Dragon Hunt

Draco awoke to pain. So much pain he screamed and howled and recognized his own voice as not entirely human. He screamed until his voice cracked and there was nothing but air escaping his abused throat. He felt as if he were being torn into little scraps from the inside out.

His father asked him questions, made demands, most of which he couldn’t focus on through the pain, but the pain continued. He couldn’t tell how long it was going on. He didn’t know how long his father had been torturing him. It hurt so badly. It had been hours or years, he could no longer tell.

“It is foolish to weaken him,” a familiar voice commented dryly after some time. The attack stopped and Draco wished that it meant the pain stopped as well, but instead it turned to a dull burning ache that settled in his chest.

“Did you bring what I asked?” Lucius asked, not even dignifying Snape’s comment with a response. Draco wished against all hope that he could just turn over and see his godfather, see his godfather and know that all was not lost. But he was bound magically and couldn’t summon the strength to even feign a struggle against the bonds.

“Yes. I have brought the most powerful controlling potions one can make without being immediately detectable or having permanent repercussions.”

“I could care less about permanent repercussions at this point, Severus,” Lucius snapped, taking the potions from his ‘friend.’ Draco heard the bottles clink against eachother.

“By permanent repercussions, I mean death, Lucius. And presenting the Dark Lord with a dead dragon would be worse than presenting him with no dragon at all, I believe.” Lucius grunted his agreement. “What progress have you made with him?” Snape asked casually.

Lucius growled. “None. He refuses to cooperate. Worse yet, he claims to have switched sides. He claims to work for the Order of the Phoenix, though I think he’s making that claim just to spite me. He will not provide the name of any member, not even his own contact to the organization!”

Snape nodded emotionlessly. He stared down at his godson lying crumpled bonelessly on the stone floor of the tower room. He could be dead if it weren’t for the ragged breathing he was doing. Snape couldn’t help but feel pride in his strength. He didn’t think he would have been able to maintain himself through the treatment it was apparent he had been receiving.

He watched Lucius again cast the cruciatus curse on his own son and almost shuttered. “Try the potion,” he reminded, feeling his own physical relief when the curse was lifted from Draco. Lucius took the potion bottle from where he had placed it and ducked down beside his practically lifeless son.

Draco felt himself being dragged into a sitting position by his hair. The pain of his straining follicles hardly even registered in comparison of the broken bones and abused muscles that permeated the rest of his body. The potion tasted horrible and burned in his throat, but he couldn’t summon the strength to fight against swallowing it.

He coughed to clear himself of the remnants as his father dropped him back to the hard surface. He could barely focus on the world around him. But then he heard the crash, felt the pressure of the house change.

“The wards have been broken,” Lucius said tightly. Draco listened. Distantly he heard his mother’s voice shouting orders. “Take care of hit!” Lucius commanded. Snape bowed and exited.

Draco felt his hair being tugged. This time, he was pulled to his feet. Draco could feel the potion coursing through him. He could barely keep his feet underneath him as Lucius dragged him up a narrow, winding staircase. The potion was turning his very blood to fire. Draco had never been here. He didn’t know where this would lead him. Finally, they reached an empty room. Draco recognized this: a tower room built above the rest of the manor.

Draco crumpled onto the floor as his father released his hair. He spit blood that had collected in his mouth. “I must be even more valuable than I thought,” Draco teased.

“So the Order has come for you?! To them you’re a tool, a means to win this war. You’re my son!” Lucius shouted.

“And not too long ago, you spoke of me as the Dark Lord’s pet,” Draco said.

“I am still your family! Your only family!”

“I have something more important than family,” Draco said.

Lucius laughed. “Please don’t say love? Please don’t claim that you’re doing this for love?”

“And if I am?” Draco spat. He dragged himself to his feet, unable to figure where he found the energy.

Lucius laughed. “Oh gods! My son fancies himself in love? Who? Who are you claiming to love? That mud-blood Granger? Please don’t tell me the blood-traitor little Weasley!”

It was Draco’s turn to laugh. “It’s worse than that, Father. I’m in love with Harry Potter. He is my mate. My mate, Father. You know of dragons and their mates? Or did you look only to the benefits having a dragon to present to the Dark Lord?”

The rage in his father’s eyes made Draco cringe, prepare. He watched for Lucius to raise his wand, but it never happened. Lucius was so angry that he physically charged his son.



Harry flattened himself to the ground and dropped his wand dodging an unfortunately familiar green blast. He looked up seeing Narcissa Malfoy standing over him with her wand pointed. He fumbled to regain his wand as she began to cast, but he needn’t worry. Narcissa fell as a spell hit her in the back.

Snape pulled Harry to his feet and wordlessly pointed down the corridor he had just come from. Harry listened to a battle raging around him. He walked through marble corridors seeking one thing and only one thing: his mate. The pull was strong, he could feel him even if he couldn’t hear the sound. Draco was here. He was close and soon, Harry would have him.

Harry stopped in his own thoughts. He could believe the way he was thinking. He wasn’t an animal and he wouldn’t forget the fact he had feelings, as did Draco. The dragon in Draco was making Harry act like an animal, an animal in search of its mate, but Harry refused to be pulled into that power.

He needed to know that what he was feeling for the blond was for the blond and not the silvery beast he could become. And he needed to know that it was the blond and not just the beast that wanted him.

Still, he needed to find him. He needed to find the man he loved.

Harry allowed the pull he felt drag him through the white marble corridors and up winding staircases. And then faintly, he began to hear it. That sad, beautiful hum that he adored. It was so faint, but it was real and Harry almost cried with relief. His Draco was alive. And then he also heard the crash and the panicked edge returned. Harry ran as fast as he could up those stairs. And when he reached the top, there was Draco, standing over a crumpled body, a body that looked eerily like Draco’s own.

He looked so weak, so wounded. He held his arm awkwardly pulled to his naked chest. He was coated in bruises and blood. Harry ached just seeing him. He wanted, needed to wrap his arms around his mate. But the purr was panicked and lost. It wasn’t even faintly human at the time.

“Draco?” Harry asked tentatively. Draco was backed against the wall, terror and pain in his eyes. He was shaking and the panicked shriek was deafening. “Draco?” Harry asked again. Instinctively, Harry reached out. He wanted nothing more than to pull Draco into his arms and never let him go.

Harry reached out, his hand hovering just above the warm skin of his mate when Draco flinched away. “Don’t touch me!” he screamed, running towards the window. “Not now,” he muttered to himself.

“Draco, no!” Harry screamed, but it was too late. Draco had launched himself from the window. Harry rushed forward and saw the most beautiful sight: a silver dragon soaring through the sunrise.

Harry watched for a long moment, finding himself smiling at the beauty of the sight before him. “Draco!” he called. Hoping, against all hope, that Draco would come back to him. He watched the silver dragon circle downwards awkwardly floating in the air. The dragon was wounded and Harry cringed as he watched and prayed that he would safely land. And then the silver dragon hit the ground roughly and shrank to a white speck far below Harry.

Harry spun quickly and leaped over the dead body of Lucius Malfoy before practically flying without a broom through the sterile white marble of Malfoy manor. He let that pull he’d been feeling tug him towards Draco, and it led him through tall French doors and onto a gravel walkway. He could see Draco sitting in the shadow of a weeping willow. He was hunched over, staring at his clasped hands and Harry assumed that the pale blond was completely unaware that he was naked. Harry smiled at the scene. Even wounded as he was, Draco was tantalizing.

But now was not the time to perv on his mate. He took the fork of the path that would have him approach Draco from behind. Harry undid his robes and tugged them from his body, leaving him clad in jeans and a thin cotton t-shirt. He saw Draco stiffen up. Harry changed his pace and approached him slowly. He watched as Draco’s fingertips wrapped themselves around the edge of the bench tightly, as if forcing himself to stay there or trying to become part of the bench. Gently, Harry dropped his robe over the ivory shoulders, taking the tempting flesh from view.

Draco relaxed slightly and pulled the robe around him. He slid his arms through the sleeves and quickly did up the buttons to close it before he pulled his legs up underneath it and hugged his knees to his chest. Harry sat down beside Draco, facing the opposite direction. He wanted to wrap his arms around Draco and never let go, but something was wrong. “Please don’t be sad,” Harry pled. The silence stretched on forever.

“I murdered my father, Harry,” Draco said softly.

“You were strong and defended yourself,” Harry countered.

“I told him everything,” Draco muttered as he sniffled. “I told him that I would never willingly join his Master. I told him about my hatred for Voldemort and Deatheaters. I told him that I had been spying and that I would continue. I told him that if I didn’t do these things, I would be betraying my mate and he asked what a betrayal of family was in comparison. I told him it was nothing. Family was nothing in comparison to my mate. I—“

“Draco,” Harry interrupted. Draco wiped his nose with the sleeve of his borrowed robe and pulled himself into a tighter ball. Harry raised his hand, palm towards Draco, letting it stay in the air. “Touch me,” he said softly.

“You know I can’t,” Draco whispered harshly, even as he raised a hand to hover less than an inch from Harry’s.

“I want you to choose to be with me, Draco,” Harry said.

Draco laughed lightly. “I want you in any way you’d have me, Harry, but I don’t want your pity. I refuse to be pitied. I refuse to win my mate through pity. I would sooner die.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Harry said softly. “And I do not pity you. You don’t need it. You deserve to be proud. You stood up to your father. You fought him and you—“

“Please don’t.”

Harry pulled back his outstretched hand and swallowed tightly as he racked his brain for what to say. “I’ve never had a father. Not one I remember really. And while you may not have agreed with your father’s choices and lifestyle, he raised you and because of that, there must be a certain amount of love and respect you held for him. I can’t imagine having to kill anyone I had felt that for.” Draco nodded. “But don’t you dare feel guilty for doing what he forced upon you. It was him or you and I for one am happy that you are the survivor.”

“One less supporter of the Dark Lord,” Draco spat coldly.

“No,” Harry said. “His death meant your life and therefore one person in this world that I love with the whole of my being.” He raised his hand again, putting it to hover near Draco’s. He could feel the warmth of the dragon, though not the skin. Draco wouldn’t meet his eye. Draco was staring at their two hands, floating only a breath apart. “There’s no going back,” Harry said.

Draco shrugged. “That’s been the case for quite awhile now, for me at least. Harry, I know you don’t want to make the decision, but it is yours to make. Touch me, or don’t, but please . . .” he begged quietly, his velvety voice cracking. Draco finally looked up to meet Harry’s gaze. “Please put me out of the misery of not knowing if I will live in completeness or die of a broken heart.”

“I have a war to fight,” Harry whispered. The familiar rumble became even sadder.

“I will fight it at your side,” Draco vowed. As he said those words, Harry pushed his hand forward, dropping his fingers to lace through Draco’s. The dragon’s purr changed so quickly and so dramatically, Harry couldn’t focus on the sound to describe it. He was too distracted by the way his very skin began to hum. From the point of contact, radiating outward, the most delicious feeling overcame him. “Gods, Draco,” he breathed, unable to find his actual voice.

“Harry,” the dragon purred. He felt so warm, so comfortingly warm. His entire body tingled. “I—“ Harry leaned forward, their foreheads rested against each other. Their breath mingled. That beautiful sound, that heavenly purr was like a joyous song within his very soul.


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