prison. As they trotted, trying to get away as fast as possible, neither of them heard the tell-tale signs of heavy breathing, the stamps of canine feet, or the way that the wind rolled off their fur, as they slowly reared up their heads to let out a series of almighty howls.

~*~

Sirius and Remus arrived at Grimmauld Place with a crack, and Sirius promptly shoved Remus away from him as he tore inside the ancestral Black family home. He ignored Kreacher and made his way directly into the parlor, pouring himself a generous helping of scotch, while Remus shot the house-elf an apologetic look. Remus followed Sirius into the parlor and took in his lover, who had thrown his head back and was chugging the drink.

"Don't do that," he said gently.

Sirius flashed Remus a bitter look. "And why should I not? My son has been taken, and I've been insulted in public by the ferret face of the Malfoy heir," he grumbled.

Remus crossed the room and gently removed the shot glass from Sirius's hands, and gently moved his hands up and down his lover's arms. "Harry wouldn't want you to get yourself into such a state," he reminded him.

Sirius temporarily dragged his hands down his face before all but collapsing onto Remus's shoulder, tremors of bitter laughter flowing through him. "I just don't know what to do," he admitted, his tone riddled with despair.

There was a tentative knock upon the front door then, causing Sirius to look up, and Remus to turn around, as they saw Kreacher walking automatically towards it from the kitchen, where he had likely fled upon Sirius and Remus's arrival. He straightened himself up as best he could before grabbing ahold of the brass door knob and turned it, peering out into the dark December night and narrowing his eyes.

"You've upset Master Sirius," he said by way of greeting.

Sirius and Remus stared at one another for a moment, before breaking apart and making their way towards the door themselves, with the latter catching hold of it before the house-elf could slam it upon the intruder's face. Sirius looked up at said intruder, and found his blue eyes widening as he took in Draco Malfoy standing upon his porch.

Crossing his arms before he could help himself, he stated, "If you're here to rub the notion that Harry is not here in our faces, then we are not interested, Malfoy."

"Sirius," Remus said warningly.

Draco sighed and shook his head, and, for his part, appeared genuine. "As soon as you left The Leaky Cauldron, I told Crabbe and Goyle to rally up some men, good men, after a Floo Call to my father," he informed Sirius, who raised his eyebrows. "My father will provide funds to the best men for the job, and we'll find where Potter is being kept."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I was under the impression that you and Harry hated one another," he said, not about to readily believe the young man in front of him.

"We do," Draco said, readily willing to admit to such a thing. "But Potter is of good, noble stock, and Father won't stand for harsh treatment of him, from anyone. He doesn't need the situation explained to him at length, all he needed to know was that a nobleman was in danger, and he readily agreed to part with the funds necessary to ensure that the best men are brought forth to storm the forest to bring him back."

Remus peered into the darkness past Draco, and along the cobblestones, towards the black iron gate at the edge of the property and shook his head. The smart pillars, carved from pearl-white marble, boasted impressive torches above them, but they were flickering, at best, due to the flurries of snow around them. "Best send them in the morning," he advised Draco, "pending the weather, of course."

Draco nodded. "Capital idea," he agreed. "Lord Black, might I use your Floo? I nearly splinched myself during Apparition, due to the weather, and I've got to get back to the manor before it gets too late."

"Not at all," Sirius replied, knowing full well that one good turn deserved another, and stepped back, just far enough for Draco to get inside and walk over to the parlor. He knew that telling the Malfoy heir that he was welcome to stay for dinner would also be generous, but he was not feeling overly so, especially given that he'd already given the lad permission to utilize the Black family Floo. "You will inform your father of these developments?"

Draco nodded a second time, taking a handful of Floo powder and making his way towards the flames within the fireplace. "Will do. Good evening, gentlemen," he said, bowing briefly to them both, before tossing the powder into the flames, and calling for "Malfoy Manor", and was promptly swallowed up.

~*~

Harry spurred Buckbeak forward as much as he could, without a saddle or stirrups to guide him, as they ventured further and further into the forest. He could now hear the sounds of the werewolves around him, and gulped within his throat, leaning forward just enough to wrap his arms around the hippogriff's neck, hoping beyond hope to get out of there quickly. The snow around them decided to grow thicker by the minute and, as they turned a bend in the trees, they came upon a vast clearing, one that he did not remember seeing before.

Just as they stepped into it, Buckbeak's hooves stumbled in the very deep snowdrift, and he let out a despondent noise as Harry did his best to right him. At that moment, they were quickly surrounded by Greyback's pack, and Harry swore under his breath as he attempted to urge Buckbeak forward, to find a weak spot within the ranks. Spooking as the werewolves ventured closer to them, Buckbeak suddenly reared himself, his wings coming out to play, and swooped upwards, leaving Harry—who had not been expecting such a movement—to topple from his back and into the deep snowdrift.

Harry launched himself to his feet, fumbling for his wand for a moment in the snow, and aimed it at all the werewolves who dared to step too close to him. "Confringo!" he shouted, pointing it at a rather heavy-looking tree branch, which immediately blasted apart, causing three of the beasts to scatter at once, into the darker parts of the forest. Looking further, he saw that four of the wolves were standing upon the edges of an ice pond, and yelled, "Expulso!" right at the surface of it, causing the ice to break, and the creatures to run for their lives, whimpering at the sensation that their fur had gotten significantly wet. "Reducto!" he screamed at last, towards a pair of wolves who were right behind him, causing a bit of a tree trunk to blast forth and take the pair of them out, to the point where he was facing Greyback head-on.

Greyback transformed into his human form then, and stared at Harry with those dark, soulless eyes of his that he had seen more than once within The Daily Profit or The Quibbler. "Ah, if it isn't young Lord Potter, whom my master successfully made an orphan," he gloated, and Harry gripped at his wand, rage flowing through him at the werewolf's words. "How touching it will be for me to bring you to my master, once and for all," he declared, bending down to spring, and it was then that there was an almost inhuman yell, and a sea of black robes temporarily obliterated Harry's vision of the creature.

Harry's jaw dropped then as the earl made himself known, toppling the werewolf to the ground with a well-placed Petrificus Totalus. He saw then, however, the moment before he could deliver the curse, that the werewolf bestowed deep gashes upon his arm. Harry watched then as the earl stumbled to his feet, Greyback's body limp with the curse, and turned to look at Harry for a moment, his black eyes riddled with pain, before he crumpled into the snow around them, his arm bleeding considerably.

Harry bit his lip and whistled, hoping that Buckbeak would hear, and was immensely relieved when the hippogriff flew downwards and, after assessing the situation, promptly landed before his master and responded to Harry's bow. Harry smoothed his feathers before giving the earl a glance, and sighed, his Gryffindor instincts getting the better of him. Cautiously stepping closer to the black robe clad man, he whispered, "Levicorpus," and gently eased the earl onto Buckbeak's back, before he turned around, and gently lead the hippogriff back around the bend and through the forest, hoping beyond hope that the werewolves would remain silent until they managed to return to the manor.

~*~

Harry had just managed to get the earl into bed in the master suite, with the help of Ron, Neville, and the earl's own personal valet, Richard, Baron of Hollowick, who was a kindly man who seemed very loyal to his master. The baron profusely thanked Harry for bringing him back, and let him know that if there was anything he needed, anything at all, all he need do was ask. Ron was quick to bring in his mother and Mrs. McGonagall, the senior members of the staff, who deduced that a magically-induced coma was the correct way to go, until someone could figure out how to cure the earl.

Harry was despondent, and fell into a fitful sleep that evening, when it was confirmed that he could be of no help. The next morning, he bathed himself and thanked Neville when he dressed him, and was quite surprised to receive a visit from Hermione so early in the morning. "Is there any change?" he asked quickly.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, moving Teddy to her other hip. She pressed a kiss to her would-be son's forehead, and he gave Harry a smile, as he nestled into the space between her head and shoulder. "But I did have an idea," she said at last. "Come with me."

Harry blinked, but nevertheless followed his friend, pulling his morning jacket around him as they ventured down the corridor and towards a sweeping staircase he had never seen before. He made no moves to question Hermione further as they ventured up it, and Hermione whispered the Unlocking Spell as they came to a pair of white doors with golden gilt around them at the end of the corridor. Harry stayed back until Hermione stepped forward, and they mutually whispered an effective Lumos as they stepped inside, and light immediately filled the space, which caused Harry to gasp in shock, for he had never seen so many books in his entire life.

"The potions section is over there," Hermione said softly, jostling Teddy slightly in her arms to keep him amused, and is rewarded with a small giggle, and Harry follows her indicating finger across the library, towards a rather grand-looking section. "I would look myself, but I've got chores and this one to help Molly with," she continues, and Harry nods, knowing by now that Hermione and Molly share childcare duties in the mornings when it comes to Teddy, with Ron and Hermione sharing them in the afternoons.

"I can handle it," Harry replied. "You're telling me, then, that no charms or spells can be utilized here?" he wanted to know, turning to look at Hermione. "Perhaps a variation, or an opposite, rather, on the Lycacomia Curse," he suggested.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "That's Dark magic, and you know very well that nobody will touch that willingly, Harry," she said, holding Teddy close.

"And not Wolfsbane, then?" he inquired.

Hermione shook her head again. "Because Greyback wasn't in his werewolf form, His Grace won't respond to such a thing appropriately," she said with a sigh. "We thought perhaps a new potion would help. And you know how Sluggy adored you..."

Harry worried his lower lip, but nodded, nevertheless. "I owe him something, now that he's saved my life," he said softly. "All right, Hermione. I'll try."

Hermione beamed at him, stepping forward and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "Godspeed, my Harry," she said, before dashing from the library with Teddy, to complete her chores, no doubt, as Harry turned towards the cases and sighed.

"Right, then," he said, and proceeded to roll up his sleeves. "Let's see what we can do about all this, shall we?"