Title: The Silver Stag (May be changed later)

Author: Shenlong [the_solitary_dragon@hotmail.com]

Archive: Fanfiction.net, under Water Dragon, and my site, the_solitary_dragon.tripod.com.

Category: Romance, possible angst later

Keywords: 7th year, Harry, Silver stag

Rating: PG (Possibility of PG-13 later, but not likely)

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Warnings: SLASH, aka male/male relationships. Nothing graphic. Continual use of "The Stag", Harry talks to animals. A bit of angst.

Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, everything seems peachy-keen. But is it really? And who is that mysterious Animagus?

Author's Notes: 1600 odd words. Not too bad, I suppose. I'm used to writing 2000 and up, but it was the perfect place to stop! Really!

Thanks/Dedication: To Ashkara, my beta, and to beautifulelf, for reviewing! Thank you! *huggles*

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (Disclaimer used is from Fictionalley.org and/or RestrictedSection.org. Again, no copyright or trademark infringement intended.)

~*~*~*~

Chapter 1


Draco Malfoy was an enigma. Throughout most of the war, he remained as a valuable trump card. His knowledge of the Dark Arts was extensive, but so was his knowledge of Hogwarts' physical defenses, if not magical, and secret passageways (perhaps not quite up to par with the Marauder's Map, but close), since he was a Slytherin prefect for his fifth and sixth years.

Right before the Death Eaters lost an important battle (in fact, it was a matter of a few hours), he chose to serve under Dumbledore for the duration of the war. Futures historians will note that it is at this battle that Voldemort started losing the war. After the war ended, it was debated whether Draco had indeed tipped the scales in favor of the Light in refusing Voldemort and his father. When asked, Dumbledore simply smiled and offered a lemon drop.

As one of Teen Witch Weekly's "The 25 Most Eligible Wizards Under 25" [1], Draco was chased after by numerous girls (and quite a few guys too). Most Hogwarts students, even Gryffindors, had at some time or another referred to Draco as the "Slytherin Sex God", though it seemed that no one knew what he was like in bed. In fact, the only interest he had shown anyone, past casual flirting, was when he took Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball in fourth year, much to the chagrin of his admirers. Many wondered at this, asking why he would not take a lover if so many were willing. Rumors had begun to circulate about a secret lover, but they were quickly squashed by Draco himself, loudly and publicly.

Yes, Draco was an enigma. He enjoyed it. Everyone saw his façade for what it was, but no one knew, or dared to find out, what was behind it.

~*~*~

Harry blinked. The stag moved away, as if to give Harry a chance to admire him. His coat was a gleaming silver, only a shade or two lighter than the storm-cloud eyes. A modest, yet still glorious rack of velvety black antlers protruded from his skull. Each leg ended in an almost dainty black hoof.

Harry took the chance to sit up and rub his eyes, and clean his glasses on his robes while he was at it. He stared.

Yes, that was a big, silver stag, over yonder.

~*~*~

The Animagus stag cursed mentally. What in the world and all nine hells was Potter doing here, of all places?! This was his place! How did Potter manage to find this glade in the first place?! He could've sworn he'd warded it securely enough that most wizards were hit by a Repulsion Charm if they set foot within 50 feet of the glade, yet Potter had managed to take a nap in the middle.

Life was so unfair.

~*~*~

"Hello?" Harry said softly. "Are-are you real?"

The stag snorted as if to say, 'Of course! Don't I look real enough for you?'

"What are you, then? You don't really look...natural."

The stag glared.

"I have nothing against you really," Harry said hurriedly. "But I didn't think there were silver stags running around Britain."

The stag tossed his antlers. 'I'm special.'

"Okay, then. Do you...would you mind being petted?"

Hesitant steps forward. A small nod of acquiescence. Then, eyes closed blissfully as a pale hand stroked his flanks.

"You know," Harry went on conversationally, "the last time I saw a silver stag, I was being chased by Dementors."

The stag tensed for a moment.

"I summoned a Patronus. But I don't suppose you would know what it is. Every wizard's Patronus is different. Mine is a silver stag."

Silvery eyes opened and turned to look at Harry. 'Why?'

"My father...his Animagus form was a stag. His nickname was Prongs. Then...he died."

The soft nose nuzzled against Harry's cheek.

Harry sighed. "I don't suppose you'd understand." He flopped down onto the mossy edge of the pond, staring into the clear water inhabited by a few fish.

He felt the stag move-and suddenly, warm breath puffed against the back of his neck. A warm body loomed over him. A silky voice in his ear. "Don't tell me what I don't understand, Potter…"

~*~*~

"Albus…"

"Yes, Minerva?"

"I'm worried about Harry. You know he hasn't been the same after Voldemort fell."

"Aren't we all? None of us are the same as we were. Lemon drop?"

"What? Oh, yes, please-but Albus, he's really changed since that day. You-you know which one." A sob.

"Minerva..." A gentle hug, as a father would give to his daughter. "He's still grieving. We're all still grieving. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were targets from the beginning. They knew that. They accepted it."

"But Harry never accepted it. He never fully understood that his friends and family would be in danger because of him. And he was shocked. He has yet to recover, Albus."

"Time will heal all wounds. Besides, I have a hunch that the all will soon be better."

~*~*~

Harry yelped and barely managed to keep himself from falling into the pond. "Malfoy?! What are you doing here?!"

Draco smirked and moved back, much in the way the stag had. "I could ask you the same, Potter."

"I-I couldn't sleep."

"Really..." Draco drawled. "I couldn't either. Now, tell me why you are in my glade."

"Your glade? This?"

"Do you have a hearing problem in addition to your deficient vision? Yes, I said my glade."

"Bugger off, Malfoy. It's not your glade any more than it's mine."

"You're mistaken, Potter. Truly, I don't even know how you got in here. I thought I 'd warded it so that I was the only one who could even come near."

"Perhaps I'm special."

"Perhaps you are." Draco stretched out languidly on the soft moss, and a strangely comfortable silence fell.

"Draco?" A hesitant query, almost shy.

"It's Draco now, is it? Whatever happened to Malfoy?"

Harry ignored Draco's question. "Why are you an Animagus stag?"

"Why not?" came the sardonic reply.

This jibe, too, was ignored. "You always seemed to be the type of person who would choose something flashier. Like a dragon, or something."

Draco sighed. "Haven't you ever heard that the shape chooses the wizard? Like your wand does? Except that almost all wizards have a wand, and only a select few are Animagi. And, besides, I would have thought that Dumbledore would have taught you how already."

"Well, yeah. But I've always known what I was going to be. Ever since I knew about Animagi, I knew what my form would be if I could do it. So it wasn't really any surprise." [2]

Draco was silent for a moment. "You were lucky, Potter. Most wizards don't have it so easy. The shape a wizard wears has to match his qualities. McGonagall is a cat because she's so mysterious all the time, and can turn up whenever. So being a stag must fit me. And your shape has to fit you." He paused, then added, "Probably a dog, knowing you."

"Bugger off, Malfoy. Why did you even bother to answer my question?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing better to do, really. I suppose, if I have to put up with you being in my glade, I might as well try to keep it more or less quiet. It really wouldn't do to have you whining at me, after all. It's not like it helped anyway."

"I don't whine!"

"Don't you? Why not, because big heroes don't whine? Stop deluding yourself, Potter."

"I'm not. All I wanted to know was why you were civil to me, for once. I thought-"

"You thought what? That we could've been friends? After the Weasel and Mudblood died, now you want to be my friend? I almost hate to tell you this, Potter, but that's not the way it works. Do you remember first year? On the train, you refused me, and chose a Weasley. Any friendship that might have happened was stopped-by you. Don't say you want something you already turned away, Potter." All of this was said in a chillingly low voice, the voice of one who does not yell as he gets angry. Instead, his voice gets soft, and silky, and indeed, he is one to fear, for he retains reason in anger, and plots revenge as one might plan a picnic.

Harry opened his mouth, but found he had nothing to say. He turned, transformed into a white merlin, and took off into the sky.

Draco closed his eyes. 'Stupid...bloody...Harry...Potter,' he thought furiously.

~*~*~*~

To be continued...

~*~*~*~

Footnotes: [1] This comes from chapter 12 of "Draco Veritas", by Cassandra Claire, used with her permission. Thanks, Cassie! *huggles* ^_^ Except it's the 10 most eligible wizards in her fic, not 25.

[2] OK, my reasoning on this is that though Harry's first transfiguration lesson was BEFORE his first flying lesson, he didn't learn about Animagi until later, since McGonagall turned from a cat into herself in the movie, not the book, and I follow book canon. In the book, she turned her desk into a pig, and back. So, knowing already the exhilaration of flying, what else would Harry want to be?