A Dragon's Love

Chapter Seven
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"Good morning, Professor Malfoy," Helena chirped cheerfully. She'd worn an buttery yellow tube dress underneath her black robes, and she looked like an oversized bumblebee. A rather endearing oversized bumblebee, Draco thought, his heart beating faster at the scent of her skin.

Gruffly, he answered, "I thought I asked you to call me Draco." He didn't know it, but he looked like a sulky little boy, his sensual lips almost pouting and his silvery hair flying every which way in the cool morning wind.

Tongue in cheek, Helena replied, "Well I haven't been seeing enough of you lately. I didn't feel like I had the right to call you by your surname when I know so little of you. Where have you been?"

Ignoring the question, Draco said to his surprise, "If you want to get to know me better, you need only ask. Preferably over dinner."

Helena was equally surprised. "Is the venerable Potions Master actually asking me out to dinner?" Her soft lips curved into a smirk as Draco reddened.

"I merely meant.." Suddenly, he literally stopped breathing as Helena swept close to him, her smiling mouth mere seconds away from his.

"You meant..?" Her voice was softer than clouds and sexy as hell. His cock stiffened to the hardness of rock.

"Do you want to eat together at dinnertime today, damn it?" A saucy smile was his only answer.
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She was feeling... different. Leisurely. Content. Almost happy. It was as if the shadows that haunted her were disappearing one by one, driven away by the silvery light of his presence.

Helena knew it was idiotic to submit to this langorous pleasure. She knew all too well that life wasn't harmonious. Her past had been discordant, crimson with the blood of her enemies. She had once thought her hands would never be removed with the taint of death. And yet, with one scowl, an endearing flick of his hair, Draco Malfoy had managed to turn the heart in her.

Dear Circe! She hoped she hadn't been as dimwitted as to have fallen in love with the blond prat.

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Draco Malfoy was utterly confused. Had he just acted like a blathering idiot and asked Helena Simmons to an actual date? He shook his head violently as if to clear the memory from his mind. This wasn't happening.

He had been totally content with a bachelor's life. A snort escaped him. More like a monk's, if he was to be completely honest. After being severely heartbroken by Flora, Draco had at first fucked as many girls as he could get. As if that could lead him to forget her as he plunged into countless girls, to erase her angelic face from his heart. But it hadn't been of any use. And Draco had learned that sex really wasn't of importance any longer, except to allieve stress. So he had done without it for quite a while. Then, he had also retracted from the society of women almost completely, hardened into a machine that didn't need the soft skin and voices of the fairer sex.

But Helena had changed that somehow. Subtly, that little minx had managed to get under his skin, and would not get out. An unexpected wave of guilt washed over Draco. How could he just forget Flora within the two weeks he had met Helena Simmons? Why did he want to heal the hurts of his heart, and trust again? He wanted to know Helena, to kiss her lips and learn her taste. It felt rather different from what he had felt for Flora. Surely, it couldn't be.. ? No, of course it wasn't that.

The Potions Professor finally looked up and saw his goddaughter, Angelique, walk with two of her friends. He smiled broadly. Angelique would be quite a lovely young lady one day, though at the moment she was rather too thin and towered over most of the first years at five feet six inches. With her thick fiery hair and velvety dark blue eyes, she hadn't her mother's delicate Botticelli beauty, but already there was an innocent sensuality in her movements. Waving to the young girl, who finally caught sight of him and threw him a grin, he felt that his heart that had been iron was slowly lightening.

"Hello, Professor Malfoy," spoke a deep male voice. Immediately, Draco stiffened, and turned to Professor Dresden. He acknowledged the other man's presence with a curt nod. It was probably quite infantile, but Draco hadn't lost his antagonism towards the larger man. He refused to admit that it was because of the way Helena had looked at Dresden or that it was because the other man looked much more COMPACT in comparison to his own slim frame. Instead, Draco preferred to believe that it was simply the fact that it was quite odd that Moore Dresden had applied nearly to the minute for a teaching post after Minerva had put a notice for an opening. It couldn't be coincidence. Besides, Moore didn't look like a teacher at all. More like a Hungarian Horntail, that lumbering oaf.

A smirk sliced its way across Dresden's face. "I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot the other day, Professor Malfoy."

"Not at all, Dresden," Draco said politely, noticing Helena walking towards the staff's table where they were sitting, her delicious lips slightly upward and her black hair falling neatly over her left breast. "And we are co-workers now, we might as well use our given names. Draco." He extended a hand, though secretly his flesh crawled at the thought of Dresden touching him.

He nearly died as the bigger hand crushed his violently. To his everlasting shame, he emitted a ferretlike sound as his fingers nearly broke under the pressure. Helena was watching, her head tilted slightly, as she took a seat next to that hateful Dresden. "Call me Moore," Dresden said, his eyes flashing with triumph as he released Draco's fingers.

Draco narrowed his silver eyes at Helena. Why was she sitting next to that overgrown troll on steroids? He called to her, "No need to stay so far from me. I thought we were going to converse through suppertime." Inwardly, he seethed at having to look pathetic in front of the entire Hogwarts staff.

Helena looked surprised. "Oh, you meant today? I rather thought you meant later.."

Out of his wits with frustration and embarassment, Draco snapped, "Obviously I meant dinnertime today. Or did you think I was daft enough to want to see you when it was not necessary?"

The exquisite face tightened with anger and hurt. He felt an immediate rush of guilt burning a path through his heart. He would have apologized, which was utterly unlike him, when Dresden turned to Helena, who looked glad of the diversion. Of course she'd like him better, thought Draco bitterly. He couldn't blame her, with his disgusting behavior a minute ago. It didn't make him detest Dresden any the less, however. With a sigh, silver brows furrowed, Draco turned to his herb roasted potatoes and filet mignon, stabbing it with a vengeance. He wished it was Dresden.


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Professor McGonnagall was bone tired, but satisfied. The Sorting had gone without a hitch (she'd noticed that the two Weasley girls and Potter's daughter were Gryffindors) and Moore Dresden appeared to be a fine choice as a last minute Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. A nice bit of work he was too, with those tight buns and neatly cut midnight hair. Minerva may have been getting on in her old age and straitlaced, but she could still admire a cute bum when she saw one. And he seemed quite polite, as well as interested in that lovely young Professor Simmons.

She remembered Simmons as a young girl, incredibly intelligent. Thought not as eager to learn as Hermione Granger had been (no one could hold a candle to Miss Granger in regards to dedication), there was an inner brilliance that was more attractive. McGonnagall knew Helena was a diamond, if rough around the edges.

Though she'd been dreadfully busy as of late, Minerva had still noticed, with the help of that prodding and poky Dumbledore, that Draco was not exactly himself. He was more agitated, disheveled at times, a bit more - well, HUMAN. Just looking at the way Draco was ferociously attacking his food and looking anywhere but at Helena was proof that she had gotten to him. And she couldn't help but wonder if the dragon would finally get what had been coming to him for years. It was about time.