Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own a large quantity of manga and propelling pencil leads. Oh! And an Amazon account

Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions

WARNINGS: Weird half smut XD you'll see what I mean.

A/N

This chapter is stupidly long. I think i might have waffled a bit. Tell me what you think/to shut up in your reviews please!

Thanks for your continued support!

'Pass the salt, would you?'

Lazily, Harry complied, as Ron dusted his perfectly crafted, neatly arranged breakfast plate in pepper, before adding the proffered salt and then mushing it into a big old breakfast pie, gummed together with ketchup, before forking out a sizable lump and stuffing it into his face.

'Not poisoned then,' Harry joked. Ron froze up a for a moment, before glaring at Harry and defiantly chewing. Harry smirked. Mrs Weasley waved at them from across the breakfast hall (all under eighteens were considered children, and were arranged, well spaced, on a long table to one side of the dining hall. Harry was a little disconcerted by the number of pale eyed, sneering, pointed faced children of various ages there were, casting him dirty looks before crinkling their nose at the garnishes.). She took her seat on a smaller table with Mister Weasley and a few other Ministry workers. Harry espied some of their children too, on their table. They looked at each other sympathetically. They didn't want to be here. Their parents had probably dragged them here because they couldn't find them a babysitter. It was quite clear from the disdainful look the Malfoy children gave them that they certainly weren't friends of this hierarchy of pale. Ron, having scoffed his mound of breakfast goods, was hunting for more.

'Is that all we get?' He hissed. 'That's a bit stingy. Malfoy's loaded. He can afford to do a buffet style breakfast.'

'Hah!' Said a young girl about three seats down from Ron. Her elder brother, possibly a year or two younger than Harry and Ron, chided her.

'Forgive Lillianne,' he said gently, but his eyes were cold. 'Where we live, only servants eat buffet style.'

'How darling,' Harry drawled, pushing beans around his plate. Ron promptly pinched one of his slices of toast. There was a snuffling as Ron shoved the toast into the waiting mouth of his podgy penndragonne, who wolfed it down as it were a mere crumb.

'Are you going to take that up for Silver?' Ron asked when Harry set his knife and fork together. Harry yawned.

'No,' he said, and Ron snatched the plate. Harry sighed and more food found it's way down Chudley's neck. 'I'll order something up to the room for him when we get back.'

'Back?' Ron said through a mouth of toast.

'Yes,' Harry droned. 'Back to the room. Silver's bound to the bed.' Ron raised an eyebrow.

'Really?'

'Yes,' Harry repeated irritably. 'You said you saw him in there when you came hunting for me. You know he's in there.'

'Yeah, he was,' Ron said quickly. 'But he wasn't when he left. I guessed you were giving the runt his space.' Harry's frown fell to worry.

'He had to have still been on the bed,' Harry said sharply. 'I bound him there. The bracelet works perfectly.' He raised his arm, bearing a blank, loose friendship band. His eyes bugged. 'What the...?'

'So you didn't let him off the bed?'

'Of course not!' Harry immediately regretted raising his voice. People had begun to look, and attracting attention bothered him a little. Especially when the gargoyle's eyes were following him so eerily. He growled.

'He can't have gone far,' Ron soothed. 'I mean, he doesn't do flying... and his legs are really, REALLY short. Just... finish breakfast... then we'll look for him, alright?' Harry nodded quietly, frowning. He swirled his tea, still black, staring dreamily into it's depths. The darkness of the liquid stirred a memory within him, and he sank into it easily…

'Thanks,' he whispered. The Lizard nodded.

'Anything for a parseltongue. I haven't got many conversation partner's around here, you know.' Harry smiled and swept inside the door, drawing it shut behind him. His ears and eyes immediately ached. It was a vacuum, devoid of light or sound, except for the thud of his heart beat and soft puffs of his breath. He frowned, stepping forwards. His bare feet padded soundlessly on solid, polished coolness. He moved his arms around him in the darkness. There was nothing within his reach. There was a tranquillity about the room that told him he was alone. His back seemed to burning, so he moved further forwards, shrugging off a shiver that threatened to cause more pleasure than discomfort. He rolled his shoulders, shrugging it off. Even away from the heat of the doorway, the room was warm, and it's scent brought with it no specific memory. However, it smelt light, clean, maybe a little sweet, maybe a little sharp. It was a... normal sort of smell, a live sort of smell, and Harry did not deny that he liked it. He shuffled a little. That warmth had been weird. The tingling in his groin was proof of that. Harry fought to ignore it, but it brought to his mind thought he generally reserved for private moments he spent with no one but his body. He groaned somewhat wantonly, before hurriedly pulling out his wand.

'Lumos,' he hissed. The Spell appeared to fail, much to Harry's surprise. However, a small glow emanated from behind him, illuminating just up to where we was standing.

'Useful,' he growled sarcastically. However, his eyes were adjusting, and through the murk he could see, a long way off, he could see a slight lessening in the darkness. He sighed.

'Abrio,' he whispered. The curtains, about twenty feet away, flew open. a shaft of moonlight illuminated the contents of the room. It must have been a bedchamber, due to the huge four poster that dominated this end of the are, about two metres away from Harry. There was a small bookcase, a chest, two doors leading off from the room to the left, and past the ornate and luxurious bed, a desk, some seemingly empty decorative tanks, something which looked somewhat like a venus flytrap, except that it was snoring and set of display shelves. The room was vastly long, ending at the huge French door windows, which opened onto a sumptuous stone balcony. The walls, which were mainly still in shadow, seemed bare, almost under dressed (this feeling was throughout the room, except for the bed), but bore a few portraits and mounted ornaments. The room seemed pale, bland, but lived in. Despite the quality of the contents, the room was so large, and so obviously used that it had a cell like quality which dug into Harry between his ribs. He suddenly gasped and fell forward onto his knees, his back scorching. He could hear the door creaking, but he wasn't interested in that.

'What the hell?' he groaned, his hands against the floor. There was no stimulus, nothing, but he felt torn open, laid bear... and aroused. In fact, more than aroused. He was straining against his trousers as the heat probed into his back, sending searing fingers of pleasure through his body. It felt wrong, it felt strange, but too damn good for him to resist. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. No one nor thing had ever effected him like this.

Must be a booby trap Harry thought foggily, biting his lip and trying to fight it off. Shaking, he tried to move away, but tempting tendrils of warmth seemed to hold him back, encasing him, tenderly touching at him and igniting any passion he had ever contained. He couldn't help but cry out, fragmenting the silence of the room, which awoke the fly-trap, which snapped and grumbled irritably in the moonlight. He clawed at the floor, resting his head against it. It was agony, and pure pleasure. That whole side of the room seemed to be inflamed by this power, tearing to get at him, reaching inside him and drawing him out, but forbidding him defence by heightening that pleasure- that wild, unsustainable, dirty joy that had paralysed him to the spot. His scar, throbbing wildly, seemed to allow him to clear his head of the creeping heat, although he knew he was so close it was maddening. Fighting against his dominating crotch (a war that most men fight daily... and lose- Tasha), he crawled forwards, ever so gently. The heat was determined, clawing, begging, digging into him and drawing him gently back, set on milking him of whatever it was searching for... and perhaps a little more. However, Harry was determined too. Despite the frustration it caused him, he forced himself to kneel and crawled, whimpering, to the nearest door. The heat followed him, intrigued, captivated. Shakily, he took the doorknob in his hand, before jerking it open violently and falling into the next room. The heat suddenly stopped and Harry lay, uncomfortably on the tiles and on his arousal, out of it's reach. There was a strange sort of grumbling from the room he had just left, an angry red glow, before the heat seemed to stalk away, ebbing from the place completely.

When he awoke, the glow of morning illuminated the room, and the first call to breakfast was tolling. Harry figured he had at least another fifteen minutes in which to properly wake up, and reached out to pull his duvet back over him. However, his fingertips trailed across smooth tiles, not cotton, and his eyes flew open. He remembered what had happened, and was glad to note that his hard on had all but gone. However, without stimulus, is was bound to fade. Harry frowned. That had been the weirdest experience, EVER. He groaned and pushed himself up, examining his surroundings. The bathroom, en suite, was vast. A huge plunge pool of a bath, a shower room, large basin and vanity area, all white, swirling pearlescent and lavishly luxurious. The taps were gold, and large, ornate, possibly oriental fishes and sea dragons appeared to swim across the walls, pastel and ridiculously beautiful. The room was cool and pleasant in atmosphere, but without that smell Harry had noted. This room smelled even cleaner, lighter, perhaps a little piney, but closer to the bath, there was a sweetness. Harry turned to see some white jugs. He lifted one (the was pretty small) and inhaled. The mouth watering essence of vanilla assaulted him, and he couldn't help but smile and sigh. It was a good smell. All the jugs smelt of vanilla or other light, pale, sweet smells that Harry enjoyed. He felt much calmer, and his trousers were free entirely of embarrassing bulges. Harry examined himself in the mirror, sighing gently. He picked up the comb, examining it for a second, before arranging his hair a little. A ghostly figure appeared, clouding his reflection.

'You look awful,' it said, sneering, 'but I suppose that's as good as it gets with you.'

'M-m-m...' Harry staggered back, touching his face. The ghost mirrored him, before laughing callously, it's voice echoing eerily.

'Malfoy?' Harry managed to spit. The ghostly formation sighed.

'I wish,' it said lightly. 'I'm just an imitation of perfection.' It looked downcast, pixie features glimmering strangely. 'I help the original. The maids have a habit of rearranging his bedchambers.'

'This is Malfoy's bedroom!' Harry managed. He was shocked. It was lavish, yes, but not much more so than his room. He had expected something... hideously over dressed. Kind of like the original really. The ghost looked furious.

'His name is Draco,' it said bluntly. 'Moron.' And with that it faded sulkily back into obscurity. Harry sighed. It was like talking to wall, which was ironic since a) he was and b) talking to Malfoy generally was equally as fruitless. Harry exited the bathroom quickly, ignoring a mermaid who waved at him coyly from the door, before crossing the room to the door. The second bell had just begun to toll. He tapped the door gently.

'Is it safe come out?' He hissed. The doorknob's head appeared through the wood. It looked a little dull.

'Yes,' it said quietly. 'It has been for some time. No maids will be in this part of the house at this time either. Go, while you can.' Harry nodded a thank you as the head disappeared. He cast one look back across the room, his nose filled with the soft, welcoming scent of Malfoy's existence, before hurriedly exiting. The doorknob was entirely stationary.

'I'll come and visit you,' Harry said quietly. 'Maybe... tomorrow?'

'No!' The doorknob hissed. 'You mustn't come up here tomorrow.' It frowned. 'Tonight?'

'Alright,' Harry agreed, petting it's cold skin, before rushing down the corridor, the hairs on the back of his neck on end. The Chimeras let him pass sulkily, and he broke into a jog, escaping the private wing as quickly and quietly as he could…

'UWAAA!' A voice cried out, but it was the divine combination between that and icy cold water soaking his lower half that drew Harry back from his reminiscing. He yelped and leapt up, but was glad of the water. It's icy cold had subdued a stirring in him, which had been reawakened by the mere memory of the heat. A main lay flat on her face, tray and jug rocking on the floor.

'Here,' Harry hurriedly said, helping her up.

'I am so sorry, young master!' She said desperately. There was something in her face that told him she wasn't used to this. Harry smiled.

'It's alright,' he said lightly. 'Ropus Sequia.' The water vanished from his trousers in a puff

of steam.

'Wow,' the girl managed, before blushing terribly, and sharply apologising again. She gathered up the tray and jug and dashed off back into the kitchens. Two waiters laughed at her as she passed, and one went to kick her, but missed. Harry frowned.

'You alright, Harry?' Ron asked, crossing around to Harry's side of the table.

'Yeah,' he said quietly, putting his wand away. Silver's disappearance weighed heavily on his mind. There were worse things than juvenile chimeras wandering the halls, and they were bad enough.

'Come on,' Ron said, stretching. 'Mum and Dad said something about visiting the village.'

'I'm not really a touristy type of person,' Harry said as Ron walked off. Ron turned back. Harry smiled weakly. 'I might go and look for Silver. Like you said, he can't have gone far. Besides... I have way to much homework to be slacking off all day.'

'When did you turn into the model student?' Ron joked, dragging him out into the large entrance reception room. 'They say there's a branch of Honeydukes down here! And a Zonko's outlet! And Dad said something about Muggle history... I think he's got his heart set on visiting Stonehenge.' Harry reached into his pocket and drew out a galleon.

'Buy me as much as you can with that,' he said firmly, 'and I'll let you copy any essays you want for the next month.' His eyes locked with Ron's, and finally, Ron gave in.

'Alright,' he said. 'If you wanna stay in the creepy manor of count Dracula, then be my guest. I'll bring some good stuff and we'll go snooping later.' Harry laughed and shoved Ron towards his parents, waving.

'Not so loud,' he laughed, 'Or we'll never pass as Scooby-Doo wannabes!'

'Scooby Doo?'

Silver bayed miserably, clawing at the glass that cocooned him. The noxious fumes were stirred up by the slightest movement. Damn his smallness. Silver cursed himself. With these tiny lungs, the poison affected him more and more with each passing second. And the maids... they just passed by, paying no notice. He was just another exhibit. Why didn't they notice him? They knew him! He was special! He mattered! Silver bared his teeth, wheezing and hissing. The tightening of his chest worried him. it worried him a lot. If someone didn't come...

Tap Tap Tap.

Silver turned his head light a whip crack to the sound of a fingertip pressing against the glass. His eyes met with the owner of the finger, and he screamed, backing away in horror. The eyes were on him, cool, calm, but curious. Suddenly, the expression changed, and then again, before a smirk spread across a pallid face. The finger continued it's earth shaking tapping, the glass boiling red whenever the finger touched down. Silver whined in protest, feeling his whole being submit, and watching helpless as he slipped into delirium, and hand reached down to claim him.

Malfoy Manor was a whole new building by day. Harry, a little cautious of the castle's interior, and assured by the staff that he was free to walk the grounds, had ventured outside. The building was white and cream- some sort of stone which Harry couldn't identify offhand, and seemed from the outside to be chateaux like in design, with a large manor house style, two tower like wings and a simple elegance that reeked of a continental influence. The gardens were manicured, unused and generally opulent. There were herb gardens, medicinal gardens, flower gardens, orchards, croquet lawns, a large field (somewhat overgrown) which could have been a quidditch practise pitch (for once in his life, Harry felt a pang of jealously aimed at Malfoy) and a topiary garden full of living topiaries which bickered loudly unless silenced by Spells or passing beasts of a higher ilk. Harry was glad, despite the pendant of blood, to see few Chimera about the place. He vaguely spotted someone he thought was Lucius Malfoy with one at his side, but he was outside the building, so discredited that thought immediately. As he left the immediate grounds, however, Harry was greeted with sight of not just one or two, but nearly a hundred, penned, stamping, glaring, noses filtering air for blood. Harry swallowed hard. Next to the pens and paddocked, which were overcrowded and guarded by pendant wearing men, wands at the ready, was a large, beautiful building with a rustic clock tower. He heard snorting from inside. A stables. Men he recognised vaguely as footmen and drivers were milling around, hefting saddles and harnesses, calling to each other.

'Oi, Martyn!' A voice shouted. 'Get off your fat arse and do some work!' The voice was promptly joined by another.

'Yeah!' It chided. 'These saddles aren't going to polish themselves, you lazy git!' Harry wandered closer, to espy the footman who had been with him, Ron and Mr Weasley the night before, ambling out of the building to set up, soap and cloth in hand. About four saddles were promptly dumped in front of him. He sighed heavily and got diligently to work, but he was clearly troubled.

'You alright?' Harry asked lightly. The young man, who appeared to be called Martyn raised his head, before smiling a little.

'Been better,' he said softly, before getting back to work. Harry frowned.

'Need a hand?' he asked. If anyone would know about a missing magical creature, it would be someone who worked with them. Martyn seemed relieved, and quickly handed him the polish and cloth, pulling out another set for himself. Harry settled himself down the box next to Martyn and started work slowly.

'Rub in small circles with two fingers,' Martyn offered. 'they're already clean. We just need 'em shiny for the hunt this afternoon.' Harry nodded and got to work.

'So this is where you work?' Harry asked vaguely. Martyn nodded.

'Over the summer only,' he replied. 'I'm a distant relative, but that doesn't mean our family is rich. I need the money, more than anything else.' He smiled. 'I'm at a Wizardry University in Central Europe.'

'Cool,' Harry managed. 'What are you studying.' Martyn sighed.

'Bits and bobs. Magical Beast Care... history... a whole lot of different courses.' He smiled weakly. 'Evelyn chose a different course to me. I've always... followed him a bit, so I picked up lots of courses he's on. I like them a lot more than the ones I picked.' He sighed and finished a saddle, setting it on box to be carried inside. Harry frowned.

'Evelyn,' he muttered, before pulling out the pendant. 'He lent this to me. Do you know where he is? He probably needs it back...' Harry trailed off a little when he noted the look on Martyn's face. His pale features had blanched. He raised a powerless hand to touch at the pendant, before shying back.

'W-wh...' he tried. 'When did he give that to you?' Harry frowned.

'Yesterday evening,' Harry replied lightly. 'I want to give it back... and ask about something-' Martyn snatched back his polish and cloth, eyes cold and hard.

'Scram,' he hissed. He looked murderous. Harry tentatively got up.

'What...' he began. 'What did I do?' Martyn snatched up the saddles and stormed off. A boy who'd been polishing nearby sidled over.

'Evelyn's gone missing,' he whispered. Harry's eyes widened. 'All we know is that he took you to the manor last night, and left again.' He swallowed. 'No one has seen him since.' Harry examined the pendant in his hand. The boy wore a similar one. Red glowed around the necks of all the stable hands. It sickened Harry that in an act of kindness towards him, one of them was now bare necked... and lost.

Harry didn't return the pendant. Nor did he ask about Silver. Instead, he left it on a hook where he saw a few others hung and hurried back to the house, up to his room and locked himself in. He lay on the bed, staring at the canopy, and did not stir until Ron disturbed him two hours later.

'Are we going on the hunt or not?' Ron sighed, rubbing his stomach and putting aside yet another bar of Honeyduke's finest.

'What are your parents doing?' Harry enquired.

'They're going,' Ron affirmed. 'Spending time with a few acquaintances they haven't seen in a while, they said.' He sighed. 'I'm not sure I'm up for watching poor defenceless animals getting torn to shreds. Riding a Chimera could be pretty fun, though.' Harry looked out of the window, watching people mill about on the lawn, petting crups and chattering about each other's children.

'You go,' Harry insisted. 'I should be looking for Silver.'

'Did you try just calling him?' Ron asked. Harry nodded.

'The bracelets gone dead,' he explained in a defeatist tone. 'That either means it's packed up, he's out of reach or...' There was a pause broken by Chudely crooning and scampering up into Ron's lap after espying his own reflection on one of the polished brass feet of the dresser. Ron sighed.

'Well... you could try being positive,' Ron mused. Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You've still got Evelyn's necklace, right? You can explore and avoid the chimeras with that.'

'Nah, I gave it back.' He didn't feel like disclosing Evelyn's current M.I.A status to Ron right now. Ron mouthed an Oh.

'Well, you'd better come on the hunt then.' Ron hopped off the bed and to his feet, before tottering. 'Cor...' Chudley whistled, chewing on Ron's black shirt. Harry sat up.

'Why?' he asked, his curiosity aroused. Ron smirked, tapping his nose.

'Well, you said to do some detective work,' he grinned. 'I overheard that weedy footman talking to one of the servants when we got back. He sounded pretty grumpy about having to hand out amulets to every guest who goes on the hunt, due to the temperament of the chimeras today.' Harry's eyes locked with Ron's, and they both grinned.

'I suppose we do get to ride chimeras...' he mused.

'And Silver's tough enough and ugly enough to look after himself for a bit longer,' Ron affirmed as Harry hauled himself up, groaning. 'Who knows? With everyone out, the little rat might crawl out of hiding.'

'Ha ha,' Harry laughed mirthlessly, chucking Ron on the shoulder. 'Alright... so long as we don't have to eat lunch...'

'Maybe a drink though...'

'Yeah.'

'And some roughage... cor...'

'Have you all ridden something before?'

'Does a broom count?' Harry asked Ron nervously. Ron nodded, equally fearful.

'Dad said it would be OK. Said it was the same principle, except fatter.' Harry and Ron exchanged glances as simultaneous images of obese broomsticks crossed their minds, and they suppressed giggles. They were organised and sent forward towards several stablehands, clutching bunches of pendants of various designs. Some looked fuller than others, or more beaten up than others. Ron, who was the queue next to Harry's, got one that appeared to have a deep, eerie claw gash in it. When Harry stepped up for his, he was less than appeased to come face to face with a very stressed looking Martyn Crabtree. Martyn, on spotting Harry, looked equally unappeased.

'Hi,' Harry managed. Martyn frowned, before closing Harry's hand around his pendant.

'Give it back yourself,' he hissed, before beckoning the next person on blandly. When Harry opened his hand, his eyes widened. Inside was a thin, spiral like glass pendant, half filled with the jostling scarlet liquid. However, there were two cords. The other linked to the engraved silver mounted oval that Harry had been wearing just hours before. Evelyn's pendant. Harry slipped them both on.

'OK,' he agreed quietly, before jogging up to Ron as they were directed towards the huge corrals.

A/N

Sequia- Sequear to dry. Seca is arid and Sequia, literally, is drought.

Abrio- Abrir to open

Ropus- Ropa Clothes