AN: Okay, guys, as my Christmas present to you all I am getting my Fanfiction account caught up with my Wattpad account. Most of these are tiny drabbles, but I thought you might enjoy none the less!
Yeah... So this is really old. And it skips around a lot. I don't even know why I'm posting this, it's not up to my usual standards, but there you go.
Characters, settings, and shared plot belong to JK Rowling.
Enjoy, and don't hate me!
~Kiro
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A silver egg balanced precariously on a ledge on the wall of a canyon. Its shell glittered in the light of the moonrise as it waited patiently for its parents. A storm began above, and a drop struck the crown of the egg. At this the egg rocked, turning onto its side as rain escalated, pouring down and washing the egg in water and the light of the full moon. The wind picked up and the egg rocked further, back and forth, back and forth on the edge of the canyon. Then, it dropped. With the last rock of the silver egg it rolled off the edge, dropping through air. With a crack, white fire shot down from the clouds and lightning struck the egg meters above the ground. Two twin wings sprang from the cracked shell and beat, once, twice. A pure white dragon pulled into a glide two inches above the ground, shell falling to the dirt behind it. A new dragon was born.
Many miles to the west, some hours later, under the same storm there was another birth. A young mother screamed as she pushed, her emerald eyes weary, her devoted husband by her side, encouraging her and pouring all of the magic he could spare into his struggling wife's body. With one last push and scream from the red-haired, ragged mother her son's body was free from her loins. As a pale white flash of light thundered through the room, the infant filled its lungs and screamed.
~~~
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER
"You don't have to do this, Draco. You always have a choice."
The old headmaster faced the pale boy from across the tower, calm as can be. His white beard and hair blew to one side in the wind as he stared benignly at the teen. The boy's white-blonde hair shown near silver in the light of the moon and his face was twisted in inner pain. The boy clenched his teeth, clamped his fingers white-knuckled to his wand, raised at his headmaster.
"You don't understand. They have my mother in a cage. If I don't do this then they will kill her and she will never have gotten to see the sky one last time before her death. Do you know what that is like for one of my kind?"
His tense, emotionally strained words were interrupted by the entrance of people. Behind him stood his aunt, black-haired and wild eyed. Her voice jumped the octaves, sadistic and teasing.
"Come on, Drakey, this is part of the fun! Aren't you excited? You even get to prove your worth under the moon, how fitting for a dragon. Or can't you handle even this small task? You are worthless, aren't you. Just do it, boy!"
But the boy dropped his wand, looking down at the ground and shaking his head. The shame radiated off him, too weak to do even this. From behind him came a tall, billowing figure in black, his greasy hair hanging in strings over his tired face. He raised his wand and, with a firm "Avada Kedavra" sent green light into the chest if the ancient headmaster, rendering him dead.
An angry teen watched with emerald eyes as the figures stormed out, seething at what had just happened, confusion foremost in his brain as to why the other teen didn't kill his old headmaster, along with the words in the exchange.
~
The black-haired boy, emerald eye swollen and glimmering with fear, lowered his gaze as he knelt on the Manor floor. His eyes glazed in anticipation of the words of hate and betrayal that would pour out of the blonde's mouth. But no such words came, only "No, this is not him."
~
The boy grasped his broom tight, flying as high as he could over the heat of the fire towards safety. Suddenly, he glanced back, his lightening scar shimmering with sweat, and he turned his broom around, ignoring the protests of his friends. He zoomed closer, calling out to the desperate blonde who clung to the side of a pile of junk. The blonde stuck out a hand in desperation, but as the black-haired boy grabbed for it the hand slipped from his. The blonde lost balance and fell, down, down, and the other boy frantically turned back to reach the boy in time. But pure white wings erupted from the boy's back, tearing his clothes and he flapped, rising above the other boy's head. The black haired one swerved back onto his course as if he had never deviated. They raced towards the exit, the winged boy landing on the other's broom and clinging tight as they chased the other two brooms. The two slid through the door, just before it slammed shut.
~
The boy with the lightning scar lifted the stolen wand, the winged blonde's wand, and shot one final curse, killing his enemy.
~
The black-haired boy carefully made his way to the seat before the Wizengamot. His eyes sought and found the one on trial, a blonde boy, now haggard and wingless, staring back at him with confusion in his eyes.
With a sigh, the thin scarred boy began his story, one of a boy forced into servitude, blackmailed and threatened by his "master", of selfless acts and aid in the destruction of the most powerful dark wizard this world had ever seen. Then he stood, calmly, looked one last time into the quicksilver eyes that watched him, and took his leave.
He stood outside the door as he listened to the verdict, smiling at the sounds of rejoicing from the blonde and his family. He strode away from the door, and away from the blonde. Not for the last time, and not for the first, but one of many. The two lives were interwoven, and this time they were doing it properly.
