http://inkandfakefurs.insanejournal.com/2192.html

The Killing Moon

This is a really bad time to be moving in,” he said.
“As the virgin said to the necromancer.”
“Bet you can’t remember the beginning of that joke.”
“It’s funnier out of context anyway.”
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calmly and said “so, when were you bitten?”
The pride disintegrated. Lupin had been going easy on him, his questions purposely designed to give Draco wriggle room, to make him complacent…and while Draco’s brain was coming to terms with that ego-puncturing realisation, his mouth was moving. “The 20th,” he whispered. Lupin showed no signs of triumph; he put down his cup and leaned forwards, and the sadness and pity in his eyes made Draco want to curl up and hide.
He managed not to do anything so humiliating; he just looked down at his hands and tried to remember how to breathe. “I suppose you smelt it on me.”
“Ah, the legendary werewolf senses,” Lupin said, and the humour in his voice was tainted by bitterness. “Overrated, I’m afraid - at least for most of the month. I wondered, but I wasn’t sure until I saw the scar on your shoulder. Werewolf bites never heal correctly.” There was a sudden silence, and Draco felt as if he was under close scrutiny. “It wasn’t a random attack, was it? Because you seem to be very good at defending yourself.”
There wasn’t any point to resisting the Veritaserum anymore, but… he felt that if he spoke the words out loud, told Lupin the gory details, then somehow the whole thing would become more real. Besides, Lupin was the same as Greyback - he‘d probably enjoy the story too much. “It wasn’t random,” Draco said, and that was the only response the question needed.
He concentrated on his hands, carefully noting the damage that he still had to get fixed - bruising on one palm, grazes on his knuckles and across the back of his hand. The room seemed to be getting smaller, and the air stuffier.
“Who was it?”
And that didn‘t need much of an answer either. “Fenrir Greyback.”
“Ah.” More silence, then a shadow fell over him and he felt Lupin’s hand on his shoulder. “He’s responsible for my condition too.”
“Don’t touch me!” Draco stumbled to his feet, tiredness forgotten in a sudden blind rush of panic. What the fuck am I doing? I put myself alone with a werewolf - what was I thinking? The room was definitely shrinking. “I haven’t got a condition! The infection might not have taken. I’m not like you.” He backed up to the door. Lupin didn’t move - just looked at him with sad, sympathetic eyes - but he was still too close.
“Really?” Lupin said mildly. “If you can say that under Veritaserum you must really be in denial.”

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AND I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT FUCKING DRACO MALFOY!”

Silence fell as everyone in the corridor turned to stare at Harry. Hermione blinked, then smiled, her eyes twinkling. “No, neither do we. Really.”

Harry reran the sentence through his head. Oh, god - why can’t the floor just open and swallow me up? “Kill me, please.”

“Put any more pictures like that into my head and I will,” Ron said.
He shuddered. “With pleasure.”