A Different Type of Dragon
Disclaimer (and Author's Note): I'm running out of ideas for these disclaimers. Do you think it's possible for me to make the disclaimer longer than the story? Probably not this time, since it's quite a long story. Maybe I could incorporate the author's note in here somewhere? I'll have to change it from 'Disclaimer' to 'Disclaimer and Author's Note'. I'll just do that.
Right. This isn't mine, never was mine, never will be mine, won't be mine under any circumstances, wasn't ever mine, isn't mine at the moment, wasn't mine yesterday, won't be mine tomorrow or any time, no matter how much I wish it, and proves that I, contrary to popular belief (haha), am not J K Rowling.
And, as anauthor's note, I know it's a bit odd. I've written it from Draco's PoV and it's set in his first year. Remember when he discovers Norbert? Well, it's got that in it, and then a bit later to explain why he hates Hagrid so much. I don't know why I did it, so don't ask, please. And, as it says in Fahrenheit 451, 'Don't tell me what I'm doing, I don't want to know.' Or something like that.
Enjoy… maybe.
Why was it that, every time I wanted a moment's peace, his huge face loomed in front of me? Why, when I was trying to concentrate in Potions, did his oafish grin swim in front of my cauldron? Why, when I had trouble completing my History of Magic homework, did I find myself drawing his hairy features? And why, when I should have been scheming and planning a way to get back at the Gryffindors, was I sneaking out to his hut to watch him?
I was bored listening to Crabbe and Goyle, which wasn't surprising because they are even stupider than Hagrid. In the end, after hours of nodding and making unhelpful comments without really engaging my brain, I finally dragged myself out of the Slytherin common room. For some unknown reason, I found myself making my way towards the giant git's hut.
To my complete and utter horror, all the curtains were shut. He wasn't doing anything illegal, was he? But why should I care? He was only the gamekeeper. What did it matter to me?
Voices were escaping from inside the hut. Familiar voices, and the last ones I wanted to hear. And they were saying things I didn't want to hear, either. I crept around the hut, looking for a gap in the curtains where I could peer through. Eventually, I found one.
At first, all I could see was the fire, built up to a roaring heat. Potter, Weasley and Granger were sweating profusely. Then I saw the eggshells… so many eggshells… and wondered whether he was breeding chickens. I kicked myself for that. After half a year of watching Hagrid, I should have known better than to assume that he might be breeding some boring, harmless little muggle bird. No, it would be something much more dangerous. And then I saw the dragon.
It was obviously recently hatched, even if the pieces of eggshell everywhere weren't enough of a clue. It tottered about, trying to get used to its legs. I saw the look of pure adoration Hagrid gave it and felt betrayed.
Suddenly, his face went totally white and I knew he'd seen me. That was the last thing I needed, although, as Father often told me, a Malfoy could use anything to his advantage.
I ran up to the castle, hearing the door of the hut slam open and knowing, as I sprinted away, that Potter and co. had seen me. Despite my initial thoughts, that could be useful.
I didn't tell anyone, but I put Potter and his friends on edge by smiling nastily every time I saw them. I knew that, sooner or later, they would persuade Hagrid that the Norwegian Ridgeback had to go. And then I would have Hagrid to myself and he could love a different type of dragon.
Two weeks after the Ridgeback had gone, I saw Hagrid, saw the Look he gave me, and wanted to scream, to slap him. All that effort, all that not-quite-blackmail, and for what? A Look that said 'I hope the ground swallows you up very soon.' It wasn't fair.
I turned hard and bitter, and used every opportunity I had to punish Hagrid for hating me. In time, I forgot why I hated him, but it didn't matter. I knew that, a long time ago, he had started it.
AN: See disclaimer