The afternoon sky was pale blue, with not a cloud in sight. A fine day, that was much colder than it looked. His fur cloak streamed out behind him, ruffled by the wind.

He knocked on the door. Hagrid's brown eyes appeared in the slit, and they narrowed as he saw Hydrus. Nonetheless, the door opened for him.

Inside, a fire was roaring away in the hearth, bright orange, and already, after having walked through the door, perspiration began to run down Hydrus' nose. The heat didn't bother him, not after watching fire crackle on his palms.

"Close the door," Hagrid said listlessly.

He did, and then walked the length of the room right to the edge of the fire.

"What're yeh doin'?" Hagrid demanded angrily.

Hydrus ignored him.

The fire in the hearth was hot, very, very hot, and some part of his mind registered the fact, but his body just couldn't seem to feel it.

"It's not hot enough," Hydrus told him. He had been reading on that all day at the library. Dragon fire should be almost all blue, so hot that any mortal man standing close to a flame as great as this would be torched. The fire in Hagrid's hearth was a pitiful blend of orange and yellow, a cold thing made from wood.

Hagrid scowled. "What do yeh mean?"

"It's too cold." Hydrus rolled up his sleeves and stuck his hand into the fire, as he always did when he came over. Hagrid muffled a gasp. The egg tingled in his hand, black and polished almost to a sheen. "A dragon's fire should be hotter than this."

"And wha' do yeh want me to do abou' that?"

"There's nothing you can do about it," Hydrus informed him. He willed his hands to light. The fire that came was bright blue, and for a moment, the egg seemed to turn even more reflective. "It should be bright like this."

Hagrid harrumphed.

"Hermione has her bluebell flames," Hydrus continued, staring at the polished surface of the egg. It seemed almost blue, reflecting the fire. How long had it been? There was another week, at most, before the egg would hatch. "I think I can procure something from her."

Hagrid muttered a gruff thanks.

The egg was heavier than it looked, and soon, his arms began to ache from the exertion. For a long time, no one said anything.

And then suddenly, there was a crack.

Hagrid leapt from his seat and raced to Hydrus' side. "It's hatchin'!" he cried. "Look!"

A thin line, jagged and black, marred the top of the egg.

"I want to hold i'," Hagrid demanded.

Hydrus looked at him oddly. "It's on fire."

Whether or not Hagrid heard his words, he didn't know, but mittened hands snatched the egg right from him.

"'S a beautiful thing," he murmured. And then, he stuck his head inches away and whispered to it, "Yer papa is here, Norbert. If ye wanna come out, don' be afraid."

"You should be keeping warm," Hydrus tried to tell him. "Especially since your fire from before was too cold."

When Hagrid raised his head, it was only to glare at him. "Wha' do ye know 'bout dragon breeding?"

More than you, Hydrus wanted to say. "Little to nothing, but I do know that the Norwegian Ridgeback needs to be kept at a much hotter temperature than other dragons."

"Yes, yes," he muttered carelessly. "I rea' that as well."

"You see, Hagrid," Hydrus said, forcing himself to levels of superhuman patience. "The fire wasn't nearly hot enough, which means that some bad will happen to the egg."

"Somethin' bad?" he repeated mockingly. "Did ter book mention anythin' in particular?"

"No, you see," said Hydrus, "because all of its previous owners were smart enough to keep the egg at a hot enough temperature."

Hagrid dropped the egg on the table with a resounding crack. The wood hissed and sizzled underneath it, and for a moment, Hydrus thought it might catch fire.

"Are ye callin' me stupid?"

Well, yes, technically.

Hydrus itched to say those words, but try as he might, the egg was rolling perilously close to the edge of the table. He caught it with deft hands and saw a whole network of thin cracks that ran all around the egg.

"Should it be this fast?" Hydrus said aloud.

"Now yer asking me?"

He flushed, but some part of him couldn't help but think that something was wrong.

Back in Malfoy Manor, Lucius kept albino peacocks; great feathered birds that lay white eggs. Those birds were always the most predatory when it came time to nesting - once, Hydrus had gotten a great triangular-shaped bite mark in his hand when he ventured too close to the birds. It bled ferociously and stung like hell when the essence of Dittany was applied.

When it came time for the hatching, Narcissa would invite purebloods from near and far to view the entire event. It would take days, some eggs breaking before others, but on average, it took hours before a single peacock, grey-ish with small feathers slick against its body, would crawl from its egg.

All the while, Narcissa boasted of their delicate light sheen, so pure and bright. They were the only albino peacocks in all of Great Britain, bred from generations of Malfoys, imported from one of the French estates.

The dragon was hatching too quickly.

He told Hagrid that, watching as another series of cracks broke the delicate surface.

"Did yer book mention that as well?" he drawled.

With a raw sort of fury still brimming inside of him, Hydrus looked away and stared at the place where Hagrid had dropped the egg. There was a sort of oval-shaped dent there, a light impression in the dark wood. The fall wasn't very big, and yet…

"You shouldn't have dropped the egg," Hydrus told him.

Hagrid opened his mouth, as a great look of fury crossed his face. But it was gone, quickly as it came, and replaced with a wave of desolation. "Yes. Yer right."

And as he spoke, something poked through the egg. Hydrus set it down immediately. Narcissa had told him a thousand times over that hatching eggs were meant to do it on a flat surface. She had made Draco go to bed without supper once, when he tried to touch the arse of a half-hatched peachick.

It was a head; black and purple, with eyes red like fire. Scales, smooth and smaller than the nib of a quill, covered him from the snout to as far as Hydrus could see, except on the top of his head, where the nubs of dark horns lay.

The dragon gave off a soft snarl, and when Hydrus lifted his head, he saw Hagrid, looking almost to the point of tears, as he tried to touch its head.

A rattling sound could be heard, a clicking of some sort and the head of the dragon twitched awkwardly and hissed a soundless hiss at the egg.

"I should help it -" Hagrid began.

The rattling was getting louder and more frenetic, going and going, until suddenly - the egg cracked, and a spindly creature with large paper-thin wings wriggled feebly on the table. Its head was too large for the rest of its body - only, it didn't just have one head.

There were two sets of jaws. Two sets of bright red eyes, two sets of necks thin as reeds. Two sets of nubs for horns, and two sets of nostrils, blowing grey smoke into the air.

"I don' understand," Hagrid was whispering.

Hydrus stared into the red eyes of the head closest to him. They were almost like liquid fire, like bubbling lava spewing from a volcano, bright and powerful. And yet, its head seemed smaller than the other, more sickly, more frail, like a shrivelled prune.

"I do," he said. His voice was brittle and thinner than the bony limbs of the cursed dragon. He knew this would happen, he knew - somehow. It had never been written, and yet… and yet… "You didn't heat the egg enough. The other head - I think… I think it's... a defect."

Dimly, he heard Hagrid let loose a roar so loud it seemed to shake his wooden hut. The dark purple flowers roped around his wall quivered, some falling to the floor.

"He isn't a mistake! Do ye hear me, Hydrus? HE'S PERFECT, AND DON' EVER THINK TO TELL ME OTHERWISE."

And then he burst into tears, as if he were a mother, holding a broken babe in his arms.

_(O.O)_

"It's crippled," Hydrus told Professor Quirrell in a soft, dead voice.

"Crippled? Nothing magic can fix, surely."

His insides squeezed uncomfortably tight. "It's an entire head, sir."

"Well," he stroked his chin, "but it'll be able to fly, surely?"

Hydrus wasn't sure if the dragon would survive past the week. While the larger head ate as much as any newborn-creature might have, it didn't keep any of it down. Hagrid's table had been a mess of chicken-and-brandy slurry, vomited by the head. The other one lay on the table, with its stark red eyes staring into nothingness.

It was more than 'an extra head', as Hydrus had thought. There was something wrong entirely with the anatomy of the dragon, and it seemed that unless they fixed it, Norbert wouldn't eat.

He was mute as well, and moved with a strange, sluggish, crawling movement, grappling the table with the claws on his wings. When Hydrus looked closer, he saw that there were no claws on his feet. His tail was a wispy thing, that started as one and forked abruptly in two. Norbert swished it as he crawled, but it only seemed to keep him off balance.

Hydrus told Professor Quirrell all of that.

"That is… unfortunate. It seems you won't be getting a new pet."

His words cut deeper than Hydrus might've liked to admit.

"But it might survive," he said in a quiet, desolate voice.

"Muggles," Professor Quirrell sighed, "have ways to bypass things like this. Wizards, however…" He looked at Hydrus. "Well, go on. Speak. What is it you have in mind?"

"I think… I think we might need to… contact... the Romanian dragon keep."

"We?"

"I meant -" Hydrus looked down, a rapid flush blossoming on his cheeks, "- me. I'll write a letter to them. About Norbert."

"I bid you good fortune, then."

"But I'll need… I need you to do something for me," he stuttered, feeling very awkward.

"Do tell."

He knows, and he's still going to make me say it?

A flush of anger spiked through him, but Hydrus pushed it down. "They'll need a representative on behalf of the school."

Professor Quirrell smiled. "Why… I do believe I just might know a person who can fit your criteria." He twitched his fingers and a feathery quill appeared in his hands. "But as you must know by now, nothing comes without a price, Hydrus. I do believe I will be setting terms for this." And as he spoke, a yellowed parchment unravelled on the table, and a pot of black ink appeared beside it. Professor Quirrell dipped the tip of his quill and looked up. "Well, don't look at me like that."

_(O.O)_

Hydrus met Hermione outside, in the crisp, cool wind of late March, with a bright blue sky and white fluffy clouds to keep them company.

"- and there's just so many herbs and creatures to remember," she was saying. "I just don't think I'll be able to do as good on these exams as I might've done back in my old primary school."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Hydrus told her airily.

In the far distance, Hagrid's hut was a brown splotch, with thick, greyish smoke spouting from the chimney.

Norbert still wasn't eating. All Hagrid could do was drop tiny droplets of water down his throat - and even still, sometimes, Norbert would have all of it come out. His two heads drooped low against the table, and just yesterday, when Hydrus skipped History of Magic, Hagrid couldn't even muster his customary loathsome glare towards him. His eyes were so swollen and red that they were no bigger than slits.

"He's going to die," Hagrid whispered mournfully. "He's going to die."

And then he burst into tears once more.

"But of course," Hermione was saying, "I talked to Professor McGonagall, and she agreed that the end-of-year exams were essential in evaluating our knowledge of magic. And get this, Hydrus - are you even listening to me?"

There was a long pause, where Hermione looked at him expectantly, and Hydrus stared off into the distance, down south-east, where Romania was.

"Well?" she demanded.

How many miles separated Great Britain from Romania? Hundreds, thousands - too many. Even Caeruleus, prized for his swiftness couldn't make it there within a day or two.

There wasn't enough time.

"I need to write a letter," Hydrus said suddenly.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "Pardon?"

He ignored her, rushing down the field of green grass, with his heart beating in his chest. Hermione raced after him, shouting questions as they ran.

"I need a quill," Hydrus roared when they reached inside the castle. "Some parchment, and some ink."

The people in the Great Hall stopped to look at him oddly. They seemed frozen in shock - idiots all of them. Someone needed to move. Someone.

"Marcus Flint," Hydrus said breathlessly. "Give me your quill."

He raced to the Slytherin table on the far end and Hermione might have followed if they didn't all give her scathing glares. He scrawled a message at the bottom of Flint's essay. His writing was messy and barely passable in the least, but he couldn't do anything about that. His fingers felt stiff and frozen as he scrawled a message.

"Thank you," he said quickly, setting down the quill, and knocking over the pot of ink in the process.

Marcus Flint's companions seemed more confused than enraged, but when Hydrus met his eyes, Flint gave a slight nod of consent, and Hydrus ripped out the bottom half of his essay.

He was running down the hallway now, feeling sweat fall into his eyes and the world rush by him. He ascended the steps of the Owlery three-at-a-time, with Hermione a dozen paces behind, her cheeks red with exertion.

There was a confused looking Hufflepuff third year there, tying a letter to a barn owl, that Hydrus almost barrelled over.

"Sorry," he said hastily, before searching the room.

He grabbed the closest school owl he could find, marked by the purple tag around its left talon. "I need you to give this to Amos Diggory," Hydrus told it. His fingers were clumsy as he fed the letter into its beak. "Amos Diggory, head of the Department of Magical Creatures - you know what I'm talking about. Give it to him only, do you understand? Only him."

And then, with his heart beating erratically, Hydrus took a deep breath and pat the owl apologetically on the head. "Go."

It gave him a last look, brown eyes shining with something, before it took off with a flurry of feathers and swept out the window.

The Hufflepuff was gone by then, and it was only him and Hermione, who looked very disgruntled.

"Who's Amos Diggory?" she demanded shrilly.

"He is…" A man I just bribed with ten thousand galleons. "He's someone who can help a… a friend of… mine."

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"It's personal," Hydrus tried.

"Personal," she repeated.

Her eyes were aglow with curiosity.

That evening, as they toiled away in the library, something whistled through the air and came to a steady halt on Hydrus' parchment.

Hermione closed her book. "What is it?"

It was a deep plum, folded into the shape of a paper airplane. When Hydrus unfolded the strangely muggle-like invention, he felt a sudden shiver of horror.

The penmanship was flowery and elegant, signed with the flourish of a wrist and a stamp of green-and-gold wax.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. That man was truly more stupid than what the world believed.

Written in silvery ink were too many words, too many assurances, almost as if whoever had written this was being almost pompous about it. To think… if he could be caught like this…

In the letter, Amos Diggory, Head of the Department of Magical Creatures had agreed to come at midnight, to the highest tower, with a team of 'capable wizards' to help treat the young Norwegian Ridgeback. Hydrus wondered if they were all just as capable as their boss.

A shiver went through him. Perhaps Amos Diggory would come tonight to the Astronomy Tower only to arrest him. Perhaps he would come with a band of wizards only to slaughter Norbert… perhaps… perhaps… perhaps…

But of one thing, Hydrus was certain.

Norbert needed this, and if anything, he sort of owed it to Hagrid.

Hydrus held the letter carefully in his hands, caught in a sea of his thoughts…

"... I am most pleased with our correspondence. Signed, Amos Diggory," Hermione read aloud, too loud. The letter was in her hand, and all the power to incriminate him. "Hydrus, what is this?"

For a moment, he felt his veins turn cold.

Damn Amos Diggory. Damn him and all of his stupid, pompous brain. It was written out there for the world to see. Hydrus snatched the letter from Hermione's hands and lit it afire.

She backed away with a sudden horrified gasp. "So you can."

Hydrus shrugged, and dusted his hands off the cinders, trying to console himself with the fact that grey ash wouldn't truly show on a red carpet - but also, that Hermione would ask no more questions. "I can."

"And what - what was written - I don't understand - I -"

"Amos Diggory," Hydrus swore, "can't shut up… I shouldn't have written to him."

Hermione was still looking at him with a strange look on her face. "You have a dragon?"

"Not me, a friend. Regardless, this is highly illegal," Hydrus told her sharply, "so don't tell anyone." His voice had reached a shrill volume. He lowered it hastily. "Listen, this is none of your concern so -"

"At midnight," Hermione said slowly, more to herself than Hydrus, "you're going to bring a dragon, a dragon to the Astronomy Tower."

"To save its life."

"This… this is against the rules!" Hermione said suddenly. "Does Professor Dumbledore know you're doing this? Is it safe? What if something happens and we all die?"

"Listen," Hydrus said impatiently, "I saved your life once, so I think in return, you ought to have the decency to not go prattling to Dumbledore."

"I wasn't going to," she insisted, and then looked down, blinking furiously.

He crumpled a little on the inside, but a part of him was more worried about what would happen at midnight.

Hydrus didn't have the patience to deal with her tears today, rare as they were. "I'm going to bed," he told her. And just to make himself feel better, he squeezed Hermione's shoulder as he left the library.

_(O.O)_

He met Hagrid in his sweltering hut, before ripping off the silvery Cloak and nodding a curt greeting him.

"How is he?" Hydrus said, as the ever-present fire crackled in the hearth.

Hagrid had somewhat neatened himself up, even going as far as borrowing some of that disgusting lotion Narcissa sent Hydrus every month for his face. The swelling had gone down, and with some ice and tea, his nose and voice didn't seem too bad.

"He's alive," Hagrid whispered.

His mittened hands were gentle and delicate as they lifted Norbert from his nest in the fire. The poor dragon opened its eye lazily, and for a moment, Hydrus realized that his scales had a sickly greyish hue to them. His body seemed to have shrunk as well.

His great wings were bones and tight skin, stretched almost painfully. They were almost translucent, like a thin film of old parchment that might be broken from the slightest movement. His two heads looked odder than ever on his disproportionately sized body, and when he exhaled, no more smoke came from his nose.

In silence, Hagrid wrapped Norbert with thick covers and stroked his head one more time.

When they were ready, Hydrus swished the Cloak over himself. Hagrid stopped, however, to look at the place where he had once been.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Hydrus shrugged, though, with the Cloak on, it was hard to see. "Come on. Midnight is in twenty minutes."

When they set off, the sky was a deep blue, and stars twinkled in the night sky. They were stopped on the fourth floor by Mrs. Norris, who sniffed at the spot where Hydrus was uncertainly, before Hagrid waved his big hands and shooed the cat away.

"We should ge' moving," he said into the darkness. "Before she comes back wi' Flich."

Slowly, climbing the many steps of the Astronomy Tower, they ascended to find desks filled with telescopes, parchments quills and inks, and -

"Pr'fessor Quirrell," Hagrid breathed. He glanced around him, as if looking for Hydrus. "I didn't know ye woul' be here, sir."

Hydrus himself felt a little bit of reassurance, strange as it was. With Professor Quirrell here, Amos Diggory would have a harder time trying to arrest him. Be that as it may, Hagrid looked about ready to sink to his knees and confess all the wrongs he had ever committed.

Hydrus ripped off the Cloak and watched as Professor Quirrell's eyes turned to him.

"There you are," he said. His dark eyes studied him appraisingly for a moment. "I suspected that you would do as much. The scene you made at the Great Hall -" he tittered "- very unprofessional. Though, it does seem that you have been learning."

His eyes went from Hydrus to Hagrid.

"I have been."

A minute until midnight…

Hydrus took off the cover of the basket and Hagrid set Norbert carefully onto an empty table.

Just as he did so, a group of wizards flew down from the sky, gold-and-green cloaks trailing after them. They caught the moonlight as easily as kindling caught flame. Hydrus cursed under his breath.

Anyone looking outside their window - unlikely as it may be - would see seven glowing stars, whistling through the sky.

"So you see?" Professor Quirrell said. "This is why I came."

He waved his wand, and the seven glowing stars glowed no more.

Amos Diggory was a tall, broad-shouldered man, lean and rugged with greying hair, and a pompous smirk to his lips. His entourage, it seemed, was slightly better mannered than their boss, and one of them even apologized for their overt flamboyance.

Throughout it all, Professor Quirrell seemed to sink into the shadows, unseen by everyone caught in the turmoil.

Amos Diggory, despite all of his acts, knew what he was doing. How many hours passed, Hydrus didn't know, but his group of wizards were always moving. They fed him juices down his throat, with a minuscule bottle of gel drops, and held him steady as he vomited some of it out. They bathed him in pinkish water that smelled of rose petals, towelled him dry, counted his teeth, counted his toenails (of which he had none), and marvelled at the unusual claws on the tips of his wings.

"I don't understand," one of the wizards said, as he wiped a thick drop of sweat from his forehead. "Where did you get the egg?"

He looked at Hagrid, who suddenly wasn't meeting anyone's eyes.

Amos Diggory looked up from where he was, crouched over the table, looking at Norbert's dark red eyes. His gaze went from his colleague to Hydrus.

Don't ask questions, Hydrus had written on his note.

"Our job is to help magical creatures in need," Amos Diggory said sharply.

His voice carried in the wind, and for a moment, it was all they could hear. And then suddenly, it was cut short, and the whistling of the wind was all that could be heard.

Hydrus looked at the far shadowy corner, where no one had spared a second glance. Professor Quirrell stood still as a shadow and nodded to him.

Was that why he had come?

To smooth everything over?

It was hard to say. The entire thing was a very peaceful affair after that, as Amos Diggory spoke orders in a stout voice, and the soft clanking of instruments and clear-cut voices of responses were the only things to be heard. Hydrus chose a chair and fell asleep.

The sky was lightening when Amos Diggory woke him up.

His features were drawn, and he moved shakily. "He'll be alright," he said. "He will live."

And for the first time, Norbert raised his dark heads and stared at Hydrus with his eyes bright red like fire.

Stiffly, feeling his back ache and his shoulders groan, he gave him the bag of gold galleons. They felt heavier than a thousand pounds, but Hydrus would have given a thousand bags more, even if just to see Norbert raise his head as proudly as that.

Hagrid was crying, crying as he had in the past two days, with thick globulous tears falling from his eyes - but they were tears of joy, and he laughed and hugged each of them, save Professor Quirrell who watched in the shadows, as if invisible.

The sky was red as blood when Amos Diggory and his colleagues prepared themselves to depart, and the birds were alive, chirping and flying from branch to branch, as if to celebrate Norbert's new-found life.

"Thank you," Hagrid said for the hundredth time, cradling Norbert in his great hands.

And just as they were about to leave, Professor Quirrell stood from the shadows, glowing with power.

"Stop," he commanded.

His voice was softer and lighter than the crisp morning wind, and yet they all stopped to stare.

He swished his wand, and suddenly, their limbs went rigid, and their faces were a mask of horror. Hydrus leaped from his chair and furrowed his eyebrows to Professor Quirrell.

"Sir," he said tersely. "What are you doing?"

Hagrid was frozen with the rest of them as well, and his eyes burned with hatred. They all did.

Professor Quirrell paid him no attention, before flicking his wrist and whispering, "Obliviate. You will forget that Hydrus Malfoy ever called upon your service, you will forget that you ever knew he possessed an illegal dragon. Go now. Fly back to the Ministry. You were never here."

He released the body-bind, and in silence, watched as Amos Diggory and his colleagues looked around with slight confusion, before hopping on their broomsticks and flying off to the rising sun.

"What did ye do?" Hagrid roared.

"Nothing," Professor Quirrell said, and then pointed his wand at him and murmured Obliviate. "You never saw any of this happen. For all you know, they left with the payment, and Norbert is fine."

Only until he said those words, did Hydrus realize that Amos Diggory indeed hadn't taken the sack full of galleons.

Hagrid blinked his eyes, said a goodbye to Hydrus and Professor Quirrell, and then collected the basket, and covered Norbert under his blanket.

"You - you changed all of their memories." He gasped, despite his best efforts. "Why?"

Professor Quirrell tucked his wand away. "You saw him. A man such as the likes of Amos Diggory would never let ten thousand galleons be spent in silence. It will take a week, perhaps a month, but word will leak, and when that time comes, your name will be dragged into the mess."

"Oh."

"Well, go on then," Professor Quirrell said. "There is time before breakfast, and you look like an absolute disaster."

A/N:

Dun dun dun duuuun...

Norbert will live... but can he fly?

Who knows?

The next 2-3 chapters won't focus on Norbert (or rather, Norberta, as they'll soon find out), but rather on something... very different..

But don't worry KingZeRoPL - he (she, technically) will come back to the story along with a certain character...

I'm using this 'triple dot' thing a lot today XD

Thanks a lot lot lot lot lot to everyone who has made it so far into my story - as I pointed out last week there is a bunch of useless fluff written into the first ten/thirteen chapters, and I'm currently working on cutting that out.

So if you've made it this far...

Wow!

You guys have a lot of patience.

As always, thanks for reading!

See you next week

Cheers