My Beautiful Dragon

A/N Narcissa and Draco Malfoy are quite out of character in this chapter. That's how I wrote them and how I want them, so no complaining.
Thanks again to Naycit my wonderful beta.

Enter the Dragon


Draco Malfoy sat on the cold, damp, stone floor of his cell deep inside Malfoy Manor. He’d lost all concept of time and wasn’t even sure what day it was. He felt like he’d been there for months, years even. At least it gave him time to think. That was all he’d been doing lately: thinking… mainly about ‘Potter’ and how he couldn’t get that vision of the smaller lad lying face-down on the mud with cuts all over his body out of his head.

But there was another reason Potter was in his head constantly: because the last year Draco had seen his nemesis in a whole new light. The Gryffindor had become more confident, more muscular, more toned, tanned, and sexy. His smile could light up the dark sky, and those eyes... Draco shuddered at the thought. How those eyes pierced his soul and broke down every defense mechanism within him… How those eyes pleaded Draco to help him when Voldemort raised his wand to shoot the Killing Curse. Draco had held on to that look and prayed he’d never see it again.

Yeah, he had to admit it; he’d fallen for the Golden Boy himself. He knew he stood no chance whatsoever of ensnaring him, because it was obvious that Potter hated him, but even that wasn’t clear in Draco’s mind right now. He would have to try and stay focused, and Harry would have to take up residence in the back of his mind for the time being. He had more serious things to wrack his brain over, like finding an escape route out of the dungeon, and also, try to find a way to reverse the curse his sick, evil father had left him with as a reminder of his betrayal.

Draco snorted as he remembered his father’s cold words. “You little traitor. How dare you tarnish the Malfoy name by running off to help Potter! Who the fuck do you think you are? If the dark Lord wasn’t dead, I’d gladly let him kill you,” he spat.

Draco didn’t automatically help Potter; he hadn’t set out to rescue him, which was not his intention. He’d been there alongside his father and the Death Eaters but was too much of a damn coward to kill anyone. He could see Harry out there fighting for his life and still standing. Draco had seen a few of Harry’s friends tumble to the ground. As he was telling his father he’d injured the Creevey kid and a few Hufflepuffs, he saw it. He turned around to see Longbottom trying to shield someone. Draco raised his wand, as did his father and the rest of Voldemort’s followers, then the Killing Curse was fired. That was when he noticed who it was that Longbottom was shielding, and at that moment, he turned his wand towards the advancing Death Eaters. As Neville slumped to the ground, Draco yelled the Killing Curse in Voldemort’s direction. He hadn’t noticed Harry had also raised his wand and shouted the Killing Curse.

Time seemed to stand still, and no one moved except Draco, who ran towards the fallen Gryffindors and stooped over Harry.

“Potter, Potter, come on, you have to move. POTTER!” Before Draco could see if Harry was alright, he was forcefully dragged away and Apparated to his home then thrown painfully into the dungeon. He remembered it only too well.

His cell was cold and damp, and the only light was from a small barred, glassless window, which was too high to climb up out of the dungeon. He wrapped his arms around his legs and drew them up to his chest, trying to keep the dampness from his body. He wondered how Potter was. Was he dead? Did the smaller boy even hear Draco calling out to him? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the dungeon door being thrown open and footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Draco was on his feet in seconds, not wishing to be caught dreaming by his visitor.

“Father, I…” He never got time to finish his sentence. Lucius Malfoy was seething with rage when he opened his son’s cell door. He threw himself at the younger lad and beat him so hard Draco thought Lucius would kill him.

“You two-faced, Muggle loving, selfish traitor,” Lucius roared as he pounded the boy’s face and torso,”Never, ever, will you humiliate me or this family like that again. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BOY?” Draco whimpered from behind his hands, which he had covering his face to stop his father’s advancing fists connecting with his nose. Just when he thought Lucius was going to kill him, the beating stopped. Draco chanced a look between his fingers and heard his father muttering something under his breath, a cruel smirk tugging at the edges of his lips, and eyes as cold as the first snow of winter. Draco moved his hands and attempted to stand up. His legs gave way, and he slumped to the floor again with a groan. His father found this amusing.

“F…father, what are you doing?” Draco asked nervously.

“I am NOT your father, Draco. I don’t want a traitor for a son. You will stay hidden down here indefinitely, and hopefully, rot away to nothing as you so rightly deserve.” Lucius’s voice was even colder than before, if that was possible. He looked at his son squirm on the floor as the spell worked its magic and could see him change before his very eyes. Once he was sure the spell had worked, he approached Draco slowly and with caution. “How exceedingly fitting for a traitor.” Lucius smirked. “Now, a few rules.”

Draco lifted his head from his hands (or what used to be hands) and fixed his eyes on the person before him.
“You will remain here, like I said before, indefinitely. During daylight hours you will live as your human-self, but from dusk till sunrise, you will live as this beast in front of me. It’s no more than you deserve. The only way you will be free from this spell is by sheer chance, or luck, by finding your soul mate and sharing your first kiss to seal the bond. And quite frankly, it looks like you’ll be like this forever as no one will want to fall in love with a traitor. It has to be unconditionally too, so I can safely say Malfoy Manor will have its own resident four legged Dragon to guard the premises. Oh, and don’t worry about Potter; he’s been taken care of. Goodnight, Draco. Sweet dreams.” And with a loud laugh echoing on the walls, Lucius left the dungeon with his robes swirling behind him.

Draco stretched and shook his head, as if that would block out the thoughts he’d just had. His body ached from lying on the floor night after night, day after day. He didn’t find it uncomfortable being ‘the Dragon’; as a matter of fact, he’d adjusted to it fairly well. But waking up in the morning was sore until he could stretch his weary muscles. He reckoned he’d been down there for about three weeks. His only visitor was his father, bringing food and water and, occasionally, casting a quick cleaning spell so Draco wouldn’t rot from his own odour. He always left with a sneer and a shake of his head. No words were ever spoken between them during the short visits.

When the dungeon door flew open this time, Draco didn’t even look up. He was stunned to hear his mother’s gentle voice.

“Draco… Draco love!” Draco’s eyes were wide in shock. He slowly got up from the floor and crossed the dirty cell to peer through the bars. Words could not describe the way he felt at that moment, seeing his mother, lost, tormented, torn and broken, and it was all because of him. Draco held his breath wondering what his father had bullied her into. His eyes met his Mother’s and didn’t leave them until he heard a key turning in the lock of his cell.

“M…Mother? Wh-what’s happening? What are you here for? Did he send you here? Did..?” Draco never got time to finish his last sentence. Narcissa had placed a long, slender finger on his lips and gently wrapped her arms around her son.

“Oh, Draco… my beautiful Draco. What has he done to you?” Her eyes glazed with unshed tears. Although Narcissa Malfoy was a proud and elegant woman, Draco could see the change in her features. Her eyes were no longer sparkling blue; they looked dead. Her long, flowing, blonde hair looked dull and unkempt, and even her body looked frail. “I’ve been so worried about you, Draco. Your father forbade me to see you, but he’s gone at the moment. He went to visit your aunt Bella and will not be returning for a few days. I have to speak with you, Draco. Will you listen to what I have to say? I just feel so guilty and useless, sitting up there unable to help. I can’t live with the guilt anymore. I love you, son… so much that it hurts.”

Draco loosened his arms from his mother’s slender waist and nodded, directing her to sit down beside him. There was a moment’s silence before Narcissa spoke again.

“Draco, I have a plan to get you out of here. No, let me finish,” she added as Draco tried to interrupt. “With Lucius gone, it’s your ideal chance to escape. If he questions me, well, I know nothing. I mean, it’s not as if I’ll be leaving the cell or dungeon door unlocked so you can walk straight out of the house. No, Draco, you have to do this on your own. I’m sending a letter to Professor Dumbledore along with your wand and explaining everything that has happened. You will return to Hogwarts and lie low in the Forbidden Forest for a few days until it’s safe to return to school. Dumbledore will get a message to you somehow.” She stopped to take a breath, so Draco cut in.

“But, Mother, forgive me for my ignorance. If you are going to lock the fuckin’ cell and dungeon door, how the hell are you helping me to escape?”

“Language, Draco. It’s bad enough when your father uses it, and you’re too polite for that sort of language.” Draco looked down at the floor with a slight flush creeping up to his cheeks. “You’re intelligent enough to work that part of the plan out for yourself, Draco.”

All she got in return was a confused look from her son. He had no idea what she meant. “Oh, for the love of Merlin, Draco! You have been transformed into a Dragon. What are Dragons’ famous for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

A small smile crept up at the corner of Draco’s lips as it finally dawned upon him. “Breathing fire and…and flying… Oh, Mother, you are a genius.” Draco hugged his mother tightly, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Draco was laughing. His happiness was soon overshadowed, though, as he thought about Harry and being able to see him again, even if it was only from a distance.

“Mother, I…I have to tell you something and I hope it won’t change your mind about letting me leave.” Narcissa nodded for Draco to continue. “I…I think, no, I know I’m… I’m queer, Mother.”
“Queer?” Narcissa asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I mean… I’m not like others…”
“I know that—”

“I’m not like other men!” he finished. “I… I have other… p-preferences…”
“P-preferences?” Narcissa asked, appalled.
“To make it worse, it’s Harry bloody Potter who is the object of my desires. I had a slight inclination at a young age that I was erm…different, but it came to the surface at the Yule Ball in my Fourth year when Pansy Parkinson was my partner for the night. I had no interest in her whatsoever and spent most of my time staring at Harry dancing with that Patil girl. I felt so jealous I was so close to dragging her from his arms and telling him there and then. But I was so scared, Mother, so scared he would laugh in my face, because I’ve had it programmed into my head that I have to hate him. He’s the enemy, the saviour of the Wizarding world.”

There was a long silence. Draco became aware of tears streaming down his cheeks, another thing to add to his list of failures. Malfoys DON’T cry or show any emotion at all. Well, they weren’t supposed to, but Draco was a teenager, and right at this moment his emotions were getting the best of him, so he let the tears fall. “I never hated him, Mother. I…I love him,” he choked out.

Narcissa watched Draco sobbing for a moment then gently lifted his chin to meet her eyes.

“Then you go and win his heart, Draco. I’m sure he will let you talk to him and explain how Lucius has drummed it into you to hate the lad. He’ll understand. Harry doesn’t have a bad bone in that body of his, and the only reason you’ve come across like that is because it was force-fed to you since you were a child. I think that underneath his disguise is a lonely young lad who just wants to be loved for who he is, not what he is. Go and get Harry Potter, Draco, you have my approval.”

Draco couldn’t believe what his mother was saying. He couldn’t believe she just took it in like that. However, there was something more worrisome troubling his mind at the moment. “But what if he hates me? I…I don’t even know if he died that night. I couldn’t stay around to find out. Five years of taunts and malicious abuse is too much to forgive, Mother. He may never want to speak to me ever again, let alone once, to apologise. I have a really empty feeling inside me, and I’m scared…yeah, a Malfoy showing fear,” he joked with a smirk.

“He’s alive, Draco. Your father has talked non-stop about how you saved Harry and you are responsible for the wretch still walking the earth. His words not mine,” she added with her hands raised, “and I think he’ll need you right now. After all, you saved his life, Draco. You are his saviour now, while he’s still the Boy Who Lived… again.”
She stroked Draco’s cheek, wiping away the tears, and softly spoke in his ear. “I think he’ll forgive you, son. Now, I’m going to go back upstairs. Think about what I said, Draco, and if it’s what you want to do, I’ll be back before dusk to say goodbye.”

Draco stood and walked with Narcissa to the cell door and kissed her softly on the cheek before whispering, “I love you, Mother, and thank you,” in her ear. He was alone once more; the only sound was his heartbeat thumping loudly in his chest. His mind was reeling with everything his mother had told him, and all he could think about was how stupid he’d been.

“A Dragon… a sodding Dragon! I could have escaped ages ago. Aargh, Draco, you can be so fuckin’ thick at times!” he muttered to himself.
Normally, he would eat at this time, but his adrenaline was pumping, and the thought of food made him feel a bit queasy. He retreated to his makeshift bed on the floor and wrapped his cloak around himself. A flicker of a smile graced his pale face as he thought out loud, “I’m coming for you, Harry. I hope you will accept my hand of friendship this time. I…I need you.” Slowly closing his eyes, he remembered how Harry had turned down his offer to be friends all those years ago at Madam Malkin’s robe shop. Hopefully, this time it would be different.

Sometime later, Draco heard the door to his cell open again. He had no recollection of falling asleep, but he must have drifted off at some point, as he noticed the sun beginning to sink in the sky and the dizzy feeling returning, meaning he would be changing again fairly soon.

“What have you decided, son?” his mother asked as she entered his cell. Draco’s legs were becoming weak, and he held on to the bars tightly to support himself.

“I…I want to go…tonight…no NOW, I want to go now.” His breathing was becoming ragged, and Narcissa watched in horror as her son began changing before her eyes. She quickly pulled him into a tight embrace while she still could. Within seconds, a beautiful silvery blue Dragon slipped from her arms and padded across the floor. It was about three feet long with eyes of greyish silver, just like Draco’s. The dragon looked scared and confused but continued to pace the cell impatiently.

“Draco, you look…well, sweet,” she chuckled. Draco just grunted and nuzzled at her ankles. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

She locked the cell door and turned to kneel down beside her Dragon. “Good luck, love, and be careful. I love you!” She placed a light kiss on the dragon’s head then left quickly, wiping her tears as she locked the dungeon door behind her.

Draco turned to face his cell and tried to breathe fire at the bars. “How the hell do I get my fire?” he thought, becoming frustrated. “Anger, Draco, be angry.” That was easy. He thought about his father, and Voldemort, and Harry lying helpless so close to death, and felt the anger arise from deep within his stomach. With a mighty roar, Draco managed to emit enough hot flames to bend and break the bars of the cell. Then turning to look at the small window about twenty feet above him, he closed his eyes and imagined himself soaring through the air on his Firebolt, racing for the Snitch. He suddenly felt his feet lifting from the floor beneath him, and he opened his eyes to finish what he intended. Breathing fire again, this time at the small window, he managed to get a gap big enough to squeeze through and soar out into the night towards Hogwarts.

TBC