The Green Siren

Chapter 12

When Draco woke, Harry was gone. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the sea sloshing against the side of the ship, listened to the echoes of boots thudding against the deck, listened to the loud voices outside. He wasn't sure what the crew knew, what they saw. He wasn't even entirely sure of what had happened or what it meant.

Draco dressed slowly and was relieved to see that Harry had left him a tray of food. He looked out the window, at the clear skies, as he slowly ate and gathered his courage. He needed to mull over what he knew and what it meant.

He was a siren. That much had been proven the day previous. Draco thought back to the day he had met Luna, on Ballena, when Harry had told him of the siren scales and Draco had allowed himself to believe in the existence of the creatures that produced them. He couldn't fathom that the blood of the creatures that shed such ethereal scales ran through his veins. He seemed too bland to be a descendant of those beings.

He knew that the Marauders existed. He knew that some Order existed and Harry was to call a meeting with them. He knew that Captain Voldemort—Tom Riddle?—existed. He knew that Captain Voldemort was attempting to become the Lord of the Lamented, whatever that meant, and apparently it was up to Harry to stop him. He knew that he was to help Harry.

He didn't even know how he could help Harry. He felt acutely out of his depth.

Draco sighed and rubbed the side of his head—it still throbbed a bit. He rested his chin on his fist and tried to make sense of their undertaking. He was still pondering this when the door swung open. He looked up and felt his chest flutter.

"How's the head?" Harry asked, closing the door behind him before making his way over to Draco. Draco didn't know if he ever would get used to the way Harry moved—like a predator. Graceful, yes, but dangerous nonetheless.

"It's fine." Draco waved him off. "There's not a lump again, is there?"

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. "No lump this time."

Harry leaned over the desk and took a piece of bread from the plate, popping it into his mouth before heading back toward the door. Draco knew Harry was aware of his eyes on him. He turned his head as his hand reached for the door handle.

"You should know the only people aware of what happened last night are Red, Creevey, Luna, and the two of us," Harry's voice was straightforward and almost abrupt, but his eyes were gentle. "The rest of the crew thinks you almost drowned, actually," he said, an amused smirk curling his lips. "They're under the impression I saved your life and dragged you back onto the deck."

"Oh, lovely," Draco said, though he was secretly grateful—he didn't know how he felt about the entire crew being aware of his...predicament.

Harry grinned wolfishly, then slipped out of the room. Draco listened as his footsteps, light as they were, faded. He finished off his breakfast, then walked over to the corner of the room. He splashed some water on his face, then looked at his reflection in the mirror hanging above the basin.

He tried to search in his eyes, in his skin, in his teeth, in his fingers, for any semblance of the creature he had become the night before. All he had for reference were his hazy memories and the accounts of Harry, Luna, and Red.

Draco couldn't help but feel frustrated that he knew virtually nothing of what had happened to him. Apparently there was some animal, beast, siren, inside of him, dormant until triggered by the complete immersion in salt water. He felt oddly violated by his own body—he felt he should have been able to tell it was there. He had no idea where it came from and whether he controlled it or it controlled him.