A Dragon's Love

CHAPTER ONE

Everyone thought it was a shame that such a handsome, virile man such as Draco Malfoy was wasting his time in the dungeons. For ten years now, he had replaced Severus Snape as the Potions Master. By no means had he languished. Unlike the former Professor, Malfoy was still as devastatingly good looking as he had been since he had taken the position, with moonlight fair skin, silver-blonde hair cascading upon his black-clad manly shoulders, and cloud-cast gray eyes that revealed little of his emotions. Still, he was now thirty years old- in his prime, and all the women in the Wizarding World were becoming desperate.

Draco Malfoy was considered a prime catch; the most eligible bachelor of all eligible bachelors. After Harry Potter had finally married Ginny Weasley, and Ronald Weasley had finally gotten some sense into his brain and asked Hermione Granger to marry him, there was only Malfoy left to hope for. And what female with an active libido could resist the blonde wizard? He had a cloak of mystique, an aura of danger, a hint of tragedy in those silver eyes. He had mountains of Galleons stacked away. Every witch old enough (and many younger) to marry sent him piles of chocolates, stacks of presents, thousands upon thousands of letters expressing their love daily, all hoping to be the one woman who could change his mind.

What these witches didn't realize was that Draco Malfoy wasn't looking for love. He wasn't even stolidly refusing love. Draco Malfoy had experienced love; in fact he was still hopelessly under it's spell. He was resigned to his fate, and accepted the fact that he wasn't going to recieve love in return from the one woman he had feelings for.

At the moment, the Potions Master was in his private rooms, settling and going over the lesson plans he had planned for the upcoming semester when Minerva McGonnagall, the Headmistress' cat appeared. In it's mouth, the cat held a piece of parchment. The black cat dropped it at Draco's feet, rubbing against his leg momentarily before disappearing. With a sigh, he picked it up, unscrolled the parchment, and read the words that the Headmistress had written.

To all the Staff Members,
This is to notify everyone that there will be a meeting tonight after dinner, regarding the upcoming year.

The letter was signed with her usual fastidious, swift signature. Draco checked the clock. It was eleven o' clock in the morning. He wondered what this staff meeting would bring forth. Little did the Potions Master suspect that the entire day would change his life significantly.

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The rest of the morning, Draco spent reminiscing his years at Hogwarts. It was a wonderful summer afternoon, for September was just beginning to settle over the atmosphere, giving a hint of cool breeze to the otherwise heated day. He felt the air caress his silken hair, and a faint smile crossed his aristocratic features.

Years had changed Draco much, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He was no longer the whiny little brat, overindulged and narrow-minded, with servants to grant his every wish. Life had taken Draco Malfoy by the hand, and thrown him overboard. He had learned that all his beliefs were not fact based. He had learned that his father was a cruel man, with only evil intentions and opinions created by ignorance to back him up. He'd experienced love at its most pure and terrifying. He'd had his heart broken, his body ravaged, his mind tormented by self doubt. And so, molded from all this was a mature man encased in an invisible layer of ice.

He missed Flora. She had been his first love- his only love. He could still remember her delicate beauty, her shimmering smile as fragile and overpowering as this summer day. Flora Danbury had been his strength, his sunlight. But she had not had the same feelings as he, and Draco had given in gracefully. Often, he wondered what might have happened if he hadn't, but Draco dashed the thoughts away, knowing it was futile. So Draco simply let fate take it's course, and lived within the cold dungeons, leading a singular, oftentimes lonely existence.

As if the wind had heard his unspoken wish, a lovely tawny owl flew to him, laying upon his outstretched hand a creamy white envelope. Draco immediately recognized the owl as Flora's, and took it from the creature, giving it an owl treat from the pouch he carried around for that purpose. With a little hoot of thanks, it flew away into the blue skies, it's responsibility finished.

He opened the envelope, which was heavy- obviously stored with pictures. Smiling momentarily at the moving, color filled photographs Flora had sent, Draco then turned the the gold monogrammed letter.

Dear Draco,
I take quill in hand to write you a greeting, as well as to reprimand you. I haven't seen you for ages, you big prat! (Draco chuckled at that bit.) The children miss you very much, and little Arielle wants to know why "Unka Dwake is neva here." However, I don't suppose I need to remind you that this year Angelique will be entering Hogwarts. It is with a mixture of pride and apprehension that I send her off. Please watch over her. As of late, she has been going off on a rebellious streak, and the only person she's willing to listen to is you. You know how she always looked upon you as her especial guardian. Just make sure Angelique doesn't get into anything stupid. I miss you. Come over for dinner one day! I'll make your favorite meal.
Love,
Flora

With a slightly trembling hand, Draco put the letter into the pocket of his immaculate black teaching robes. No, he wasn't over Flora at all, he thought, a grimness approaching his pure silver eyes. *I will never be rid of her.* Draco heaved his breath. He'd better stock up on some supplies. He'd go to Diagon Alley today. His steps sure, his face immobile as ever, Draco left.

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"Merlin take him!" the woman cursed, as a tall figure pushed past her roughly, making her drop all the parcels she was carrying. She would have said a lot worse if there hadn't been innocent children around, but as there were, she decided she'd shut her lip and continue on the maledictions in the safe contours of her brain. Helena Simmons brushed away the dark strands of hair that covered her view, glaring at the man who was walking swiftly away, not even bothering to apologize.

"If I wasn't so darned busy, I'd start something," Helena yelled at the swiftly moving silver-blond head. Damn the man but she'd noticed he'd had a very cute bum. A gust of breath left her as she scrambled around picking up the plastic bags and wrapped packages she'd bought. It was mostly textbooks for her classroom, but she'd purchased a few knick-knacks here and there to decorate her own chambers.

A determined smile lit up Helena's face. At twenty six years old, Helena Simmons was not beautiful, but pretty damn close. Her hair fell in a rich sable curtain around her face without bangs or curls to deter the eye from her pretty, heart-shaped face. With eyes the shade of cerulean, a pert little nose, and bow-shaped lips, Helena looked almost angelic. However, nothing could be further from the truth. In that little, lithe five four frame, and innocent face, Helena concealed a fierce nature, which, coupled with keen intelligence and perseverance had kept her alive for her entire life.

For she wasn't an average witch. Behind that carefully composed smile and cool exterior, Helena had a scarred past. She had never known her parents, them obviously having been killed by Death Eaters. Growing up in the houses of many foster families, constantly being removed because of her awkwardness and troublesome nature, Helena was full of insecurities. Her life had only started once she had entered Hogwarts, where she finally found out that she was a witch, with magical abilities. It was found that Helena excelled in all her subjects, being naturally talented as well as her sheer determination to do well. After graduating, Helena had turned to Auror work, dedicating herself with fighting off the Death Eaters that still remained after the Final War had ended. She had rejoiced when Harry Potter emerged victorious, feeling somewhat as if her parents and all the other victims had been avenged. Killing off or imprisoning the leftovers gave her a sense of retribution. But soon, all of that had faded away. There was nothing left to fight for, no more glory to seek. Yet, there was still an emptiness in Helena, a hollowness she wanted to fulfill. She turned to teaching, returning to Hogwarts- the haven of her childhood. Luckily, there had been a position open for her in the field of Transfiguration. The earlier professor had retired recently, and Helena had been excited to take the job, which paid enough for her circumstances.

She knew she would do her job well. There was no doubt about that. If only she knew what this ache in her heart meant... and why it troubled her so.