Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or this story, but its one of my favorites and I thought it would be perfect for these characters.

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BEARSKIN

King Lucius and Queen Narcissa, the rulers of Slytherin, were in love, and the effects shown throughout their kingdom. The people were happy and safe with their compassionate leaders, and lived in peace.

The only cloud on their love was their lack of a child. Narcissa wanted greatly to give her husband a son, an heir, but their wizard Snape, had warned her that carrying a child could kill her.

Still, out of her great love for her husband, she kindled a babe within her and carried it.

Not knowing the gravity of his wife's condition, the King was overjoyed. Every day that Narcissa was pregnant was another day he adored her, a day that he found her more beautiful than any previous. But as she reached the end of her eighth month, she began to weaken. Her skin, already fair, paler to a sickly hue, and her eyes gained a strange fire as though they were the only thing keeping her and the child within her alive.

King Lucius called for the finest doctors in the kingdom and beyond, but they, in fear for their lives, refused to tell him his wife's true condition. As the kind and gentle Queen grew weaker, the King became angrier and angrier. Finally, he gathered the doctors together and demanded the truth from them. They all stood silent, but for one. The oldest and most venerable doctor had traveled from the neighboring Kingdom of Gryffindor at the King's request and he was a brave man. Stepping forward, Dumbledore finally spoke true words to the king. "You wife is dying. The child is taking her strength. There is nothing we can do." After a moment of silence, King Lucius howled his grief and rage. He had wished for a child, but not at this cost. Never at this cost.

He threw the doctors out of his kingdom as they could do nothing but speak him empty words, and returned to his wife's bedside. He sat there for days, refusing rest and anything but the meagrest food and they talked. He told her he loved her, and that he hated her for leaving him. And they wept. She told him that she loved him, and that she loved their child. And they wept. As her stomach grew larger, she seemed to fade away, spending more and more of her time asleep, but he still did not leave his beloved's side.

Finally, one day she awoke him with an urgent hand and he looked into her face to see it screwed tight with fear and pain.

"Our babe is coming, my love."

He began again to weep, though he thought he had no tears left. "I do not want the child, if I must lose you. Why did you do this? I will be alone without you."

Smiling weakly, she said, "You are not alone. You will never be alone. I want you to marry again," she ignored his denials, "I want you to find someone you can love just like me. I want you to be happy with our child."

Then the nurses and maids rushed into the room sweeping Lucius outside. He tried to get back into the room, but the door has been barred and through the thick wood all he could hear were his wife's cries of pain, until they were broken by a child's wail and then, silence.

The oldest nurse, one who had guided Narcissa into the world, came forth with a small bundle in her hands, and tears in her eyes.

Lucius felt his legs collapse beneath him, too weak to hold him upright, as the child approached. This is what had killed his wife, this small wrinkled thing.

Regaining his strength, he resolved to care for the child, but he could not look upon him without knowing the cost. He named the child, Draco, after his wife's favorite constellation, and assigned him the nurse as a nanny with Snape to teach him later. Sending them off to an unused wing of the castle, he returned to his rooms and locked himself in with bottles of fire whiskey and his grief.

As the years turned, the kingdom of Slytherin changed. The King no longer cared for his people and the land knew it. The markets and trade collapsed and taxes grew higher at the King's whim. The people turned to banditry for money, for food. The king left his rooms but rarely, letting his advisers come to him and pour their poison in his ear.

And so it was that the war with the kingdom of Gryffindor began, for had it not been their doctor, doctor to the king and queen of that far off golden land that told the Queen she would die? The doctors, so wise, could have saved her and did not.

Sixteen years later King Lucius, roused from his chambers by the maids who would freshen his bed clothes and restock his liquor cabinet, leaned against the railing of his balcony which looked over the Royal Gardens.

Normally Lucius avoided the sight. The gardens were Narcissa's project, and they were maintained in her honor and grew as green and lush as they had during her life. His heart aching again at the thought of his beloved, Lucius clenched his jaw, but as he turned away he saw something flash in the depth of the foliage and it drew his attention. Looking closer he saw a blond head moving back and forth under the leaves of an old willow tree. The blond hair was just the color of his wife's and he was caught in the dream that it might be his Narcissa returned to him.

Gathering his robes around himself Lucius rushed back into his chambers and through the castle until he found himself at the garden gate. Beyond he saw the blond figure moving back and forth in the flourishing plants and he stepped in slowly, so as not to startle the apparition.

"Grey? Come here Grey."

The voice was soft and low, and it almost sounded like Narcissa. Lucius moved closer. The figure was still half-hidden in the shadows, but the form, slim and tall, was much like Narcissa's and they way it moved taunted him with memory.

When finally the figure turned towards him with a small palace cat in its arms, Lucius' breath caught in his throat. It was Narcissa. It was…

Hours later Lucius woke in his bed, the heavy weight of grief on his chest as he wept. He had lost her again, it was a beautiful horrible dream.

"My Lord?"

Lucius turned o the door and saw Severus Snape, one of his most trusted advisors, standing there.

"My Lord are you well? A maid found you collapsed in the garden."

"Ah Severus," the king said, "I had a fearsome dream. My beloved came back to me. She was so close, Severus." The king reached out one arm towards the open air, not seeing a shadow pass the advisor's face.

"I'm sorry, my Lord--"

"Call me by name or do not speak to me. We have known each other long enough, have we not?"

"Very well," Severus said moving further into the room and taking a seat on the low couch next to the bed. "Lucius. I'm afraid the figure you saw was not wholly the creation of your grief."

Lucius was confused. "What do you mean? it was my Narcissa, my bride come back to life."

"No, My Lo-- Lucius. It was your son, Draco."

Apart from those few moments after his birth, Lucius had never seen the babe that took his queen's life. He received regular reports from the maids and Severus regarding his schooling and behavior, but for the most part they joined the ever-growing piles of ignored paperwork in his study.

"My son is still a child Severus. That figure was almost the image of my wife when we met."

The dour and dark-haired advisor flushed lightly. "In truth Lucius, Draco is the image of his mother, with her sweet spirit and quick wit. The resemblance is quite remarkable to see."

Rising from the bed, Lucius gestured for his advisor to stand as well. "Lead me to him, Severus. Lead me to my son."

Severus nodded and led the king through the castle to an isolated wing in the west where the sun set. The halls were plain but clean, lined with art done in a childish hand.

Severus and the king came to a grand wooden door and Severus tapped the pass rhythm. When the door opened, Lucius gasped in shock. It was Narcissa.

He reached out to caress the beloved face when the figure stepped back and bowed respectfully.

"Greetings, my lord father."

"Draco….," the king said wonderingly.

The boy looked up and met his father's gaze, his eyes reflecting a confusion and wariness Lucius remembered from his wife.

"Draco your father has come to visit you," Severus said, and the boy nodded.

A voice came from the opposite doorway, "It's about time, my Lord, beggin' your pardon."

Lucius looked up and saw Pomphrey, the nurse he had assigned to his son's care. To see her here brought into reality that this boy before, the image of his late queen, was their son, his son, and the last remnant of Narcissa on Earth.

Biting back a sob Lucius rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the boy, ignoring his shocked stiffness, and weeping into his neck where silvery-blond hair brushed against his cheeks.

After long moments in which the boy relaxed enough to return his father's embrace, Lucius regained himself. He felt alive for the first time in sixteen years.

The next few weeks were a bright time for Lucius. He sent his secretaries to find every report Pomphrey and Severus had left for him and he learned everything he could about his son. The boy was as sweet-hearted as he seemed, and as intelligent as any father could wish. He was well-trained in politics and history, in court etiquette and warrior skills.

He was a Prince to be proud of.

Lucius made time to spend with his son. The members of his council had long since taken on the role of ruling Slytherin and Lucius saw no reason to change this arrangement so he was free to follow his own desires. Long afternoons would stretch into evening as Lucius grew to know and love his son.

This love became stronger as Lucius recognized the similarities between his son and the wife he had lost. It was more than their appearance, it was their behavior, and their minds. In his son Lucius knew his wife had come again, and he had no intention of losing her again.

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"You cannot do this, Lucius."

Severus sounded enraged. Draco had never heard the man so angry. Irritation as common, but not this disgusted rage. Desperate to know what had so overset the man he considered an uncle, Draco stayed in he shadows of the hall, out of sight.

"I am a king, Snape. I may do what I wish."

"Lucius, he is your son. I know you are in pain, and I know you believe this is a solution, but you cann--"

"It is not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do. You are merely my advisor."

Draco heard Severus gasp in shock. After an endless moment of silence, he man spoke. "What you intend to do is wrong, Your Majesty. Your son will not wish it, and your wife would not wish it. To do this will dishonor your family, and disgrace her memory."

Now Draco heard the king sigh. "I am doing what my wife wished. In her last moment she told me to find someone to love, just like her. Is there any other so like my Narcissa?" There was a pause, then Lucius said, "I will take your silence to be assent. You will see, Snape, this is how the universe has rewarded me. They have given me my bride back. Now leave me."

Draco heard Severus walk away and tucked himself further into the corner. When the black-clad man had passed, he made his way into a secret passage that would bring him back to his quarters.

He arrived there only seconds before his uncle swept in the door. Severus wore a dark shadow across his face, and Draco felt his heart leap into his throat.

"Severus? What is it? What is happening?"

The man grimaced before moving towards Draco and taking the boy into a fierce embrace, equally returned. Then he let go and motioned towards the table.

Draco knew his nurse was asleep, so he kept his voice down as he took a seat. "I heard… I'm not sure what I heard. His bride? My mother? What madness is this?"

Severus laughed roughly. "Madness indeed. Your father thinks to take you to wife."

With that Draco felt that heart in his throat drop to his stomach and land with a hard thump. He knew it must have shown on his face because Severus rubbed a hand over his face and turned away.

"I am sorry, Draco. I should not have told you that way. You are too innocent for such things."

Swallowing a wave of nausea, Draco said, "I am not so innocent that I do not understand. My father believes I am my mother returned and he means to wed me, to have me." He felt a thick dampness at the corner of his eyes and brushed away the impending tears. There would be time enough for a collapse later. "What do we do?"

A light dawned in the older man's eyes at Draco's words. Leaning forward he said, "You must escape. That is the only way you will be safe. Your father will not propose until the full moon, it is the night he proposed to your mother. That gives us time to gather your things and find a way out of the kingdom. I still have friends in other countries and we can make our way to them. It will be difficult, but I believe you can be free--"

"Free, Severus? And why should my son be free of me?"

Caught up in planning, neither Severus or Draco had noticed Lucius entering the wing, two hulking guards at his back. "I had thought to surprise my beloved, and in turn I am surprised. Did you truly plan to leave me, Draco?"

Draco shook his head quickly. The guards were fingering their scabbards and Draco could see the glitter of madness in Lucius' eyes.

"I thought not. But still, Severus, you were my trusted friend and now you betray me?"

The advisor stood, gathering his dignity around him like the folds of his cloak. "I am sorry my Lord, but your grief has warped your mind. This thing you would do is wrong."

The king shook his head sorrowfully, but Draco could still see that shine in his eyes. Slowly the king gestured to his guards and a metallic ring filled the room as the swords were pulled free.

Thinking quickly, Draco threw himself in front of his uncle. "My Lord! Please, for me do not do this. Severus has been my friend and teacher and I would not see him dead."

The guards froze and the king stepped forward, brushing Draco's cheek with his hand while the boy fought the urge the shudder and turn away.

"You are so fierce, my beloved? You would defend this traitor?"

"He is no traitor to me, My Lord. He has only my best interest at heart."

Lucius' hand tightened on Draco's jaw and the boy bit back a cry at the pain. "Your best interests are in my hands, my son. This man is nothing to you, nothing more than a servant. You are mine."

Draco pulled his face away from the king's grasping hand and nodded. "Yes, My Lord. But he has cared for me since I was a child. I would not see him die…" He had an idea and though it would break his heart the pain would be less than the loss of his only true family. Draco lowered his face and peered up at the king through his long pale lashes, "I would not see him die when I am supposed to be joyful, My Lord. It would put a pall on our wedding."

The king jerked back and Draco could feel Severus stiffening in outrage behind him, but he gestured for the dark man to remain silent.

Slowly the king smiled, moving back towards Draco and tipping his face up. The smile on the king's face was soft, gentle, and utterly mad as he pressed a chaste kiss against Draco's mouth. "Very well, my beloved. For you, and for a blessing on our union, I will keep the traitor alive. But to ensure your good behavior he will remain in he dungeons until the wedding."

Draco nodded, his fists clenching at his sides as the guards moved forward to flank Severus. Silently they led the man out of the room, and after another kiss, the king followed.

Once they were gone, Draco rushed forward to lock the door, then collapsed to the ground and wept. He was falling apart, his life was falling apart. He was trapped with a madman and Severus's life hung on he king's whim. Sick and panicking and nauseous, Draco curled up into a ball on the floor.

He slipped into a noxious sleep until he felt a warm calloused hand against his shoulder. Startled he pulled away, backing into the door. Opening eyes he didn't realize he has closed, Draco saw his nurse looking down on him.

"Ah, my poor darling. You are not fortunate, are you?"

Draco was confused for a moment, then it came back to him. "You know?"

Pomphrey nodded. "I heard it all from my room. Your poor father. He fell apart when Narcissa died and he has no way to put himself back together."

Draco saw the telltale shimmer of tears in the old woman's eyes and felt a rage rise up in him. "You sympathize with that lunatic? He wants to marry me? His own son!"

Thankfully the tear's in the old woman's eyes dried up and her face settled into firm lines. "Draco, Severus and I raised you better than that. The king has gone mad, yes, but that is no reason to be disrespectful."

Draco bit back a cry of shock as Pomphrey went on, "And we can't possibly make any plans while you're being hysterical."

A rush of hope filled Draco's chest for the first time since he heard Lucius's intentions. "Plans?"

The nurse nodded shortly and offered Draco her hand. He accepted it and got up off the floor.

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The castle changed over the course of only a few weeks. Though the kingdom still suffered, the inhabitants of the castle were joyous and surrounded in every luxury. Lucius had presented his son to the court, most of whom had believed the boy dead or deformed somehow. At Draco's urging the king had agreed to keep their betrothal a secret until the prince's seventeenth birthday. In preparation for their union Draco requested some specific things, in part to delay the ceremony and part in the hopes that the things he 'required' for his marriage might be impossible to obtain, thereby giving him and excuse not to go through with the ceremony.

First Draco requested a robe made form the skin of the fiercest bear in the country. It took months for a team of hunters to find the most vicious bear, and another week to trap and kill it before the skin could be removed and cured. But they succeeded and the robe was presented to the prince nine months before his birthday.

Next was a suit like the depths of the night sky. Draco thought this would be safe because the description as so vague, but the king obtained the entirety of an indigo crop an had his staff work night and day to tint the cloth to match the night sky exactly. When the suit was presented to the prince he could have wept. It was perfect. In fact he did shed one tear that he told the king was due to joy and it glittered on the fabric like a star. There were six months to go.

Next Draco requested a suit of clothes to mimic the noonday sun. This request was treated as a lark by the king. He had the suit made up of cloth of gold and sewn with threads of pure gold. It only took a few weeks to make, but Draco tried to keep this king distracted. His efforts were only partially successful and he received the golden suit three months before his birthday.

Draco knew he had to make his next request more difficult, more complicated. So, with the softest voice he could muster, he asked his father and suitor for a set of clothes that would rival the brightness of the stars in the heavens, in honor of his mother and the constellation that was his name. Lucius acquiesced, as he had with all of Draco's requests, and the work began. Suits were made and discarded by the dozens for not being exactly right, not being perfect. Lucius had all of his advisors work on it, even going so far as to consult with the imprisoned Severus Snape who refused to help and suffered mightily for it, left injured but alive in accordance with the king's orders.

Finally the suit was made and presented to the prince on the night before his birthday. In the preceding year Draco had received many presents from his father, but none so precious to him as stories about his mother. And with each story he received a token that belonged to the woman, a miniature golden spinning wheel, a tiny copper thimble, and on the night he was presented the shining suit of stars, a silver ring that the queen received from her own father when she was betrothed.

Lucius embraced his son briefly, then left him to sleep. The next day, Draco's birthday, they would be wed and then he would have his bride again.

When the king was gone from his chambers, Draco shook his head to drive away the fear and disgust he felt at the older man's hand s and called out his nurse.

"Are we prepared?"

She nodded her head. "The guards will release Severus at midnight. He knows where to go, and your exit is prepared.

Turning to the woman who had been by his side since the day he was born, Draco said, "Are you sure you want to do this, Pomphrey? He will kill you."

The woman set her hand on the prince's shoulder and smiled. "I have lived a long life, my child. I have seen you and your mother and many others into the world, and now I may help you escape this terrible fate. I have lived a good life and I will die well."

Draco felt tears press and fought them back. "You may not die. The king is not so far gone into madness."

Pomphrey smiled, but Draco could see the sorrow that traced her lips. "Yes, I may live. The king has been merciful in the past." Embracing the prince, she said, "We will meet again." She released him. "Now go. There is no time to waste. Run, and hide, and be free and joyous in the world."

Draco nodded and took the bag he had prepared with the gifts and some food. Wrapping the bearskin robe around himself, he made his way to the hidden corridor Pomphrey had discovered months before, and without looking back he ran.

There was a large forest between the kingdoms of Slytherin and Gryffindor that was declared sacrosanct by the two countries. It would provide some safety for the prince and so that is where he went. A small cave became his home and the thick bearskin his covering. For months he lived on berries and nuts and what small animals he could catch.

And so Draco lived for a year, alone in the woods. The nights were cold and frightening, but eventually he got used to the constant noise of the forest, so similar and yet so different from palace life. Sometimes he heard hunters or travelers moving through the forest, but he was intelligent and he hid, trusting to the foliage and the bearskin cloak that he never went without to hide him.

On the dawn of his eighteenth birthday he woke early to watch the sunrise. One year ago this day he fled the only home he'd ever known and he wondered now where his friends were, Severus and Pomphrey, whether they were alive. He kept them in his thoughts at all times and hoped they managed to escape his father's wrath. On that note he wondered how his father was. In the rush and terror of the king's sudden madness Draco never had the chance to get to know the man Pomphrey and Severus had befriended. They told him stories as he grew that gave his father the image of a hero, a brave and loving man who defended his family and subjects honorably. Draco mourned the loss of that man and hoped somehow Lucius would find peace.

As the vivid colors of dawn faded into a sunny blue Draco rose from his perch in a tree branch and jumped to the ground.

"Did you see that?"

The voice was a harsh whisper and Draco didn't recognize it. All he knew was that he had been seen. Pulling the cloak tighter around himself to hide his distinctive pale hair, he turned and ran for his cave. Behind him he heard horses and dogs. Why hadn't he known they were there? How could he have missed them?

Breath wheezing in his chest he ran faster, hearing the men and animals approach. As they came closer the voices were more distinctive.

"It's a bear, leave it be."

"No bear would jump from a tree like that. It's a wood elf or something."

"There's no such thing Harry. That's just a fairy story my mum told you. Leave it be before it turns and eats you."

"I can't, Ron. I can't."

Suddenly the dogs were upon him, their gnashing teeth caught in the hem of his cloak and bringing him to the ground where he landed in a puddle of thick mud. He couldn't run without leaving his cloak behind and it was the only disguise he had, so Draco stayed still. Hoping the men and their dogs would leave him be once they discovered he was not what they thought.

There was no such luck as he heard them dismount from their horses and walk closer, heavy footsteps over the dead leaves sending echoes through the dark woods.

"See Ron, I told you it wasn't a bear." the voice was gentle enough, but Draco couldn't focus. He just wanted to be left alone.

The men walked closer and one pulled back the bear skin, exposing Draco's now mud covered face and hair to the light. Draco saw a red headed man with bright blue eyes look over at a green-eyed boy.

"See Harry. It's no wood elf, just some vagrant," the red head said.

The green eyed boy walked closer, examining Draco carefully. "He's not a vagrant, Ron, and he's definitely not a bear." he smiled softly and spoke directly to Draco. "Are you alright? Did the dogs hurt you?"

Draco bit his tongue, knowing sharp words would not help him here, and shook his head.

With a sharp whistle the dogs let go of his cloak and he was able to sit up, getting his feet under him in case he had to run.

"Who are you," the green eyed boy asked.

Draco shook his head, then saw the red head's eyes narrow. Knowing his silence would not be enough this time, Draco said, "I have no name."

The two men winced at the harsh croaking sound of Draco's voice, but no more than Draco did. Had it been that long since he'd spoken?

Recovered from the shock, the green eyed boy smiled again. "Are you sure? Well, we cannot call you no one, so we must call you… Bearskin."

"Why do I need a name at all," Draco growled.

The red head stepped forward, fist held high and Draco shrank back, but before the blow could land, the green eyed boy reached forward and blocked it. "Enough, Ron." Turning back to Draco he said, "I cannot leave you here. This forest is Gryffindor country and if the border guards saw you, you would be dead."

There was no clear border line in the forest and Draco opened his mouth to argue it, then closed it again. No peasant would know about the borders, which meant the green eyed boy and his angry companion were nobles at least, and if Draco argued they might suspect his rank as well and return him to his father.

"Can I not stay here," Draco asked, his harsh voice a breathy growl.

The green eyed boy shook his head, looking almost sad. "I am sorry, but this forest is not safe. Come with us and we will find you a home and work, perhaps even clean you up a bit, eh?" He smiled, but there was still sorrow in the depths of his verdant eyes.

Draco nodded and stood to follow them. He had no weapons and he could not use his rank as a prince to argue. Once again he was carried along by fate.

Draco led the men, Ron and Harry, to his cave where he gathered up the satchel containing his belongings, the few trinkets of his mothers and the three beautiful suits his father had made. Ron made as if to look in the bag, but when Draco snarled at him Harry laughed and waved the red head away.

At Harry's insistence Draco rode behind him on a proud raven charger, the bag held between their bodies. It was a long ride and as the adrenaline of the chase wore off Draco found himself drooping over his possessions. He heard Harry and Ron speaking about the weather and the existence of wood elves, but paid their words no mind. There was no point in it now.

He was woken from his drowse as they approached a large castle. Panicking for a moment at the thought they had returned to Slytherin, Draco sighed in relief at the sight of a red and gold flag of Gryffindor. As they dismounted their horses by the stable Draco clutched his bag tighter, looking around him with wide eyes.

A giant of a man with a bristling beard came out of the stables and took the reins of Ron and Harry's horses before looking at Draco.

"Ere, Your Majesty, who's this then?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, then bit his tongue as Harry said, "This is Bearskin, Hagrid. We're going to give him a job and a place to live."

The man eyed Draco suspiciously, then his face cleared and he grinned widely. "Good job, Your Majesty. You have your mother's heart and no mistake."

Harry grinned up at the man and Draco looked at the green eyed boy more carefully. He was dressed in regular clothing, but studying him more carefully Draco now saw a small crest on his shirt sleeve and above that a small crown. This was the prince. This was the prince of Gryffindor.

Draco's urge to panic was quieted as Harry turned to him and smiled, seeming to notice his upset. Speaking quietly and in a soothing tone, Harry said, "I'm not sure where we can put you, Bearskin. Do you have any skills?"

Draco thought for a moment. As a prince he had been educated in everything under the sun, except the practicalities. He shook his head, no.

Harry looked at Ron, but the red head just snorted. "Might as well make him turn the spits. A bit of ash and coal dust won't mar his looks."

Harry narrowed his eyes before turning back to Draco, still wrapped in the bear's skin and half-covered in mud.

"Would you like that Bearskin? Would you be happy in the kitchens? I must warn you it gets hot and my cook is temperamental."

Draco considered it. The heat would be a welcome change from the often frigid temperature of the woods, and ash and soot would help him hide.

"I may keep my cloak," he asked and Harry nodded. "Then I shall do it."

And so his new career began. A large storage closet by the kitchens was cleared out and Draco took it as his own, building a bed out of old blankets and cushions. He slept in complete warmth and comfort for the first time in a year.

His duties were simple. He roamed the night, stoking the fires in the kitchens and the halls, then he was free. Later on in the day he would have to turn the great spits of the kitchen for hours, then he would be released to start fires in the residential chambers while everyone was at dinner. The kitchen staff ignored him, not with cruelty, but he was isolated all the same. The only person that truly acknowledged his presence was the prince, but Draco saw him only rarely. In the long quiet hours when he wasn't sleeping and had no duties Draco would read one of the thousands of books to be found in the libraries or sit in the corner of the kitchen and listen to the workers gossip. It was nice, comfortable in a way, and worlds away from his youth as a prince in his own right.

Things continued in this fashion for months until one day the level of excitement in the castle spiked. Draco wanted to know what was going on, but since Harry was unavailable, he had to ask one of the kitchen crew. Moving furtively he grabbed the hem of a maid's shirt. She gasped in shock when he spoke, but then told him what he wanted to know.

Harry's birthday was coming. He would be eighteen and three balls were planned. Everyone in the castle was working to prepare the palace, it's grounds, and the grand ballroom that Draco had never seen.

With that the work began. There were guests from all over the country so there were more rooms to prepare, and large meals served every day so Draco spent hours at the spit.

On the day of the first ball tragedy struck in the kitchen. Half of the staff fell sick from tainted food they purchased from a peddler. That left the head chef, Remus Lupin, enraged and cursing all peddlers and feckless workers who couldn't even be trusted to prepare their own meals. Draco watched the man round up footmen and maids and everyone he could get his hands on, and the blond was half-convinced he would have brought in Hagrid if the man only fit through the door.

Watching the otherwise easy-going cook slowly unravel, Draco did the one thing he had been avoiding.

He stepped forward.

"My Master, I can help if you need me."

He felt the cook's eyes rake over his fur covered form, taking in the ash and soot that covered any skin exposed to the light.

Still the kitchen was short staffed, and the balls could not be postponed, so the man agreed. Pomphrey taught Draco to cook when he was a child, reasoning that everyone should know something of how to care for themselves, and Draco had a soup recipe that he felt would be easy to make and of a suitable quality for the guests. He explained the recipe to Remus and the man looked interested, so Draco was left to cook with a warning that he not let any hair fall into the food.

That night Draco cooked, and helped plate the food. He wasn't allowed into the dining hall in his fur and soot, but he could prepare the trays in the kitchen.

Draco considered Harry his friend, and admired the Gryffindor prince's ability to make even the lowest scullery maid feel like an equal, and he wanted to honor the only person he considered a friend, so as the plates of soup were being prepared for the table, Draco dropped the tiny golden spinning wheel he had received into the bowl.

The food went out and Draco peered into the hall from a little used side doorway. He saw Harry and Ron and the lords and ladies of Gryffindor eat and drink in good cheer and his heart ached. They were more than master and vassals, they were friends and Draco didn't understand such a thing. He had never known anyone he could consider a friend. Pomphrey was like his grandmother, and Severus was family. No one else was ever around him long enough to know.

The kitchen staff were dismissed as the chef and his workers would be joining the nobility at the ball so Draco retired to his room. Thin moonlight trickled through the high casement window and Draco imagined he could hear the musicians. He had never been to a ball, though Pomphrey told him stories of the glitter and beauty to be found there. One night when he was a child they had Severus play the harpsichord and Draco and Pomphrey dressed in their best finery and had a ball of their own. It was a merry night as they traced the steps of the old dances in the middle of the playroom, toys and carpets pushed against the walls.

An errant ray of candlelight fell on Draco's bag and caught the shine of the fine fabrics inside. Draco opened the satchel and ran his fingers over the three suits. They had been made for the wrong reasons, but they were beautiful and had never been worn.

A spirit of mischief entered his heart and Draco took out the suit the color of the night sky and made his way to the pumphouse by the stables. Washing away the soot and ash of his work from his skin, Draco caught a glimpse of himself in the shining surface of the washtub. He was pale, no sun had touched him since he came to the castle, and his hair had grown long and soft, braided tightly at the back of his head most days. Unbraiding it Draco gasped as it fell to a shining river of silver to the middle of his back.

Pulling on the suit he felt like a ghost, like a spirit of the night. He felt beautiful. And with his heart in his throat he made his way back into the castle.

The long hallways that circled the ballroom were empty, most of the castle's inhabitants inside dancing or flirting in the few curtained off alcoves. Waiting until the room was truly full and the music playing loud and sweet, Draco entered, silently.

His eyes widened at the sight. It was amazing. Courtiers danced with maids and the fine ladies of the court with footmen. Even Hagrid was there, nodding his head along with the music. And what music it was, filling the ballroom with longing notes, like hope and lost love. Before he knew what he was doing Draco was moving across the floor and towards the band.

And if those he passed stopped their dancing and flirtations to watch the mysterious boy , he had no thought of it. All he wanted was the music. As he arrived in front of the band he grinned. Harry was there, a violin in his hands, the instrument calling out for love and passion in delicate notes.

Harry too was enraptured in the music he produced, his eyes closed and mouth pursed while his arms created the sound and his body swayed in rhythm.

When finally the song drew to a close Draco was the first and loudest to call for more, his hands sore from clapping.

Harry opened his eyes to face the audience and froze, his mouth opened as his hands fell to his sides, only habit and long training keeping him from dropping the instruments.

Passing his beloved violin to his godfather, Harry stepped down from the musician's dais and towards the blond.

Draco froze, not sure whether to run or stand his ground, but before he could make up his mind Harry was there in front of him, offering his hand.

Draco accepted it, then blushed as Harry lifted the delicate fingers to his lips and kissed the air above them lightly.

Looking up with gentle laughter in his eyes, Harry said, "I have always been told stories of the wood elves that live in my forest. Are you one of those come to dance with me on my birthday?"

Draco, unable to help himself, laughed. Heads turned at the sound but he only had eyes for the man in front of him. "My Lord, your birthday is not for two more days. Tonight is merely a precursor for the main event."

Harry grinned. "Then you will have to come the next two days, and if this is only the beginning you must become more beautiful." Playfully wincing, Harry said, "I wonder if my eyes will be able to survive such loveliness."

Draco laughed again, enjoying this new side of his friend. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, before stopping. He couldn't let Harry know who he was. Draco still didn't know if his father was looking for him, and Harry was an honorable man. If Harry knew who Draco as he would be returned to his father, and he could not allow that to happen.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Harry's sigh. Looking up at the green-eyed man again Draco saw him smile sadly. "I have bored you already, haven't I? I've been told I'm very tedious. Will you dance with me anyway?"

Laughing again Draco accepted his offer and together they swung into a gentle waltz. They danced their first dance with Draco's hand on Harry's waist and he smiled when the other prince shivered. Then it was his turn to shiver when they switched positions for the second dance and he felt the heat of Harry's palm against his lower back.

For hours they danced until Draco heard a loud bell ring, a herald of the midnight shift change for the guards. In a few hours Draco would be called on to tend the fires in the castle.

Pulling away from the prince, Draco said, "I'm sorry, I must go."

Harry looked sad for a moment, then pouted slightly and grinned. "Very well, you may go. But tomorrow night you must be more beautiful, agreed?"

Draco only laughed and took his leave.

Once he was out of sight he began running until he was out under the night sky. Rushing into the pumphouse where he had left his things, he pulled the bearskin robe back on, braided his hair away from his face, and covered his face and hands with soot.

Well hidden again Draco went about his duties with a light heart. He had been to a ball, and danced. It was something to dream about.

The next day the kitchens were full of stories about the mysterious blond who had danced with the prince but Draco didn't hear any of them, too caught in his own daydreams and the rhythm of the turning spit.

He made the soup again that night, more at the prince's request than any need of his presence as many of the sick staff members had recovered enough to return to work.

Smiling, Draco dropped the tiny thimble in the thick broth, hoping Harry would find it and like the gift.

That night as the other workers made their way to the ballroom, Draco hid, and when the coast was clear he returned to the pump house and changed into the suit made to challenge the noonday sun.

This time when he entered the ballroom he noticed the looks he was getting and blushed. He had been looked at before by Pomphrey and Severus, and later by his father, but it was not the same. These were strangers, and they admired him as though he was some beautiful thing.

The crowd parted and Draco found himself in front of Harry before he even thought to search for the green eyed prince.

"Ah, you have returned and you are indeed more beautiful, my wood elf. I fear now in truth that shall go blind tomorrow. Even today you dazzle me almost to the point of tears." Harry's words were playful, and his voice held a note of laughter that sent a shiver down Draco's spine, but his eyes were completely serious, and this time when Harry took up Draco's fingers he did not kiss the air above them but instead pressed a kiss upon the pale skin. Draco felt a breath roll over the back of his hand and closed his eyes, opening them again as Harry took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Again they spun n each other's arms until the midnight bell rang and Draco was once more reminded of his duties. This time Harry held on, trying to prevent his escape, but Draco was intent. He had to leave. He leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek, shocking the green eyed man into letting go, and fled.

Returning to his fur cloak and soot Draco smiled and hummed the waltz from the ball quietly. He spent the day in another daze, his thought only on Harry and the ball. But his thoughts took a darker turn as the day aged and he was reminded that this was the last night, the last time he would be able to dance with the boy whom he had only now realized took up so much space in his heart.

His chest heavy Draco went about making the soup and before it was taken out of the kitchen, he set his mother's silver ring in the bottom of the bowl.

As the kitchen emptied again, Draco allowed himself a few brief moments to grieve. This was the last night he would be a prince. Once he left the ball tonight he would destroy the three suits and become Bearskin forevermore.

Resolved, he went to the pumphouse and changed. He took extra pains to be more beautiful as he dressed in his suit that rivaled the stars in the skies. His hair flowed like pure water down his back, and the silver light of his clothes was rivaled by the shine of his eyes.

When he entered the hall it seemed as though most of the dancers had been waiting for him because the crowd gasped as one. This time, instead of his going to Harry, the prince came to him and without words led him onto the dance floor.

In silence they danced for hours, their hands absorbing the warmth of each other's bodies. There were no jokes tonight, no harmless flirting. This was the third night, this was Harry's birthday, this was the end.

As the bell rang, Draco pulled away. As he did he noticed a shimmer from Harry's hand and pulled it closer. The ring was on his finger, and when he saw it Draco felt tears well up in his eyes.

Before they could fall he fled the ballroom and hid in the pump house, to weep until he fell asleep.

He was woken hours later by a roaring voice. Peering out of the pump house he saw Hagrid calling for his stable boys, most of whom appeared to have over indulged the night before in honor of the prince. Draco stepped towards the door, reaching for the latch before he gasped. His hand was still pale. Looking down he saw he was still clad in the shining suit, his hair unbound and his skin bare to the world. He had fallen asleep without changing, and any moment someone would come searching for him.

Hurriedly tying back his hair and throwing the cloak on over his clothes, Draco pulled the hood down low over his face, hoping to hide himself until he could get to his room.

He made it across the courtyard and into the kitchen before he was stopped.

"Bearskin, where have you been? The fire in the audience chamber has died and the prince and his advisors are cold."

Draco nodded, too frightened to talk or look up into the chef's face.

"Well, go tend it."

Draco froze. He had to change, he had to hide, but the cook's voice brooked no argument and Draco nodded, reaching out with the hem of his cloak to pick up the coal scuttle.

Holding it close to his robes he rushed out of the room, thinking only to stoke the embers and leave but that was not to be. The prince's council was in session, each man wrapped in heavy robes. Draco kept his head down as one of them approached him.

"Hey there you, we are freezing in here from your laziness."

Another interrupted, "Now then, he is just tired. Last night's celebration was excitement enough the exhaust all of us."

The first again, "Celebration? Hardly. I would bet he has gotten into the wine."

Draco felt the man approach and froze. Then he heard other footsteps and a feeling of anticipation filled the air around him.

"Leave him be, Jenkins. He is tending the fires as is his duty, and you are to be serving the prince."

Draco held his breath. It was Severus. He did not know whether to fall to the floor in a dead faint, or embrace the man and weep into his robes. Stuck, he just stoked the fire, slowly so he could hear what was being discussed.

After Severus rejoined the table, Draco heard him mumble something.

Harry replied, "It was a gift. I found it in my soup last night. There were two other tokens on the previous nights. I expect the servants banded together to surprise me for my birthday."

"May I see the ring closer, my lord," Severus asked, and Draco held his breath but the man said nothing, only hummed quietly.

"May I have it back, Severus? I believe I have a rather sentimental attachment to it," the king said and Draco smiled under the deep shadow of his hood.

The fire was burning brightly and with no further excuse to stay in the room Draco moved towards the door.

"Bearskin."

Draco heard Harry's call and turned sharply. He felt the hood move but his hands were full of the coal scuttle and shovel and before he could do anything the hood fell and he was exposed.

The prince's mouth dropped open, along with most of his advisors, but Draco felt only a hot rush of humiliation in his cheeks. Dropping the coal scuttle to the ground with a heavy crash he turned and ran out of the hall. His robe was heavy and the weight of it wrapped around his ankles. More concerned with getting away than being discovered, Draco released he clasp and let it fall to the ground, exposing the shining suit.

He ran through the kitchen and out the door into the courtyard, but before he could get any further he was stopped by a giant figure, Hagrid.

Pushing against the man's chest and weeping Draco demanded to be let go, but Hagrid would not move. Eventually, exhausted, Draco collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and flinched away, but the grip was insistent and seeing no other choice Draco gave in and looked up. Before him as Harry, smiling with tear filled eyes, and behind him, Severus Snape.

"Is that you, my Bearskin? Are you my wood elf?"

Draco nodded, wiping the tears roughly from his cheeks and rising to his feet with Hagid's help. Once he regained his footing he bowed to Harry, then again to Severus.

"I am Draco Malfoy, my Lord, Prince of Slytherin. Do with me as you will."

Laughing Harry rushed forward and took Draco in his arms, kissing him chastely on the lips. "And if I say I will have you forever, my Bearski--Draco?"

Draco looked from Harry to Severus. "But I-- my father?"

The dark advisor smiled slightly, or perhaps the habitual shadow of irritation and sorrow lightened from his face for a moment as he said, "Your father is dead, Draco. His council betrayed him, but in the moment before he died he regained himself and declared you free and safe."

Draco looked for the truth in Severus's eyes and saw it.

"And Pomphrey?"

"She has passed, but she died well. She told the king nothing, saying only that she loved you and your mother and wished for you to be happy."

Draco felt tears rise in his eyes to match those of Severus and Harry, and with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Gryffindor he pulled the advisor close and embraced him.

Standing in the midst of the man he had grown to love and the one he considered his true father, Draco felt hope burst in his heart. He missed Pomphrey, and the parents he never truly knew, but he would meet them again someday. Now he had Severus and Harry, and Harry was wearing his ring.

"You know you should return that, Harry," he said, smiling.

The Gryffindor prince only grinned back and said, "I cannot do that, my wood elf. It was a birthday gift. But I shall give you another in exchange on the day we wed if you so desire."

"I so desire," Draco said, and pulled Harry into a kiss that held all of the love and potential he held in his heart.

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Note: Okay, if I tell you all that it took me an entire day to write this story, despite the fact that someone else had written it before me and I was just adapting the plot, would you believe me? Because it is very true.

This is the first in a series of slash fan fictions based on classic fairy tales. Each chapter is self-contained and complete, and I have no idea how many there will be.

If you enjoyed it, please let me know. I like reviews. They give me a happy… in the pants.