Dragon Hunt

“Draco?” Harry asked. He’d been watching Draco study the chess board for too long. “Can I ask you something?”

The dragon didn’t look up at him. “My soul is yours to know,” Draco said softly.

Comments like that always made Harry nervous. “I had a dream a while ago, a memory really.”

“You have many such things,” Draco said flatly, not showing emotion. But Harry could hear it in the purr: both distaste and acceptance.

“You were in this one.” Draco’s gaze snapped to Harry’s. He nodded slowly, indicating he knew the one Harry was speaking of, the argument between himself and Cedric in the hallway. “I was wondering if you remember that?”

“Of course,” Draco shrugged.

“I mean, not from my dreams, but from your own experience?”

Draco nodded slowly. “Seeing it in your dream jogged my own memory of the event. My memory of everything has started to return.”

Harry wondered when that had happened, and why he hadn’t seen any changes back into the horrid Malfoy he knew, but now he had other questions. “What brought on the argument? Did you just want to get Cedric and I in trouble for—“ Harry didn’t know how he wanted to word this.

“For your unorthodox library activities?” Draco supplied. Harry nodded. “No,” Draco said simply.

“Then what was it?” Harry asked.

Draco stared at Harry for a long moment. Finally he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair almost nervously. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead.” Harry stared at him blankly and Draco knew that he would have to tell Harry. “I assume you asked Cedric about it? What did he tell you?”

“He said that you had asked him out and were refusing to take no for an answer,” Harry shrugged. “But, I don’t think that was the whole truth.”

“It was kind of the reverse. Cedric had asked me out early in the year. My previous bedroom activities had been quite well known thanks to a loud-mouthed spurned fiancé.”

“Pansy?”

“My engagement to Pansy was arranged from the time I was born. As I went through puberty, I realized—felt—I knew not only that I had a mate, but that I was gay. I told no one of my realization about having a mate, but Pansy was getting itchy and trying to seduce me. I told her I was gay. She said it didn’t matter, that we were meant to be together. I proved it to her by setting it up so that she would catch Blaise and me in the act.”

Harry flushed at the thought. “So you’re not particularly shy concerning such things?” he managed to squeak out.

Draco shook his head. “My affair with Blaise was sex for two express purposes. One: get rid of Pansy’s advances. Two: learn how to properly pleasure my mate.” Harry flushed again. Draco decided to ignore his mate’s embarrassment and get back onto the topic Harry had asked of. “Pansy began spreading rumors that I was some kind of whore. Cedric wanted to benefit from that. He asked me out, but I said no. I believe when he began seeing you that he realized I was completely infatuated by you. He threw it in my face on more than that one occasion.”

“You were jealous?” Harry asked, surprised.

Draco nodded easily, making sure to keep his eyes locked on Harry. “I do not enjoy the thought of others touching you, though I knew that had I approached you at that point, I would have been spurned. You would have assumed it some Slytherin trick or worse, a Deatheater trick.”

“Draco, I—“ Harry started apologetically.

“I have worn a mask most of my life, Harry. It is not your fault that you never saw beneath it.”

“I didn’t even know to look.”

Draco smiled. “I wear no mask now. What do you see?”

“Someone utterly open to me, and accepting of me. You would tell me anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you? And you’d do it honestly?” Harry asked rhetorically. Draco only nodded in return. “You don’t know anything about me,” Harry said, shaking his head, confused.

“I know that whatever there is to know about you, it will not change who you are. And I do know who you are: kind—“ Harry rolled his eyes. “—Temperamental—“ Harry looked about to argue. “–Brave—“ Harry only looked confused at Draco’s descriptor. “Beautiful . . .” Draco finished with a sly smile as Harry blushed to his toes. “I think it’s the dragon in me. I can feel, sense, everything you are feeling and sensing. That’s why I see your dreams. I can read even your thoughts when they are as open as they are when you sleep.”

“I don’t like you rooting around in my mind,” Harry said angrily, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded Draco.

Draco only shrugged. “I can’t control it. At least not yet. I will work harder to stop intruding on your thought and dreams from now on.”

“Thank you,” Harry said grudgingly. They continued to stare across the table until Draco finally moved a chess piece. Harry had forgotten that they had been playing. He also saw that Draco had just put him in check-mate and the pieces were in full melee. “Tell me something about you.”

“Severus tells me that you have been reading my journal. You know about me.” Harry did not respond, just waited for a better response. Draco sighed and scratched his scalp, messing up his soft blond locks even more. “When I was seven years old, I was climbing a tree in the garden, an old willow. My parents walked underneath me, arguing about something. I don’t remember what. But my father backhanded my mother; she fell. I had never seen him be violent before. I didn’t know what to do, so I scrambled higher up in the branches, hoping I wouldn’t be seen, but my father saw me and grabbed by the arm, pulled me down and stood me in front of my mother.

“When she looked up at me, there was blood on her mouth. She looked so ashamed. ‘You are a Malfoy, Draco,’ he said to me. ‘Others are to obey you. If they do not, they must suffer consequences.’ I just nodded and he went back into the house. I sat down next to my mother and asked her what would happen if I didn’t want to hurt people. I wanted her to tell me that I didn’t have to, but she looked at me in disgust and told me that if I thought that way, I wasn’t a true Malfoy.”

“Is that true?” Harry asked, but he knew from the way Draco had stopped looking him in the eye that it was. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He’d allowed Draco to prove to him that he was being honest and true about the mask he had worn. “Now that the game is over, I think I’ll go to bed.”

Draco stood with him and reached a hand out towards Harry. “Let me join you?” he asked quietly. Harry gulped and stared at the hand. “I know you will think me crazy, but I love you.”

“No—“

“Please allow me to feel what I feel without arguing. I think I deserve that now,” Draco said. Harry nodded. “I want to bond with you, not just with my mate, but with you, Harry.”

Harry stared at that offered hand and felt himself reaching towards it. He saw his own hand hovering over Draco’s for a moment, felt the heat from the alabaster palm. He wanted to rest his hand in the other man’s. He wanted to feel Draco’s skin against his own. He wanted to feel Draco in him. He wanted to be one with him. But he came back to himself and pulled his hand away, stumbling backwards a few steps. “Good night, Draco. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yes,” Draco responded dully, not quite able to hide his hurt and disappointment. “Sleep well, love.” Harry gasped at the term of endearment and bolted up the stairs without looking back.