My Beautiful Dragon

A/N: Thanks once again to my hard working, wonderful beta shadowsamurai. Also a huge thanks to Amazonia for keeping me interested in this fic and for all her help and support, and to Sam (shadowsamurai) for the editing and tidying up of this chapter. I owe you both. Please also note that I intentionally made Professor Snape to be out of character in this chapter.

Chapter 5

The Dragon Returns

Draco looked around his room and smiled. Dumbledore had thought of everything. It was lightly decorated in pale green and had a touch of silver in the décor, and the window was large enough so that he could leave and return to his room as ‘the dragon’ unnoticed, as was undoubtedly the ‘old coot’s’ plan. There was a desk and a bookshelf at the far end of the room as well, an obvious reminder that Dumbledore wished Draco to begin his studies again as soon as possible. The room wasn’t exactly huge, like his room back at the Manor, but it was adequate. He didn’t really want to return to the Slytherin dorms anytime soon, and so Dumbledore had come up with this ideal solution for Draco’s safety and privacy.

The thing that Draco liked the most about his new accommodation was the bed. It was a large four-poster, with green and silver drapes and beautiful silken sheets of the same colour. At least it’s better than the cold, hard ground I’ve been sleeping on, Draco thought as he lay down.

It had been a very strange day indeed, almost surreal. After he had received the Headmaster’s missive, Draco had gone straight to his office to speak to him, and was shocked when Dumbledore told him it was time.

“Harry has finally broken down, Draco,” the Headmaster explained. “He’s emotionally and physically drained. I need you to speak with him about the defeat of Voldemort. But be warned, Draco - Harry is very vulnerable, and extremely scared of being touched.”

Draco let the words play over and over in his befuddled mind. So, Harry had killed the evil fucker - he was the only one who could, apparently. Something to do with a Prophecy Dumbledore had mentioned. Draco thought he was the one to fire the Killing Curse at the now-deceased Dark Lord, but now he knew Harry had also done the same thing, causing their wands to connect and blast the parasite into oblivion. So it must have been Harry’s signature from his wand that was found on Voldemort’s body, not Draco’s.

The blond sighed. He knew he couldn’t leave his room for the time being - he had been told to stay put until sun down then he could do as he pleased. Classes would begin again for him tomorrow, and Draco gulped nervously at the prospect before losing himself in his thoughts again. Thoughts of Harry crying, broken and lost. Not a happy route to take but he couldn’t help it. He wondered what the raven haired boy was doing right now.

*~*~*~*~*~

Potions, the last class of the day, dawned faster than Harry would have liked, especially given all that had happened so far that day. He caught up with his friends just when they were leaving the common room.

“Where have you been, mate?” Ron asked worriedly, he’d thought that Harry would go straight to his bed in the tower, and when he wasn’t there, Ron had gotten worried. He couldn’t access the map because it was locked in Harry’s trunk.

“Are you ok, Harry?” Hermione asked before Harry had a chance to catch his breath and answer Ron’s question.

“I decided to go out for a walk,” Harry answered; it wasn’t a lie, not really.

“But you went towards the school,” Hermione asked again, quizzically.

“Um…I, I did, but I left the halls when classes were over and decided to walk around on the grounds some,” Harry answered, hoping to mollify Hermione. It didn’t appear to have worked, but she left it at that anyway. Harry was grateful that, for once, Hermione didn’t interrogate him.

He wasn’t about to tell her what had happened- the meeting with the Headmaster, the green bush that he was oddly drawn to, the sound of someone watching him as he reached for the knife-sharp leaves, and running back scared only to realize that he’d missed the free period they had reserved for studying.

The three Gryffindors walked to their last class of the day in a somewhat tense silence. But, as they neared the dungeon, Ron’s footing changed pace and he hung back a little from his friends. How he hated Potions. Or maybe he hated Snape. Either way, he didn’t look forward to this class and saw it as quite useless.

“Why?” He lamented out loud, sullenly, to his friends’ curious faces as they stared at him from their positions, waiting for him to tell them why he had stopped. “Why must we go to that useless class all the time? It’s quite obvious that Snape does not want us to learn anything.”

Hermione looked at him in her usual disapproving manner when he talked about the uselessness of classes, and Harry turned his head to the side a little so Ron wouldn’t see the small, amused smirk that bloomed on his face. Hermione snorted at Ron’s antics and grabbed his arm so they wouldn’t be late for Potions. As Ron was stomping on to class he felt the whirl of a robe and saw the tall, bat-like form of Snape speed by. He grimaced in disgust at his professors back and, with the un-humanly way that Snape always had of knowing when some Gryffindor was somehow insulting him, Snape turned around at the threshold of the door and glared at the young redhead. Ron’s arm got pulled from Hermione’s hold as he was stopped in his tracks by that stare. Unfortunately, his grimace had frozen on his face as well. All the evidence that Snape needed for punishment; not that he ever needed much. Harry and Hermione stopped next to him to stare at their professor with wide eyes.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, for making faces at a teacher’s back,” Snape announced with his usual air of finality. Then, giving them one last look of disdain, he closed the classroom door in their faces.

The golden trio looked at each other in bewilderment and slight shock before remembering that they were now late and racing to the classroom.

“Ten points from each of you for being late to my class,” Snape acidly said without missing a beat. “And, Mr. Potter, a word… after class.” Harry nodded, stopped walking to Snape’s desk, and went back to his chair beside Hermione.

The brunette scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and shrugged at Hermione when she gave him an inquiring look. What exactly had he done? If anyone should have a talking to, it should be Ron.

Professor Snape started his usual lecture and informed them that they would only be working on theory today. Then he left them to work on it and went back to grading papers. If Harry felt those obsidian eyes on him during the class period on a few occasions, he didn’t show it.

It was a good thing they were only working on theory, as Harry was too worried and confused to brew a potion as well as he could with a clear head. Which, if Harry was being truthful with himself, wasn’t very good to begin with. Added to his whirlwind of thoughts about Snape were thoughts about his friends and the conversation he’d had with the Headmaster. He wanted to tell Ron about everything, he owed him that much. They were best friends, after all. But Harry was too embarrassed to share those evil memories of his rape and torture, not just with Ron, but anyone. ‘What if Ron was disgusted? What if Ron became angry? What if… what if?’ That was all Harry could think about when he thought about telling anyone what had happened. No, it was easier to withdraw into himself than to face the answers to his questions right now.

Harry was pulled out of his depressing thoughts by the bell. He looked down on his paper and realized that he hadn’t finished a lot of his work. It was to be expected, though. This was happening to him in every class. Maybe this is what Snape wanted to talk to him about?

“I’ll... erm; I’ll see you guys in a bit, all right?” Harry told his friends. They gave him sympathetic smiles, nodded, and went to the exit together.

“If he gives Harry detention, or… or upsets him in any way, I’m gonna Hex that Greasy slimeball into next week, Professor or no,” Ron stated in a loud whisper as they left the classroom. Hermione said nothing; she didn’t want to get into a disagreement with the fiery redhead. Not now anyway, she had more important things to ponder over. Namely homework and Harry’s mood swings.

Harry snickered a little when he heard Ron’s proclamation and looked over to see if Snape had heard it too. The lanky-haired professor’s lips were set in a tight line and he glared at Ron’s chair. Probably pondering over what evil thing he could do to the Weasley. Harry shivered and felt sorry for Ron. He turned back around and used the time the other students were leaving to put his book, parchment and quill and ink in his bag. By the time he’d finished organising his things, the classroom was empty.

He walked over to Snape’s desk and stood, waiting to see what the Slytherin Head of House wanted him for.

*~*~*~*~*~

Harry shifted nervously from foot to foot. ‘I wish he’d just get on with it already,’ he thought. And as if reading his mind, Snape cleared his throat and fixed his onyx coloured eyes on the trembling Gryffindor in front of him. The look wasn’t one Harry recognized - it seemed more intense, questioning maybe, or even concerned - and that shocked Harry; no way would Snape be concerned for him. The Slytherin hated the Potters’, Harry especially.

“How are things, Potter?” Snape asked, and Harry’s jaw dropped open in shock.

He stuttered his way through his answer, nerves obviously making an appearance at the wrong time. “I… erm… well… I… um… I’m doing okay, I think,” he said, his eyes never leaving the floor he was staring at unconsciously.

But Snape wasn’t fooled. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, Potter. Now I’ll ask you again. How are things?”

Harry met the man’s piercing gaze and swallowed the nausea rising quickly from his gut. Tears were beginning to squeeze their way out from his emerald orbs and he clenched his fists by his side, praying this was just a dream. He knew he’d wake up any moment to find he was in the Gryffindor common room with his best friends, playing exploding snap or complaining about the amount of homework they had to do. But it wasn’t a dream. It was real, and Snape was waiting for an answer.

Harry licked his lips; his mouth had suddenly become dry. “Why, sir? Why do you want to know? It’s not as if you care,” he ground out. What he heard next completely blew all thoughts of Snape being an uncaring, slimy bastard, out the window.

“Sit down, Potter, and look at me when I’m talking to you.” Harry obeyed the man’s orders and listened intently as the memories he had shared with nobody at all came spewing forth from the Professor’s mouth. “I was the one who found you, Potter. Dumbledore summoned me, after the Dark Lord’s body was removed, to say you’d gone missing. I was sent to look for you. I had no idea where to start, so I just went on instinct.

“I tried Godric’s Hollow, I tried your Muggle relatives, but to no avail. I became irate, wondering why I was the one sent on the mission and not Dumbledore himself. Then it dawned on me.” Here he paused, long enough for Harry to let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Harry gulped. ‘Snape knows? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Then that means, no… oh Merlin… oh fuck.’

Visions of Death Eaters using and abusing his body for their sick little games flashed through his mind. Snape was there. It wasn’t a question - it was a realization. Harry’s face distorted with anger as he leapt from his the seat and flew at the stunned Professor, screaming and sobbing.


“YOU, YOU SICK EVIL BASTARD, ENJOY YOUSELF, DID YOU? YOU…” His voice broke off suddenly when he realized Snape’s eyes had gone wide and he was holding his head, obviously keeping himself in check so he wouldn’t frighten Harry by his touch.

“Control your self, Potter. Please, let me finish,” He whispered hoarsely.

Harry tried to even his strangled breaths as he took in the state of obvious distress that his Potions Professor was in. It wasn’t working, and Harry was pulled back into memories that he would rather forget.

“Just calm down, Po… Harry.” That did it. Hearing Snape use his given name, he was brought back to the Potions classroom and the pain that marred his palm where his nails had punctured into his flesh; he unclenched his fists and hesitantly allowed the man to calmly return him to a seat. He asked Harry if he would like a Calming Draft, which the youngster declined.

Harry drew in a deep lungful of breath and tried to relax. It was hard, sitting there trying to stop the tears and anger from showing in front of one of his abusers. But Snape seemed to want to tell him. He’d called him ‘Harry’ for the first time ever, and this made the Gryffindor sit up and listen. Maybe he was jumping to the wrong conclusions.

“I... I’m s… sor… ry… sir, pl… please continue,” he mumbled. It was hard to talk and cry at the same time. Snape nodded and seated himself at his desk, eye level with Harry.

“As I was saying… Harry, it dawned on me that you had been ‘taken’. I had a terrible thought that you may be with Death Eaters. I left that side once the Dark Lord was banished. Being a spy for both sides, it was easy to infiltrate the old Riddle House. That’s where we all used to meet. Anyway, I Apparated to that house; it was eerily quiet. I knew that the Death Eaters, or any of the Aurors who were rounding them up, mustn’t see me.

I managed to get into the house, and at first I thought maybe my theory was wrong. You weren’t there-” he stopped to gently but carefully, place a trembling hand on Harry’s arm. The latter flinched, but said nothing- “then, I heard a strangled moan. I moved in a trance towards the direction of the sound. Harry, I am so so sorry I wasn’t there sooner, but let me assure you that I took no part whatsoever in any of the things they did to you. I was never there. And, even if Ihad been, I would never have tortured you, even if they Crucio’d me for refusing.”

Harry had become aware that the man in front of him seemed to be genuinely upset with the revelations. ‘Maybe I did come up with the wrong conclusion and Snape isn’t an evil bastard after all.’ He saved Harry’s life in a roundabout sort of way. Harry had to be grateful. He couldn’t spit venom at him now, especially since Snape seemed to be showing a gentler side other than his usual cold exterior.

“Sir... please… don’t go into graphic detail of how I looked, I… I already know what those sick individuals did to me, to my body… I don’t want to be constantly reminded of it,” Harry said in disgust. Snape nodded and continued to tell Harry how he’d rescued him from the dungeon of the dilapidated building and rushed him to the Infirmary where Madam Pomfrey worked tirelessly through the night, mending broken bones, healing cuts and dealing with a distraught sixteen year old who refused to be touched.

“It had taken nearly seven hours before you were healed, but you’d drifted into a healing coma and Poppy would not, and could not; heal you internally without your permission. Harry was crying again at the memories of those fateful days and nights that preceded the war. The rape by the lone, faceless Death Eater in the forest was the most painful of all. But the other ones, combined with the torture, left him dead inside.

Snape handed the sobbing boy a tissue and let him compose himself before he spoke again.

“I’m not proud of who I was, Harry, but I’m proud of what I did to get you out of there. I still think you are an insolent brat…” This was said with a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, which Harry assumed was a smirk. “But you are a great Wizard, Harry, and a student at Hogwarts. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

No more was said, although Harry promised to try and talk things through with his friends at Snape’s reasonable request. It was the only way he could heal, properly. He needed closure. He needed comfort. He needed Draco.

*~*~*~*~*~

Harry ran, literally, into his two best friends as he entered the Gryffindor common room.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said as he tried to help Harry to his feet, but the raven haired boy ignored his friend’s outstretched hand. “Hermione and I were just about to come looking for you. You’ve been gone for hours and we were worried about you. We thought Snape had given you detention for your remarks earlier. Did he?”

“Huh?”

“Did he give you detention?” Ron asked again.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, fighting internally with himself about the answer he should give. The easy option seemed the most obvious at this precise moment. “Er, yeah. He, erm, he had me clean out his private stores.”

Hermione looked aghast. “He’s a sadist, Harry, how could he be so cruel? He knows you’re having a bad time of it lately. Ronald, I think I’ll join you in hexing the git,” she hissed angrily. Harry snorted. Hearing Hermione cuss was a rarity but when she did, it usually brought a smile to his face.

But not this time. He politely told them he wanted to be alone for a bit and shaking his head slowly at his plight, he headed upstairs to his dorm. “If I’d let them come up here with me, they’d be hounding me for information again, and right now, I’m not in the mood to share it,” he muttered to himself.

Harry settled on his bed and closed his eyes. He was tired. So much had happened since he awoke that morning. Now he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but he couldn’t find anything to help him ease into a gentle slumber. He tried thinking of flying his Firebolt; more tossing and turning. He tried to think of Sirius, but it was too painful. Then as a vision of platinum hair crossed his mind Harry relaxed. “Draco,” he murmured before sleep took him.


*~*~*~*~*~


“I’m telling you, Ron, we need to get him to talk to us,” Hermione said, once Harry had gone upstairs.

“How?” the red-head asked.

“I don’t know. I just know we need to try. It’s obvious that he’s been tor- … I can’t even think about it, let alone say it,” Hermione muttered, shuddering.

“Dumbledore said we need to just be here for him, that we can’t help unless Harry lets us,” Ron said, dropping wearily into a chair. “Besides, he’s not the only one who isn’t sleeping. I wake up every time he does, which is at least three times a night.”

“Honestly, Ronald! You can be so selfish sometimes!” Hermione snapped.

“I wasn’t complaining, I was just saying!” Ron retorted defensively.

“Well don’t. Don’t make comments like that again. Harry needs us, and it’s not just these nightmares that are worrying me.”

“You mean his unusual obsession with Malfoy’s empty seat?”

“Exactly,” Hermione said.

“Right now, the missing ferret is the least of my worries. I wouldn’t care if he never came back. But I do care that Harry might never come back,” Ron replied, running his hand through his hair. “We’re losing him, Hermione.”

Hermione patted Ron’s arm. “I know,” she sighed. “But like you just said to me, and Dumbledore said to us, we can’t help Harry unless he let’s us.”

*~*~*~*~*~

It was the screaming that woke him up. Where was it coming from? Harry reached across for his glasses and quickly put them on. Gazing around the room, he noticed his house mates were asleep and suddenly realizing how dark it was, he cast Lumos to check his watch.

“Holy fuck,” Harry thought wearily. “It’s half past one in the frigging morning. When did I fall asleep, and who was screaming?” He tried to think back to the dream he’d been having and then it hit him. It was one of his daily nightmares haunting him again. He was the one screaming, in his head, where no one would hear him. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he decided to try and sleep again. It was futile.

Throwing off his blankets, Harry quietly trudged to the bathroom and washed his face. Deciding this time not to go back to bed, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed out of his dorm. Clad only in a thin t-shirt and jeans, Harry shivered as he made his way out into the grounds. Summer’s long gone, he thought sadly. There were still the occasional hot days but the nights were cooler, signalling the approaching autumn. Harry breathed in the cold air and sat down at his favourite spot by the lake. He hated being alone, but at times like this it was what he wanted more than anything. It was an occasion to think about what had taken place not that long ago and about his future.

Did he have one?

Did he even want one?

“I just want it all to go away. I didn’t ask for any of this.” The tears came again as he lowered his head into his hands. “I’m fucking insane. Listen to me, talking to myself. I’m a fruitcake; I deserve nothing, no love, no life, nothing.” Shoulders heaving from sobbing, the broken young teen let out a frustrated cry that came from deep within, beside the anger, pain and humiliation.

That was how Draco found him. He stalked carefully over to the distraught figure and observed him from a few feet. Harry stilled. He could feel a presence. His eyes were glazed with tears and as he reached for his wand he heard the soft sound of breathing. It wasn’t his, which was ragged and short. This was… this was quiet, as though someone was silently watching from the shadows.

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end as he called out. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Who’s there?” he asked again.

Harry was beginning to panic. What if it was Death Eaters again? He had to get out of there and fast. But just as he got to his feet, he stopped abruptly when he came face to face with…

“A dragon? What in Merlin’s name is a dragon doing here in Hogwarts?”

He didn’t bother to think of an answer; instead he eyed the dragon warily. Thoughts of the Triwizard tournament in fourth year came flooding back as he remembered the fierce Hungarian Horntail he’d had the pleasure of meeting for the first task, and he shivered at the memory. But this dragon didn’t look fierce or scary. In fact, Harry thought it looked beautiful. Although it was dark, Harry had enough light from the tip of his wand to see the dragon. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously approaching the creature.

The dragon remained still. It let Harry reach his hand out to stroke it. “Hello…” he took a shaky breath and stretched out his hand… “I guess if you’re going to hurt me you would have done it by now, huh?” The dragon seemed to understand. He nuzzled into the offered hand and felt the boy tense slightly. He had to gain the boy’s trust. The dragon moved its head to the boy’s legs and nuzzled them too. He thought he heard Harry giggle.

Harry placed his hand on the dragon’s back and ran his fingers lightly over its skin. “Wow, you’re so smooth, not like a dragon is supposed to be. Are you really a dragon, or an Animagus?”

Harry mentally kicked himself after the question left his lips. ‘It’s a fuckin’ dragon, you fruit! It can’t talk. Guh!’ he chastised. Shaking his head he motioned the dragon to follow him.

*~*~*~*~*~
Once back in the Castle and the warm of his dorm, he placed the dragon on his bed and looked at it properly for the first time. It really was beautiful; a silvery blue colour with grey sparkling eyes. It looked to be between two and a half and three feet long, and Harry watched as it gazed around the room. He would have to name this fine specimen if he wanted to keep it.

Clearing his throat he whispered quietly so as not to waken his sleeping room mates. “I’m going to call you Drakkon. You… you remind me of someone. Someone I never got the chance to know and wish I had.” With that thought, Harry climbed into bed and lay down, burying his face in the pillows. Again the tears came but this time so did comfort. His new pet dragon crawled up to Harry and laid its head on the younger boy’s back. Feeling the warmth of that gentle touch and the reassurance it brought, Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Draco smiled to himself. He had finally earned Harry’s trust, but he would need to earn it in his human form too. He liked the name Harry had given him, and wanted to cry at the tone of voice his former nemesis had used when he spoke about wanting to get to know him. Draco settled down to rest and stayed close to the sleeping Gryffindor beside him, but he didn’t fall asleep as he knew would have to leave just after sunrise. He still hadn’t got any idea how he could open a door in his dragon form - at least not without incinerating it.

*~*~*~*~*~


Harry awoke to the sound of Ron snoring and a chill where the warmth of his newly found friend used to be. Squinting to his side, he noticed Drakkon was gone. He sighed heavily and sat up. Maybe the dragon was under his bed. Harry went through a thorough search of his stuff and found nothing. Thinking that maybe Drakkon had gone under Ron’s bed or around his things instead, Harry started searching there.

Ron, having woken up during Harry’s search, turned over, stretched and sat up. He glanced at Harry, who was half underneath his bed, and heard him muttering something about a dragon, or Drakkon. Or, oh no, did Harry think Malfoy was under his bed?

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, deliberately slow so as not to scare Harry.

“I’ve lost my dragon; he’s gone, vanished into thin air,” Ron furrowed his brow; at least Harry didn’t think Malfoy was near, but what was Harry talking about?

“A real dragon, Harry?” Ron asked sceptically. This was obviously the wrong tone to use as Harry straightened up from his search and glared stonily at Ron.

“Yes. Don’t believe me?” Harry asked sullenly after a few minutes of extremely tense silence.

“No…yes, Harry, I don’t know, I’m not fully awake. Why don’t you explain, yeah?” Ron decided to amend, trying to calm his irate friend down.

“I’m sorry Ron, I… I’m just at a loss at the moment.” Here he broke off to take a comforting long breath. “And, last night, I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk and found this little dragon down by the lake. I… I, well, I befriended him. I named him Drakkon and he slept on my bed. When I woke, he was gone.” Ron looked confused. He didn’t want his friend to get upset, so he offered to help Harry look on the grounds later. “Maybe it needs to be outdoors, Harry. I think I’ll owl Charlie and ask him to take the dragon to Romania. You don’t know it, Harry. It could be dangerous.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Ron! I found him, I’m keeping him and there’s nothing neither you nor anyone else can do about it. Now leave me alone.”

Harry stomped to the bathroom, locked the door with a strong locking charm and turned on the shower.

Ron slumped back on the bed and was left wondering what, exactly, had gone wrong.

*~*~*~*~*~


An hour later, Harry found himself standing outside the doors to the Great Hall. He knew everyone was in there, but he didn’t know if he could face them all after his outburst yesterday. He noticed, however, that there was no sound coming from behind the heavy oak doors and curiosity finally got the better of him. Taking a deep breath, he pulled them open and strolled inside as calmly as he could.

Sitting silently, he stared at his housemates and finally noticed the cause of the silence. All eyes were directed towards the Slytherin table… again. Only this time something was different, something that wasn’t there yesterday…

“Malfoy?” Harry gasped.

“Yeah, Harry, you can stop your pining for him now,” Ron said, clearly disgusted. “The Ferret is home.”

Harry looked across in Draco’s direction. At the same time, the blond head of said Slytherin turned, and their eyes locked for a moment. Harry felt something stir inside, it started as a tiny flutter before it turned into what felt like a herd of Hippogriffs rampaging around his stomach. And it was all because Malfoy was looking at him and smiling. A genuine smile graced that beautiful, angelic face. Harry smiled back. It was the first really legitimate smile that had graced Harry’s features in a long while.


“He’s home,” he whispered before turning his gaze away and starting to happily eat his breakfast. Things were beginning to look up for him at last, and for the first time in three weeks, he felt happy and at peace.


TBC