The Inbetween – By Slytherin's Dragon
A/N: Don't own.
Chapter XXV - Intuition
In late December, towards the end of the year's term, Henry eagerly dashed around the Room of Requirement, his arms laden with envelopes. He dropped an envelope in front of each of the industrious Ravenclaws who were determined to finish their large Transfiguration essay and project that were due the next day, an envelope each near the ground beside Blaise and Hannah, who were working on Stupefy and Ennervate which were the next topics that Professor Flitwick had suggested as topics of study in the New Year for the Club, a stack of three for Millicent, Daphne and Tracey who were flipping through various Herbology texts and finally four in front of Neville, who was writing something down on a piece of parchment that looked suspiciously like math.
Henry could have sworn he saw the word Dungbomb written somewhere on the parchment, but he figured some things were better left unasked.
"Umm... Henry? Why do I get four?" Neville took one of the envelopes and broke the old-fashioned seal attached. He pulled out the expensive creamy and smooth parchment within and read.
Master E. Winters & Mistress A. Winters
Cordially invites _ to the Winters' Christmas Ball,
Which will be held at Winterwind (The Winters' Manor) starting at 4 PM,
On the dates of December 25 & 26,
Lodgings will be provided,
Please respond by the 20th (letters addressed to Nestor) so the Floo wards and other accommodations may be made in advance. Please bring this invitation with you.
"I thought George, Lee and Fred would like to come." Henry winked at Neville.
Neville smiled broadly, "Thanks, Henry, I am sure they would be ecstatic – a few days ago, they were complaining about going home to the never-ending lectures of their mom."
Daphne exclaimed when the significance of the invitations dawned upon her, "Bloody hell, it's your father's year to host the Ball? I thought it was the Parkinsons!"
"Mr. Parkinson and my father apparently decided to switch years." Henry answered back, "Oh, and Blaise –"
"Yeah, Henry?" Blaise had just revived Hannah for the umpteenth time.
"Someone should pass these on to Harry." Henry counted six envelopes, "It was six, wasn't it?"
"Yeah – last time I checked," Blaise nodded, "I'll pass them on."
"I hope it won't be as dull as last year..." Tracey frowned, "It was held at the Malfoys – and Merlin, wasn't that a yawnfest! The people were bores, the entertainment almost non-existent and the House Elves frightened out of their wits!"
"So, how come our names aren't formally written in these things?" Terry asked while pointing to the line on his invitation, "Mom's not going to be too happy that I am ditching Christmas for this."
Henry sighed, "Just write in your damned own name in yourself."
"Terry," Daphne called out to the Ravenclaw sitting at the other cherry wood table, "One does not refuse the invitation of Master Winters – plus most of the rich and influential people of Britain and a few other places usually come. People usually beg to get invitations."
"And my father is pretty selective about who he invites to parties. He likes 'fun' in his parties. I remember my father got us out of going to Malfoys' party because he said it was going to be – to quote him – dull." Henry continued, "Usually he ends up inviting more than he wants to because mom intervened."
Hermione perked up as she remembered something. "Isn't the Potion finished today?"
"What Potion?" Millicent asked, curiously.
Terry answered, "Our Animagi one."
"Yeah, the three day simmering period just ended this morning. I've already decanted all the liquid and was waiting for all you lot to show up." Anthony said as he walked over to the steel cabinet. He opened the door and with his wand, levitated several glass flasks containing a clear liquid that looked exactly like water and moved them to the table occupied by the Ravenclaws.
"Mind you, looks just like water..." Blaise looked skeptically at the brews.
"So, do we... like... just drink it?" Su picked up a flask, and swished it, watching the liquid drip down the unbreakable glass insides.
"Yeah." Terry nodded. "So who wants to go first?"
"I will." Hermione offered, "I brewed most of it, so I guess..." She popped off the stopper and drank the liquid. "Flavourless... Hmm... that's strange."
"What is it?" Henry asked, noting that nothing really had changed.
"My mouth has a woody taste, like I just chewed a Muggle pencil or something..." Hermione shrugged, looking a bit disgusted, "Maybe it's the Potion's aftertaste? I guess. Anthony – you try!"
"Here goes nothing!" The blond haired and browned eyed Ravenclaw eyed the liquid wearily. He swallowed the liquid down in a gulp. "Merlin, tastes like bloody water! How anticlimactic!"
The Ravenclaw suddenly felt really disorientated, and almost fell over, but Blaise managed to catch the boy before he toppled over. Anthony blinked for a bit, before regaining equilibrium. He had the vague impression that his arms had been covered with feathers for a split second.
Blaise conjured some cushions around the area they were all standing around, just in case someone else pulled an Anthony.
One rather showy long blue feather seemed to emerge out of nowhere and drifted onto the table, next to Anthony's recently emptied flask. Neville picked it up.
"Looks like that's your clue," Neville mused, "Unless you also had woody aftertaste?"
"Nope." Anthony shook his head. "But I will definitely go look up what bird that feather came off of. Might help with the mentality of the thing – y'know."
Then Su tried, as did Terry, Padma and Stephen, but nothing seeming of significance seem to happen to the four Ravenclaws. Hannah drank hers too and had an aftertaste of seafood, while Neville reported having a fishy flavour in his mouth. Millicent had the sensation of feeling tiny, while Daphne was left with the impression that she had eaten a very rare steak. Nothing happened for Tracey, while Blaise could almost swear that his left arm had been covered in green scales.
"Well, I guess I am left," Henry mused, "Looks like Anthony here was the winner of our ten-percent lottery."
Anthony waved his own feather triumphantly at Henry's announcement.
"Get on with it, already!" Hermione groaned in impatience.
"Alright... Alright! Here goes nothing!" Henry closed his eyes and poured the liquid down his throat. He was disappointed when he felt no sense of dizziness, and he couldn't taste anything in his mouth.
"Fucking Merlin! You've got a sodding tail!" Terry exclaimed, "See!"
Henry craned his neck around to see a strange thick and furry serpent like thing behind him. It was covered with a light covering of fur that ranged from white to orange, with black stripes. With amusement, Henry realized that he had control over his new piece of anatomy and playfully swiped it at Blaise who grabbed it.
"Hey!" Henry tried yanking his new feature out of the boy's grasp.
"Well, you are definitely a tiger." Su looked at the tail with great interest, "And Blaise, let him go!"
"It's not every day where you get to catch a tiger by the tail." Blaise finally released his grip on Henry's tail.
"Thank you." Henry then paused for a while and then realized something, his tail curling into a question mark shape, "Shit! How do I get rid of this bloody tail? I can't leave the Room with it!"
There was laughter all around.
On a blustery cold day, Harry strode quietly through the snow dusted streets of the infamous Knockturn Alley alone, his bare hands tucked into his cloak pockets. The last rays of sun for the day faintly illuminated the tight alleyways, and Harry spread his magic-sense throughout the area. Cautiously, he navigated through the labyrinth, towards the centre of Knockturn Alley, avoiding eye-contact with any strangers he walked past, his cloaked and hooded figure an uninteresting target. He caught the glimpse of a werewolf, distinguished by familiar dark tangles circulating through a woman's bloodstream, and other individuals that Harry was sure were non-human, judging by their odd magical composition.
After walking a while, he was soon greeted by the sight of magically floating candlelit oriental lanterns of all shapes and colours, brightly coloured pennants strung on long slender ropes and a growing hubbub of activity as the vendors of the semi-annual Knockturn Alley Night Market set up their wares. Harry knew from Ivan that the Ministry had almost no control over the happenings of this night. There weren't enough Aurors in Wizarding Britain to deal with the chaos and the most they could do was send one or two to monitor the situation and pick up on leads the next day. This was also the place and time to acquire almost any illegal object one could possibly think of. Before immersing himself into the throngs of individuals, Harry discreetly snapped his fingers, and a tendril of fire shaped itself into a bird that took off far above the crowd to alert an on-duty Tonks of his arrival.
Harry glanced at the various stalls that had already set up, and the first thing that caught his attention was a beautiful set of knives, kept in a leather roll. Without bothering to ask the vendor, a squat and short wizard who Harry guessed was part Goblin, he picked up one of the blades by its exquisitely carved ivory handle. The metal of the blade was tainted bluish and experimentally, Harry conjured a wooden sphere, tossed it upwards, and used the largest knife to slice it into neat quarters before the wood hit the ground.
"Hey, you!" The part-Goblin man shouted at Harry, dismayed that someone was using his expensive merchandise in such a way, "Put that down before you break it – I don't think you can affor-"
"How much?" Harry replied coolly, annoyed with the man's judging whether a person could afford something through appearance. As he asked, Harry examined the knives with magic, to ensure that there was no funny business. He also probed the man lightly with Legilimency, to ensure he wasn't going to be ripped off. Harry had gotten proficient enough at probing that he no longer needed to make eye-contact, but he still wielded his skills with caution, never delving further than necessary.
"Forty galleons..." The man looked surprised by Harry's question, "The knives are Goblin-made, and they will never wear or tarnish."
"Done," Harry extracted forty galleons with magic from one of magically expanded sacks in his pockets, and physically dumped the gold in front of the dumbstruck man. He then rolled up the leather, added it into his right cloak pocket, which contained another empty bag with an Expansion Charm and walked away without another word.
He focused on the goods rather than the people and creatures around him. He stopped by a Potions stall, and bought an assortment of exotic, illegal or heavily regulated ingredients. Some of those ingredients, Harry decided, would make a good Christmas present for Forest.
As he walked along the length of the Market, Harry's magic sense became aware that there was some being that was moving through the place at preternatural speed, stopping then and now at a random human, before taking off again. The process was way too fast for human vision to catch. He proceeded to not care, until he sensed the thing move near him, and dip down towards him. He caught the brief flash of pointed eyeteeth, and it clicked.
Before a drop of blood was spilt, the would-be-drinker was immediately engulfed in Harry's most vicious silvery flames. An unholy screech was emitted, but Harry really couldn't care less as he continued to walk onwards without breaking stride. He noticed that the attention was drawn towards the burning body, but not him, since he had seemingly done nothing in the eyes of the public.
That was just deserts, anyhow.
He bought some other potential Christmas presents for his friends along the varied displays, not noticing that a hooded and cloaked man was observing him from afar after the incident. When Harry stopped a stall specializing in anything pertaining to Dragons, the man walked up to the boy, just as Harry was asking about Dragon skin.
"You wouldn't have had anything to do with the vampire?"
Harry was surprised that the speaker was none other than one Severus Snape.
"What vampire?" Harry did his best innocent impression and turned to look at the Potions Master.
"The one that coincidentally burst into flames when you walked by?" Severus almost gulped when he recognized the face looking at him. It was the boy who had all too easily shattered his Occlumency shields several years back. The large snake that had accompanied the boy was nowhere to be seen.
What is he doing here, out of all places?
"Ah." Harry barely acknowledged the Potions Master's statement, before turning his attention back to the dealer in front of him, "What's the price for that very interesting egg you have back there?"
Severus watched the proceedings quietly, wondering if the item of the boy's interest was indeed a Dragon's egg and finding himself oddly amused by the boy's audacity to evade his questioning.
The dealer, a lanky middle-aged man with long grizzled brown hair, turned ghostly pale at Harry's words. The egg that Harry had inquired about was hidden away from sight in a raggedy cardboard box behind the wooden display of goods.
"How d'ya know about that? I just bought that'un from another person about an hour ago!"
"Pay you double the price..." Harry offered silkily. He was well aware of the price that the man had paid.
"200 galleons."
"You got it for fifty from a Russian goblin named Igor," Harry pointed accusingly at the man, "And I know about that d–"
The gruff vendor looked completely unnerved and cut the boy off before any other secrets could be revealed. "Who the bloody fuck are you? Fine! Take it for seventy-five! And you can have that roll of Hungarian Horntail skin for ten galleons and seven sickles! Leave me the hell alone and keep that information to yourself – y'hear!"
Plunking down the money, Harry took a quick glance at the stone-like object that the frightened man had passed over. Unlike Rosalind's brown egg, this one shone iridescent silver and reflected the different coloured light shining through the lit paper lanterns that provided the lighting of the entire market. Ignoring Severus' awestruck gape, Harry placed the stone and roll of dragon leather in the same sack the knives and his innumerable other purchases had gone.
"It's rather foolish to flaunt all that wealth... at this place." Severus whispered his powers of speech returning back to him slowly.
Harry looked completely unconcerned by the sallow man's statement and continued onwards. Severus followed, his curiosity piqued. They passed stalls selling flying carpets, caged cobras, and strange coloured Potions, bubbling in ornate bottles.
"So... why are you following me?" Harry asked flatly, "I remember the good old days when you used to run the other way –"
"My apologies for the use of Legilimency on your person," Severus replied curtly, completely uncomfortable with the act of saying sorry, "I don't usually stick my probes into the business of others unless necessary, but I was horribly curious that day. Your snake – I take it – and you reminded me of days bygone."
"Voldemort." Harry said simply, his eyes resting ahead on a stall teaming with books that was at the far corner, ignoring his stalker's twitch at the casual mention of the Dark Lord's name. "So, why are you here?"
"I come every year." Severus said, thinking of years past, "It's where I replenish my own stores of ingredients. You should've worn this." The man summoned his own wand and conjured a simple black string, with a clove of garlic attached. "It keeps the vampires away. They have a quaint but apt name for tonight... The Winter Feast. They feed on the naive and the curious."
Harry tied the black string around his neck, after discerning that there was no magic embedded within the materials used.
"Vampires take today what they call, the quick drink." Severus explained further in his classroom voice, "They pick their victims throughout the crowd, run through with their superior agility, and take the quickest of draughts before sealing the wound off with a little bit of their own magical blood. That way, no one's the wiser."
"Does Albus know you are here?" Harry asked, abruptly changing the subject as they reached the books. Severus noticed the boy stared long and hard at a notorious Dark Arts text: Magicks of the Blood.
"That's a slippery path," Severus mused, "And no, he does not know. My personal life is of no concern to him."
"I don't think he owns this one," Harry said thoughtfully to himself – thinking about Remus, "Good Christmas present..."
"Strange choice of present," Severus noted humorously.
Harry paid for his purchases, and was interrupted by another familiar voice.
"Wotcher, Harry!"
"Hello Tonks," Harry pulled a sack out of his pocket and crammed his new books in, "You got my bird?"
"Yeah... It's kind of dull walking around here, actually – seeing over a year's worth of illegal activity in one night, but powerless to stop it." Tonks sighed, "Merlin, it's Professor Snape!"
Severus groaned when he saw the Metamorphagus. She had been one of his biggest headaches, with her klutzy behaviour breaking various apparatuses and ruining potions galore during her years at Hogwarts. Somehow, she had scrapped an O from her OWLs in Potions and Severus had been forced to endure her for two more years.
Bloody hell, that Hufflepuff is an Auror?
"Ms. Tonks." Severus acknowledged, and he had just realized that he did not even know the name of the boy he had been following for the past hour.
Harry.
That was the name of her boy.
"Well, my shift is going to be done in a minute," Tonks quickly cast a time spell, "Harry, why don't we go have dinner somewhere nice and respectable?"
"Japanese would be nice..." Harry suggested.
Tonks nodded, "Sounds like a lovely choice... Why don't we Apparate to Muggle London?"
"I better get on with my shopping," Severus dismissed himself from the pair. As Severus walked away he couldn't help thinking about the boy's eyes. This was the first time he had been close enough to observe the boy properly as he had always fled the other way in the past. Sure, lots of dark-haired Wizards had green eyes, but there had always been something special about her eyes.
He had her eyes...
Could this be the Potter that everyone's been looking for?
Severus Snape was fuming when he left the Great Hall in the morning with dung smears all over his usual black set of teaching robes. The source of this morning's migraines had come in the form of well-placed Dungbombs hidden underneath seemingly random seats throughout the entirety of the Great Hall. The younger students were desperately asking the older years for vanishing charms to remove the messes on their robes, while the older years were then dismayed to find that the dung could not be vanished by conventional means.
He had taken a look at the Gryffindor table then, to see if the usual bunch of hooligans were involved in this latest scheme, to find Fred Weasley frantically pointing his wand at his twin brother with the telltale swish of an Evanesco, in an attempt to remove the brown matter from the boy's shoulders and chest. He had been taken aback then, were the Weasley twins Slytherin enough to Dungbomb themselves to prevent detection?
He wasn't sure.
And, were they clever enough to charm the 'dung' to be non-vanishable? His brain said no, while his gut said yes. He knew that, even though Fred and George did horribly on any written test in Potions, their talent in the field was unmatched by anyone in their year. Through his years of observations, he had seen them tweak methodologies and recipes when they thought he was looking the other way. He had been astounded the first time when their methods yielded superior results. He might be what his students call an uncaring bastard, but he had his own ways of encouraging talent. In the case of the twins, he would subtly allow them to brew more innovative Potions, while the rest of the class brewed textbook-approved brews.
He often brought the fruits of the twins' labour to Madam Pomfrey. But it would be a cold day in hell before he was going to reveal that particular secret.
He went to his own quarters first, where he flung his dirty robes into the to-be-washed basket and changed into a fresh set. It was a pity that there wasn't any charm available to completely remove the stench of Dungbomb on his person. After a quick sip of a foul tasting green Potion to relieve the growing pain in his head, he elegantly made his way to his classroom, to prepare himself for teaching his traditionally most challenging class – first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.
He had to wait twenty minutes before the first student showed up. The Headmaster had given all the students an extra thirty minutes to go change into a fresh set of clothes. This led him to think about the mysterious boy he had followed back the other day in Knockturn Alley. He wasn't even sure if the boy was Potter's brat or not, despite the uncanny resemblance of the boy's eyes to her eyes.
But certainly, Severus knew that he would not tell Dumbledore about what his suspicions were. That would be incredibly un-Slytherin of him. He also knew that he needed to have a chat with Minerva and Filius to see if his thoughts on Albus Dumbledore have reached the same page as theirs.
It always seemed to him that they knew a hell of a lot more than he did.
"So, Harry, have you seen the Daily Prophet today?" Forest Malfoy, dressed in a forest green shirt and his usual pair of jeans, asked over the table laden with breakfast.
Harry stuck his fork containing a piece of sausage in his mouth and chewed while his brain formulated another sarcastic witticism.
Let me guess... Rita Skeeter strikes again.
"No, I haven't." Harry finally replied, "Might as well hand it over."
Forest handed his student the daily newspaper, and Harry found himself scanning the front page, once again.
Dumbledore in the Dark about our Saviour's Whereabouts
A Continuation of our earlier Scoop by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the Int'l Confed. Of Wizards and Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry claims that he has no information regarding the whereabouts regarding Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. It is noted that Albus Dumbledore, a decade ago, was quoted saying "Harry Potter is now located in a safe place where no wizard wishing to retaliate for the murder of *you-know-who* can find him. I reassure the entirety of the Wizarding World that the boy is safe and well-cared for until he is of age to attend Hogwarts." in an interview barely over a decade ago with the Daily Prophet.
There are rumors that our Chief Warlock is losing his touch. One old friend of Albus Dumbledore was quoted saying "Albus Dumbledore is slipping. His once brilliant ability to plan and execute his methods is decaying as I speak." Of course, said friend chose to remain anonymous, as he fears prosecution or retaliation from the Headmaster, who's high up the chain of political power in our society.
The feasibility of a nation-wide Harry Hunt has been studied and the Head of Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, has issued a statement saying that such a Hunt would be postponed until further notice after public uproar demanded that action should be taken to locate the young Harry Potter immediately after last week's publication regarding the boy's disappearance. No reason was offered by the Head, but judging by our Grand Sorcerer's dubious behaviour, our speculations lie within this line of reasoning.
"Merlin, she's sinking her teeth into Dumbledore, that's for sure." Harry observed, "But, what I really do wonder, Forest... is how does she get all this dirt? Like about this 'friend' of Albus."
"Well, she could be making it up..." Forest mused, "But she could be sued for libel..."
"I am pretty sure there must be a method to her madness," It was Tonks who interrupted. She had emerged from her bedroom with her hair in purple spikes, and wearing her Auror Trainee robes. "Rita's been writing scandalous stories for years and very few were able to squeeze any form of damage money out of her."
"Where's Hadrian?" Harry changed the subject, as he started to tackle the omelet on his plate with a fork and knife.
"With Rosalind and her 'precious'," Forest groaned. Rosalind had taken to calling the egg her 'Precious' after listening to Forest read snippets from the Lord of the Rings to Hadrian, Harry and whomever cared to listen in before Hadrian's bedtime. "My boy is starting to prefer the company of dragons instead of humans."
"Well, I am off to work. I've got my bloody Tracking test today. Wish me luck, boys!" Tonks made her adieu and left with a 'break a leg' from Forest and a 'good luck' from Harry.
"Well, Rosalind reckons the dragon in the silver egg is male." Harry said conversationally.
"That's nice." Forest looked down at his strip of bacon that was tangled in his fork.
"So, are you going to the Winters' Ball?" Harry asked his mentor, "I mean there's a high probability that Lucius is going to be there."
"Now, that's always a fun thought." Forest grinned with mischief, "I think I will go send my tuxedo out to the dry-cleaners. Nothing beats a good old Bondian suit. I hope Severus shows up, it's been years since we've had any form of communication."
"I take that as a yes?" Harry laughed.
"Hell yeah. It's too good of an opportunity to squander, and from what I've heard of Edward Winters from your friends over at Hogwarts, he sounds like a kindred spirit." Forest smiled, "So, who's showing up today?"
"Blaise, he's staying till he goes back to Hogwarts – His mother left for a two week trip to the Caribbeans with what Blaise calls 'sordid affair number I've already long bloody lost count'." Harry chuckled and then sighed, "I better go dust out his room for him."
"Poor him," Forest looked sympathetic, "Being the son of the Black Widow can't be too easy for him, can't it?"
When Blaise had gotten off the Hogwarts Express, and parted with all his friends, with promises from everyone to visit, promises to go shopping in Diagon Alley in preparation for the Ball, and his rather empty trunk shrunken down in the pocket of his own Muggle trench coat which Hannah and Hermione had ganged up on him to buy the previous summer, he got on the tube to ride the few stations to the street where the Leaky Cauldron was situated at. Heidi walked happily beside him, eager to see her Master, her tail wagging crazily.
Walking through the dimly lit Leaky Cauldron with Heidi in tow, Blaise found himself remembering days past where he, Harry, Hermione and Hannah had spent many meals and conversations. It had been some of the happier times in his life, where different days spent between Henry and with the gang could make him forget about his own non-existent family life. He acknowledged Tom with a nod in his direction, while the proprietor had given him a toothless grin back.
It didn't take him long to find the building which housed Harry's flat. He trudged up the stairs with his dragonhide boots and he pressed his palm against the centre of the wooden door. He shuddered when a glow was emitted from his hand and golden light started tracing a complex pentagram which then extended out into spirals.
Finally he heard a click, and the door swung open. Smiling, Blaise walked in with an eager Heidi, happy that the newly formulated wards had accepted him.
Only to be greeted to the sight of a snarling copper scaled dragon. The dragon stood on top of Harry's couch, and had spread out her impressive wingspan in a menacing way after noticing Blaise's entrance.
Heidi snarled back loudly, baring her own set of fearsome canine teeth. She was the reason why Blaise hadn't turned tail and fled back out the door. Half-grown dragon or not, Blaise did not relish combat with a being who could eat a human for breakfast and a few more for lunch.
A little warning about the flat's occupants would be nice, Harry.
Blaise could hear Heidi's projection loud and clear.
:. Who are you – dragon-beast? .:
The dragon roared, but Blaise heard a familiar slithering noise and saw Zaliss glide elegantly on the floorboards. The great snake flicked his tongue in the direction of Blaise, and made a nodding gesture towards the boy, before bursting out into a series of hissing.
Blaise was surprised to see the dragon calm down, and actually hiss something back to Zaliss.
Merlin, are these two bloody having conversation, here?
:. I don't know, Blaise. I don't understand Parseltongue or Dragon-tongue anymore than you do. .:
:. I think Harry is sometimes, really insane. A dragon? .:
"Hey, I take it you are Blaise?" A man that Blaise thought looked eerily familiar despite his dress of Muggle casual attire strode towards the boy. "Hey there, Heidi! I am Forest. Sorry about that – I was in the laboratory, brewing."
"Uh... Nice to meet you, Forest," Blaise reached out to shake the man's hand, while Heidi eagerly sniffed the man's feet and to send out a few greetings of her own, "So, I take it, that my room is still my room?"
"No one's touched anything since you bunch left for Hogwarts. Harry did do a quick dusting and airing charm in your room though - earlier," Forest smiled at the boy, "Oh yes. Rosalind!"
Blaise's jaw dropped when the snarling dragon from earlier turn slowly around from her conversation with Zaliss to fix her brownish- gold eyes at Forest.
"This is Blaise Zabini. You should probably apologize... he's Harry's friend."
A dragon apologizing? This is fucking weird.
Blaise watched as Rosalind gave him a curious look, and then took off, with her large wings propelling her to the wall that had a large whiteboard. She gripped one of the markers and removed the cap with her mouth. She wrote 'SORRY' in big letters and recapped her marker before flying to her original spot on the couch, which Heidi had claimed in her absence. An indignant snarl-fest was initiated, but Forest paid no heed.
"It's alright," Blaise found himself saying, "Just scared the shit out of me. Where's everyone else?"
"Tonks is out – doing her job... Harry's at well... I think Ivan's and Remus took my son out to frolic in the snow. I think today's Harry's last day of lessons."
"That's good. I have a question though." Blaise said as he started walking towards his room, which had the words Blaise Zabini etched neatly in his handwriting on the door.
"What is it?" Forest asked, curiously.
"You remind me of someone I've seen before. I think..."
"Ah. My surname is Malfoy."
"Oh, that explains it." Blaise looked curiously at the man, "So, how come I've never heard about you?"
"Abraxas' bastard child," Forest grinned rather inanely, "It has its perks... trust me. I've spent most of my recent years in America, anyways. Now if you don't mind – I've got Potions to tend to."
"Of course not," Blaise finally kicked his slightly ajar door wide open and entered the recently dusted room.
This living arrangement is going to be bloody interesting.
A/N: Happy New Year!
Review – please? :D