Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera. IN YOUR FACE. Ok, so it's a DVD, but hey. It's still miiiine.

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: SLASH!

Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me.

A/N

Not a lot to say really. When I wrote this, I wrote all but the end really quickly. Twas veeeery peculiar. Anyway, here you go.

Oooh, and be prepared to sate your Draco craving.

'Ginny do you-'

'No Ron, I'm fine.'

'You look tired, I could-'

'No, Ron,' Ginny said firmly. 'I think I can walk down to the Great Hall just fine, thank you.'

'Are you sure?' Ron said quickly, looking ever the bustling over protective big brother. 'I mean, I could carry you, or we could Charm you crutches into-'

'Ron!' Ginny exclaimed exasperated. Hermione and Harry, who had left Ron to it, were walking a short way in front. The three of them had Potions first, and Harry had packed the still sleeping Silver into his bag. He could be counted on to make good notes. Hermione sighed.

'I think Ron's glad she's back,' she said sarcastically. Harry smiled.

'You don't say,' he said cheerlessly, looking out of the window. That dream had troubled him again. That dream about the attack on the school, but it seemed to have got stuck, like an old fashioned film projector. All that he had seen was Draco being forced to cut himself again and again and the exploding of the tower when help arrived… but something about that tower was different. Especially the cascading blood. Harry sighed. He felt exhausted. Repeated dreams exhausted him, and as much as they seemed to be trying to tell him things, they weren't helping. And Voldemort had been quiet for the past few days. That was never a good sign. He and Hermione descended the grand staircase into the entrance hall, before tuning off into the great hall for breakfast.

What they weren't expecting was the wall of noise.

'WHAT DID YOU SAY!' A coarse, snarling voice spat into the face of some poor, relatively innocent fourth year Slytherin. 'You little maggot! You brainless toad! You foul, filthy little…. HUFFLEPUFF!' A pair of clawed hands seized the smaller girl around the throat and shook for all it was worth. Severus Snape, among others, were sweeping down the hall, between the children vying for a look. Blaise Zabini was helping Nuria to wrench the talons away from the blanched victim.

'Pansy!' Blaise growled. 'You've been back for the grand total of an hour and you are already attacking things! Have some restraint!' Pansy Parkinson, who now came into view, wearing a stylish (or so she thought) eye patch over a still bandaged eye and looking suspiciously thinner and wan, hissed and yowling like a cat.

'Make her take it back!' she screeched. 'He needs me! He was dying! Dying! And he needs me!'

'Ten points from Slytherin for your poor form,' Snape grumbled before sweeping away, the teachers checking on the smaller girl, but generally being ignored.

'Nuria,' Blaise said gently. 'Take her back to the common room.'

'The hell I will!' Nuria snapped. 'My coffee will get cold.' Blaise rolled his eyes as Pansy struggled.

'Please, Nuria,' he pleaded. 'She needs rest.'

'Shut the hell up, Zabini!' Pansy howled, clawing his face with her nails as Crabbe and Goyle held her back. 'What do you know? Nothing! You were out there, cowering in the crowd when He came! You did nothing! I went to help him! I suffered for him and I'd suffer again!' Blaise looked blanched. A sickly silence had fallen across the hall. They knew exactly what Pansy was ranting about.

'Students, back to you breakfasts,' Professor McGonagall said hastily. 'Boys, I think this morning has been exciting enough for Miss Parkinson. Mister Zabini is right. If you would take her back to the dormitories, I'll have some breakfast sent up.' Pansy glared out of her one visible eye, her dark hair lying flatly against her head, lifeless. Crabbe and Goyle began to brainlessly hoist her away when she started howling again.

'Where is he?' She screamed. 'He needs me! He's dying! DYING!' She broke free of the boys and staggered forward on unsound legs, crashing into Hermione and knocking her over, before falling against Harry, panting and sobbing. Harry looked vaguely horrified, before the pity kicked in, and he went to help her up, looking apologetically at Hermione who was brushing herself off. Pansy pulled herself up, clinging onto Harry's robes like a buzzard clinging to carrion. She slowly raised her head.

'You did nothing,' she hissed. 'What good are you if you did nothing?' She shoved him a little, staggering after him. Blaise was trying to get through the crowd. Harry didn't say anything. There was an exhausted wildness in her eyes, the same kind that Ginny had ferociously repressed. He had no idea what they had suffered since that day. He felt guilty for knowing that he didn't want to find out. Pansy fixed him with one dark eye, and Harry was surprised to find it filled with tears of a sort different to rage. She began to speak, but not to him.

'I came back to find him… and now he's gone…' she mumbled. Harry could feel her shaking.

'Pansy!' Blaise hissed through the mumbled quiet of the hall, clutching one of her arms

'Let's-' She swung around and struck him hard across the face, before Crabbe and Goyle, at Blaise's shout, grabbed her arms and hoisted her off her feet.

'Let me go!' She howled thrashing and writhing in their grip.

'You alright?' Harry asked Hermione quietly. She nodded, her eyes trailed to where something grey and serpentine was clambering up Harry's robes. Pansy, who was being dragged away, saw it too, and gasped when its silver grey misted eyes locked with hers. Silver let out a peep and perked up its head. As Crabbe and Goyle lumbered out of the hall, dragging the girl with them, she was quiet and still, and kept a strange, mystified eye contact with the dragon until she was out of sight.

'Well, that's enough excitement for this morning,' Professor McGonagall said, ushering those who had not obeyed her first order back to their seats. 'Come along, sit down. You too, Mister Potter.' Harry snapped out of his thought, hoisted Silver into his hands where he wriggled indignantly and sat down for breakfast. As Silver, out of sheer desperation, shoved his head in someone's cup of coffee (Seamus' to be exact. He yielded it), Harry absent mindedly swept butter over his wholemeal toast and eyed the professor's table. Professor Dumbledore hadn't come to breakfast. Harry frowned, raking his hands through his hair as Silver nuzzled the coffee cup lovingly and persuaded Ginny Weasley (who adored him) to pour him another cup. Harry frowned and took it away. Ginny grabbed his arm defensively, before yielding it quickly.

'It's not doing him any harm,' she said quickly. Harry frowned and filled a spare cup with milk. Silver glowered.

'Do you remember what happened when we fed Trevor coke?' Harry asked gently.

'That brown sweet drink that Dean brought from him?'

'That very same stuff.'

'Oh… you mean him bouncing off the walls and squaring up to Crookshanks?'

'Yes.'

'And nearly getting torn in half?'

'Exactly.'

'Oh.' There was overhead as the owls swooped into the hall

'This is a message for all students with relatives at Durmstrang Academy,' Dumbledore's voice boomed out from nowhere above the hall, startling owls as the flopped and flapped down to their owners. A large handsome eagle owl landed on a gap on the Slytherin table, and Blaise Zabini eyed it mournfully. Most of the Slytherin table were looking up, as if at the voice. Harry was startled to see many of the other students were looking up too, including Ron and Ginny.

'You've got relatives at Durmstrang?' Harry asked. Ron sighed.

'Yup,' he said dully. 'Second cousins or something. We've only met them twice. Seemed like nice enough people.'

'You are to wait in the Great Hall for an announcement to be made. All students not concerned shall return to their dormitories, where breakfast shall be delivered. That is all.'

'Dumbledore sounds tense,' Hermione managed, finishing her cup of tea, before standing up as the teachers and ghosts began ushering those not involved out of the hall. Harry stood up, scooping up Silver (who resolutely dragged the remainder of his lightly toasted white toast and honey with him) and leaving the hall. His stomach was still rumbling.

'Something must have happened,' Harry said. 'Something big.' Hermione looked around at the scant group who were leaving the hall, including Blaise Zabini.

'Do you think it was-'

'No,' Harry cut in. 'I'd know if it was him.' Harry felt Hermione's eyes unconscious rake up to his scar. He frowned. 'I dreamt last night-'

'What of?'

'Let me finish. I dreamt, yeah, but it wasn't a special dream. It was... the dream I always have... the one about the attack.' Hermione frowned.

'No unholy headaches.'

'Not as of yet,' Harry said, looking up, 'but I think I might get one any second now.' Blaise Zabini rushed up to them.

'Do you have any idea what's going on?' he asked. Hermione shook her head, and Harry didn't bother to mask his scowl.

'Something to do with Durmstrang?' Hermione offered. 'It sounded somewhat serious.' Blaise frowned.

'It's a stronghold for deatheater wannabes,' he said darkly. 'Everyone knows that. I-...' he broke off quickly, moving away. 'I have to go and check on Pansy. Excuse me.' He rushed off down through the sultry archway to the dungeons as Harrystarted climbing the stairs.

'He seems troubled,' Hermione mumbled.

'Yeah,' Harry said bluntly. 'If something's happened to Durmstrang his whole family will probably have been wiped out-hey!' Hermione had slapped his arm.

'Stop it,' she grumbled. 'You're being childish.' Harry frowned.

'What would you prefer,' he said quickly. 'Childish or painfully aware of the compromising situation that is slowly tightening its grip around my neck?' Hermione looked stunned for a second. Harry bowed his head almost abashedly and hurried on up the stairs, knocking against some younger students as he rounded the corner. Hermione frowned and trudged up after him. With the relaxed atmosphere, the calm after the storm, it had almost seemed as if everything was better again. She shook her head, smiling bitterly. A bitter string was tweaked in her heart. She doubted things were ever going to be 'better' for Harry.

Ron didn't come to potions. Neither did most of the class. Neither did Professor Snape. In fact, there were only 6 people from the Sports Medi Magic and the Potions Class there in total. They sat, chatting or doing other homework or wasting time, luxuriously spaced out in the chill room, afraid to leave lest Snape come back, find them gone and smite them with some unholy essay question that not even the most malicious dementor would ask small children to write. Harry was watched as Silver lay, somehow holding a pencil, writing corrections to Harry's latest homework assignment. Despite all the energy at the beginning of the year, he was getting slacker and slacker as the days went on. Yeah, he got all his homework done, and done well, but there was nothing like a bit of adrenaline to get your ideas out on parchment. And all your Spelling mistakes apparently, since Silver was silently, almost contentedly correcting the seventeenth misSpelling in Harry's childish writing on the first page. The dragon suddenly looked up, around the room, his eyes misty and confused, before exhaling air silently, but a in a distinctly tragic way.

'I win,' Hermione said lightly. Even she had succumbed, and had taught Blaise the joys of hangman.

'I don't think I can cope with the simple intricacies of this game,' Blaise said, defeated, raking a hand through his soft, dusty brown hair. Harry rifled through his expansive bag, looking for something, anything to do that didn't involve school work. He came upon a parchment tube, and drew it out curiously, before recognising it.

'Ohhh...' he exhaled, and opened it, drawing out the long coiled parchment. He unrolled it. In the sweeping, aristocratic cursive, the name 'Draco T.M.L.N.J.A.A Malfoy' still graced the page like some long forgotten ghost. Harry shook his head, smirking at the middle name initials. Yeah, so you had to write at least your full initials at the top of these official papers, but still-

'That's-' Blaise snatched it desperately, eyes scanning the page hurriedly. 'I don't believe it... where did you get this!' Harry looked a bit taken back but hey, it wasn't his paper to begin with.

'Ron found it,' he said dryly. 'I haven't seen Malfoy around to return it. I don't know when his deadline is, so...'

'He doesn't have one,' Blaise said quickly. 'He's hardly even in now, so he wouldn't comprehend... oh that's not the point!' Blaise turned and fixed Harry with his gaze. 'WHEN did you find this?'

'A while ago...' Harry said indefinitely.

'The same night I gave you Silver, remember?' Hermione reminded, feeling a little left out as the boys talking in front of her. 'What was the date... when Lucius Malfoy visited...' Blaise looked defeated.

'That long ago,' he muttered, before sighing. 'I was hoping it had been more recent than that.' He managed a smile. 'Pansy's outburst in the hall this morning... she's demanding to see Draco. She thinks he's dead.'

'But he's not,' Hermione said quickly.

'We don't know that,' Blaise said after a long pause. 'He's vanished.'

'He's not back yet?' Hermione asked quickly, before turning to Harry. 'Wasn't he at the Manor?'

'No,' Harry said quickly. 'At least I didn't see him.'

'Makes sense,' Blaise cut in. 'Lucius is up in arms about it. He's demanding permits to leave his house arrest to come and search the castle for him.'

'Three weeks,' Hermione said gently. 'Where could he have gone?' Blaise shook his head.

'Lucius would have turfed him out if he were hiding anywhere he knew. It's not as if Draco ever went anywhere without some purpose in it. He couldn't hide on the Malfoy estate, and anyone who found him would be able to see how... unbalanced he's become and would have handed him in.' Blaise smirked humourlessly. 'The younger Slytherins think he's holed up in the chamber of secrets or something.' Blaise sighed, netting his fingers and leaning his chin on them. 'That, of course, is absurd. For a start he wouldn't cope with the damp.' He smiled, pointing to his head. 'Hair issues, and Draco is nothing if not vain. Secondly it's too grimy. Draco is a neat freak of the highest order, to the point where he has demanded a room to himself since year seven due to the sheer barbarity of Crabbe and Goyle. This school in general is a haven for dirt. I don't think he could put up with the cobwebs and dust and god knows what dwelling in the school catacombs.' Blaise opened his mouth to continue on that topic, but silenced himself. 'So... in short... we don't know where he is. But you found this, and this was missing from his room, so perhaps that might help in some way.' Blaise raked his hand through his hair again, before rolling up the parchment. Hermione frowned.

'Poor Malfoy...' she said softly. Harry and Blaise stared at her as if she had gone mad. She frowned. 'Don't look at me like that. He may be a prat, but it's more his dad then him. When Voldemort attacked him... we all saw what happened.' Harry and Blaise looked away. 'Even though he seems desperate, wild and frightened, that's the real him. The one that's been suppressed all these years by airs and hair gel and a stern upbringing.' She flushed a little. 'That's what I think, anyway. And you should feel sorry for him too. Wherever he is, he's probably scared and alone and miserable. I'd pity anyone in that situation.' Blaise frowned.

'Are you doing anything after school?' he asked. Hermione looked a bit abashed, and Harry murderous. Blaise swallowed hard. 'I meant both of you.' They both relaxed. 'If so, I could use you opinions. I've been trying to piece together what happened when he left. I've got a key to his chamber, so you can take a look for yourself. Maybe... share ideas.' Hermione's eyes sparkled.

'Sounds like a plan!' she said. Harry managed a smile. Hermione was like a fluffy haired modern day Velma. All she needed was a large, dumb, talking dog and for Harry to but on some bellbottoms and grow some stubble, and they'd be ready to go and solve a mystery.

'Seven, then?' Blaise confirmed in his terribly brisk and efficient manner. He'd be a politician one day, Harry thought, before nodding. The door of the dungeon slammed open. Snape did not enter, but a few much shaken students did, not the whole class, but enough to fill the benches. Ron slumped down between Blaise and Hermione unceremoniously, looking pale. They looked at him for a while.

'Snape's not coming,' he said flatly. 'He's still busy upstairs.'

'Why?' Hermione asked quickly.

'What's going on?' Harry added. Ron swallowed hard.

'Durmstrang,' he said quietly, as if it were a curse, 'has been attacked.' No one said anything. Ron swallowed again, as if it were failing to make his throat any less dry.

'Everyone's dead,' he hissed. 'Thirteen survived... and they're on their way here.'

'Are you really alright, Ron?' Hermione asked as Ron sat in the common room that evening. He smiled.

'Shocked,' he said gently. 'My cousins aren't in the thirteen. But... it's ok. I... didn't know them too well anyway.' Hermione tutted, before hugging him.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, holding him supportively. Ron swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Is... Viktor ok?' he asked airlessly. Hermione looked up him, near pained.

'Don't worry about stuff like that,' she said hurriedly, pressing herself closer to his arm. Harry trotted down the stairs, Silver on his shoulder like some cheery, plated parrot, except that he was hissing violently and caterwauling for no apparent reason. Apparently he was offended by the chunky polo neck Harry had donned for the evening down in the abysmally chilly dungeons.

'Ready?' he asked above the clamour. Hermione set up.

'Do you want to come with us?' she asked. Ron thought for a moment.

'Can I set fire to Malfoy's belongings if I do?' he asked brightly.

'What is with you and burning Malfoy's possessions?' Harry laughed. Silver was puffing little balls of smoke testily. Ron shrugged.

'Dunno,' he answered. 'Just the image of his ferrety little face when he sees the results is priceless... in my imagination anyway.' Hermione poked him, before getting up.

'We'll see you later, then,' she said gently. Ron nodded, and leant forward to set up his chess set. Harry picked up his bag (he was going for a bath afterwards) and turned to Hermione. She looked sort of torn. He tugged her sleeve.

'Come on,' he whispered, and they left the common room, Silver squawking like a deranged parrot all the while.

'Don't touch anything,' Blaise said quietly in the dark, sultry corridor deep in the inner working of the Slytherin dormitories. 'He'll know. And I know it looks messy,' he added haltingly, 'but he left in such a rush... oh whatever...' the key finally clicked in the lock.

'Password?' the door asked, or rather, a framed mirror on it asked, displaying a 'reflection' of Malfoy's face. It didn't look smug, which set Harry off guard, rather cool, unassuming and secretly enjoying the conversation. Blaise cleared his throat.

'Three turns to the right, six to the left, press, pull and kick the dog,' Blaise said clearly.

'Alright then,' the image said, frowning as the door clicked open.

'What the hell was that?' Harry asked. Blaise raised his eyebrow.

'The password,' he replied plainly. 'And instructions for how to get into the secret study room. But that's not important.'

'There's a secret study room!' Hermione said brightly. Blaise frowned.

'I said it wasn't important,' he countered. 'Now, hurry up, before Pansy hears.' He shoved the heavy ebony door open, before bundling Harry and Hermione inside. He followed swiftly and swung the door smartly and silently shut. He sighed and leant against it as Harry and Hermione surveyed the space. The room was expansive and luxurious, as Harry remembered Draco's quarters at the manor as being. The colour scheme was dark, sultry but not oppressive, more the kind of place you wanted to slink into, curl up in and vanish into the darkness. It was probably unbearable in summer. A huge fire burned in a simply magnificent fireplace, illuminating two chairs and a low table. At the other end of the room were two huge, carved wardrobes and a heavy mahogany desk and bookcase. Behind them was the huge four poster bed, the image of luxury that hung around the mere mention of the Malfoy name. It was heavy, lush, and bedecked in velvet curtains, drapes, hangings and silken satiny pillows and sheets.

'Do you all get one these?' Harry asked dryly. 'Or was this a Malfoy commission?' Blaise shot him a look.

'We have group dormitories up until fourth year,' he said venomously. 'However, Draco moved into this room in first year for the reasons I have already divulged. This is, in fact, the room his ancestors donated to the school.

'Looking out for their own, then,' Harry commented, looking around. The room was grand an ornate and quite obviously full of treasures. It was, however, a total and utter pigsty. Papers were torn, scattered, crumpled and trodden all over the room, some fluttering like ghosts from the convections of the fire. The bedside unit was a mess of potion bottles, half used, empty, open, leaking, tipped over and smashed. They had spilled and dripped onto the floor, leaving small pools of stale potions to stain the flagstone floor and shards of vicious glass scattered around the vicinity. Pouring from one of the shelves was a roughly hewn roll of bandages, and sheets, though black, bore tell tale imperfections and scars where blood had leaked into their fibres. On the wall above the dressing table there were bloody hand prints either side of the mirror (which was smashed) and tumbling coils of used bandages that had been torn asunder without care. Blaise looked abashed in the owner's stead.

'As I said,' he muttered. 'He's not been himself... and he left in a rush.' Hermione looked troubled as she wandered cautiously around the room. Glass crunched under her shoe as she approached the bedside table.

'Did anyone see when he left?' she asked. 'I mean, Ron found that tube along the corridor between six and seven- just after he had gotten back to Hogwarts. But it could have been there for any amount of time.' Blaise frowned.

'Crabbe and Goyle were out by five thirty. Nuria and I left to go and greet Mr Malfoy on Draco's behalf at quarter to six. When we got back to the common room at five past, he had already gone. Naturally, that slippery little rat didn't get seen by anyone so we took all the flack for him.' Blaise looked momentarily angered, before calming sleekly in the way a cat's hair falls softly after it has puffed up to intimidate an enemy. 'But that is not the point. When did Weasley find the essay?'

'He had only just found it when he came into the common room,' Hermione replied, gingerly reading one of the potions bottles. 'That was... about quarter to seven.' Blaise frowned.

'That's a wider window than I had hoped for,' he grumbled. 'That's a possible hour from his leaving the common room to him dropping that essay tube, which is the last thing we know for sure he did, accidentally or not, before he "vanished".' Blaise sat down in one of the accommodating handsome armchairs. He sighed, resting his chin in a sickeningly aristocratic manner on his hand. Hermione beckoned Harry over. He picked his way through the mess, feeling a little flushed. This room was so much more personal... not to mention messed up than the other space of Draco's he had managed to invade. This felt weird, almost voyeuristic. At this point in his thought Silver leapt off his shoulder onto the bed, before dropping the floor and scampering under the bed.

'Silver!' Harry hissed, but the dragon didn't emerge. Hermione raised something in front of Harry's face. 'Dreamless sleep potion?'

'And lots of it,' Hermione said. 'There's others here too. A form of pepper-up that focuses on chest ailments like bronchitis, mind calmers...' she frowned. 'And... theres blood on some of the broken bottles. I think he was looking for a way out.' Harry averted his eyes for the glassy mess, and strode quickly over to the desk. Apart from the scattered papers and spilled ink, there was a huge book with the shiny blank black panel in the centre.

'Don't touch that,' Blaise warned quickly. 'It has a blood seal on it. Until Draco takes it off, it's sealed against anyone else.'

'What will happen if I touch it then?' Harry asked calmly, hand still poised. Blaise reclined.

'I'm not entirely sure,' Blaise said gently. 'But Draco always had a thing about noses. He reckoned the nastiest thing you could do to someone was to take their nose off.' Harry removed his hand quickly.

'Weirdo,' he hissed, Blaise huffed.

'I personally agree with him. You can get by the in world with hideous loss of limbs and what not, but with a massive great disfiguring hole in your face, you're never going to get any.' Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. Blaise shrugged. 'I'm just elaborating on what he said. And removing any offending references to other disfiguring facial injuries that were mentioned in the original conversation.' He smiled a saccharin smile when Harry glared round at him and allowed his eyes to lazily rake up to Harry's forehead. Harry rolled his eyes.

'So,' Hermione said, quickly distracting them from that topic. 'We know Draco's gone. We know he left in a hurry. What we need to know is where-'

'And if he hasn't pegged it,' Harry said dismissively. 'Since that would be such a tragic loss to the world.' Blaise glowered.

'Think what you will, Potter,' he hissed. 'But if he was so unimportant, you wouldn't be wasting your precious time down here helping me now, would you?' Harry stiffened.

'He's off his rocker,' he said quickly. 'It's called sympathy, Zabini, perhaps that's something a Death Eater's son doesn't know anything abo-'

'I dare you to say that again!' Blaise snapped, leaping up. Harry turned easily, smirking. He had had enough of this.

'Alright,' he purred. 'It's called-'

'Enough!' Hermione demanded. 'Enough of the ego battles! Harry, stop being rude to Blaise. You'd be equally hurt if people started insulting your father. And Blaise, no below the belt, snipish comments. It's dumb and pointless. We're here to find out what happened to Malfoy, not assert whose the bigger man which, by the way, is ridiculous.' Harry secretly thought that Blaise was proud of his father's alignment, but couldn't be bothered with the trouble it would cause if he said it aloud. Blaise looked furious, and was clutching his left forearm as if pained.

'You don't think you can trust me, Potter?' he said firmly, before pulling the sleeve up sharply, revealing a kite shape of four angry black dots. 'Marked for it, but I never completed the ceremony. That part at least was my choice. Happy now?' Harry averted his eyes. He frowned.

'We're not finding anything out,' he said quickly. 'We need to look at where Malfoy went next, not look through his drawers.' Harry turned to the door. 'But that can wait for another day. I'm going for a bath.'

'Harry,' Hermione said, as if to call him back.

'Silver?' Harry commanded. There was a scrabbling under the bed, before Silver appeared with a sheet of parchment in his teeth. He hissed and snapped at Harry, before trotting over to Blaise, depositing the parchment and yelping when Harry commanded the bracelet to return him to Harry's vicinity. Sulking, Silver slumped on Harry's shoulder and Harry left the room. Blaise said nothing for a while, before moving over to the desk, sweeping up the book and slotting it away on the book case. Hermione frowned at him. Blaise shrugged.

'He really needs work on his anger management,' he said gently. Hermione nodded.

'Hrm,' she said cheerily, fixing Blaise with the sharp look. 'I thought he was doing pretty well. He didn't kick over any tables.'

'Come on, it doesn't hurt.'

'Meep.'

'I know it's a bit bigger, but you'll like it. I promise it'll be alright.'

'Mreep.'

'Come on, I can't wait all day.'

'Honk!' Harry frowned.

'Coward,' he said, before raising his hand to whisper to the bracelet. Silver jumped and shouted in protest. Harry crinkled his nose at the little silver morsel.

'Well get in the bloody bath then, you priss.' Silver reciprocated by crinkling his snout, before wiggling his butt as he peered down into the murky bathwater. He tensed up, before pouncing into the water and resurfacing a few moments later, water running in rivulets of his slender head, crooning meekly and doggy padding for dear life. Harry was glad to see the water running off his wings. He'd read in the Even More Monstrous Book of Monsters (at the peril of his forearm) that penndragonnes wings became waterproofed like ducks as they got older. Silver splashed around in an extremely undignified manner, cooing and huffing bubbles out of his way as Harry sat on one of the grand steps to the baths, scrubbing himself down with a sponge. Once thoroughly clean, he sunk further into the water to a lower step so the water lapped across his toned chest. He sighed and leant back on his elbows, gently cupping a hand around Silver and letting the dragon rest against his chest as he ran the soft sponge over him. Harry did this more for his own therapy that Silver's cleanliness. The penndragonne, through all that splashing and cavorting, was thoroughly cleansed, but the slow, rhythmic, caring movements and slight pinch of Silver's claws as he held on were calming. Silver huddled close to Harry's skin, but did not relax. He kept looking up in a confused sort of way, averting his head, pondering, looking back, tensing up a little and repeating the process. Harry sighed smiling.

'You're too human,' he said gently, flicking water at the penndragonne's face. It crinkled its nose and hooted, shaking its head to dislodge the flecks, before Harry pulled it right against him, hugging it to his body.

'Silly thing,' he said gently, stroking the damp velveteen scales. Slowly, Silver, eyes lost in the fogs of confusion, submitted, laying his head down, his snout resting on the dip in Harry's collarbone, fanning Harry's skin with increasingly slow, sleepy breaths. Harry smiled, tenderly petting its skin, before he noted something. As he brushed his hands over the feather soft skin, parts of flesh seemed firmer than others. Harry moved his fingers over the raised bump. Silver stiffened little. He frowned.

'You must have fallen off that log harder than I thought,' Harry said gently, listening to Silver snuffle as he dozed in the lulling water. Harry allowed his arms to just cup the dragon in place and rested his head back on the steps. This was good. Life was getting harder, but this, right now, was good and innocent and calm. Harry smiled softly. What a treasure Hermione had offered him that day in October...

'He seems wiped out...'

'Wow... he really is cute when he's asleep. His feet are so small!'

'Cheers, Hermione...'

'Small is a good thing, Harry. Besides, it makes him more cuddly.'

'You can hold him if you like. He's pretty sleepy.'

'Wow, he really must be sleepy... awww he's much softer that Tigerlily!'

'Hermione... you're squeeing over the lizard from hell.'

'But he' so sweeet!'

'Who are you and what have you done with my partner in Silver hatred.'

'You don't hate him,' Harry said jovially as he opened the door to the dormitory. 'You just can't handle his abuse skills.' Ron smirked.

'Shock! Harry has uncovered my evil secret! How shall I survive?'

'With copious amounts of chocolate I expect,' Hermione mused, laying Silver down on Harry's bed. 'There.'

'Come on then,' Ron said brightly. 'Chess and chocolate.'

'But what about-'

'There is no way I'm doing anymore of that bloody essay tonight,' Ron complained.

'Chess, damn you! CHESS!' Harry followed them out.

'See you later,' he said gently as Silver blinked blearily at him, and the golden strike of light slid silently away, leaving Silver alone in the blue darkness as the voices of the three faded as they walked down the steps. The dragon lay flat against the bed for some time, blinking drowsily, allowing liquid pewter eyes to gaze around the room, taking it in slowly. Huffing, it hoisted itself up and rolled over onto his back, stretching its legs satisfyingly. The bed and comforter blanket were so soft and warm, and though the silence of the room throbbed in his internal ears, he felt... almost content. He sighed, his muddled mind of meaningless images and severed ties of recognition slipping into dozy, contented fuzz. So what if everything was a bit weird. Life was a weird and wonderful thing. And this Harry bloke. Harry... he was a good person. He cared a lot. Harry liked touching him, even though he wasn't really sure if it was his thing or not. However, sometimes it felt nice. Really nice. Safe and warm and something that Silver knew, even through the confusion in his mind he had not felt in such potency before. Silver realised he was purring, and allowed himself to continue. Silver felt his whole body, still deep heated from the bathwater, relaxing gently into the realms of sleep. His forepaws rested in his vision, not far from his face. The Hermione lady had been right. They were tiny. Little slender claws, tipped with tiny pale claws. He flexed his toes, blinking gently, before watching the cream pianist's digits uncurling to show their torn, battered fingernails. Silver's eyes widened in confusion, and he sat up. Wait. He sat up. What was he doing? Silver looked down, seeing how his slender fingers extended to delicate hands and slim arms, lashed with fading silvery scars. Shadowy elbows rested in the soft moonlight on torn trousers hanging off svelte hips and gently toned legs, shoeless.

'Mreep?' Silver managed, but it came heavy and clumsily between cracked lips as 'Mnnn?'

'Mnnn indeed.' Silver's head shot up and he scrambled clumsily backwards, still damp strands of spun gold falling in front of wide moonlit eyes. There was a soft crinkly sound as the fabric on the bed moved and another figure sat down. Silver uttered a soft hiss. The sound vibrated uncomfortably off of blunt teeth.

'Oh, don't give me that,' the creature said gently, blinking the soft lashes of its amber eyes. 'Especially not after I travelled so very far to come and visit you.' Silver said nothing. This creature was dangerous... but he didn't remember why.

'How is life treating you?' the creature asked lazily. 'I'm absolutely exhausted, I've been so busy!' It smiled. 'You looked so relaxed when I came in. It almost seemed a shame to disturb you.' Silver, again, said nothing. The creature laughed.

'What am I doing, talking to you!' The sound was mirthless, bitter and hollow. 'You're nothing but a convenient shell.' With a slick, silken flurry, the creature's fingers danced over Silver's abdomen and chest, before pressing hard on the breast bone. Silver gasped raggedly, eyes rolling back, before, for the first time in several days, coming fully into focus. They were wide with fear, but harsh with hate.

'Orion,' Draco hissed dryly.

'The one and only,' Orion responded sharply. The atmosphere between the two was palpable with crackly hate.

'Thank god,' Draco hissed. 'Once I get rid of you, there won't be any more left.'

'I'd watch your tongue, boy,' Orion growled, eyes flashing dangerously. Draco swallowed the sudden surge of heat in his body. 'You don't seem to comprehend the situation you're in.' Draco rolled his eyes.

'Daddy's cross because I won't just run home and play servant master with him and he sent you to get me. Wow. My brain reels at the complexity of that revelation.'

'Idiot,' Orion hissed. 'You humans and your pathetic memories...' Draco's mind suddenly fell upon the last time he had met Orion. The pattern... and the sudden blankness.

'You didn't tell him it was me!' He hissed. 'What did you do to me, you filthy hybrid!' Orion smirked.

'Aww, did I get your pique your interest now, Master Malfoy?' He reclined on Harry's pillows calmly, purring, golden eyes flicking around. Malfoy looked at his surroundings.

'Dear god,' he muttered. 'I'm in Gryffindor.'

'I'm surprised Godric himself hasn't leapt out of a portrait to smite you yet,' Orion offered, lazy. Draco's scuffed palm trailed shakily up to cover his mouth. His eyes were wide.

'The bath... oh gooood,' He pushed the hells of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. Orion watched, a faint smile ghosting on his white lips. Draco's hands dropped, and if it was possible, his eyes went wider, his mouth hanging slack.

'Oh no...'

'Oh yes,' Orion purred. Draco looked at him, pleading.

'You made it up and put it there. Pleeeeease say you made it up!'

'No need to. Doesn't Hagrid have the roughest fing-'

'SHUT UP!' Draco bawled, throwing his arms over his head, trembling. Orion laughed.

'Silly,' he whispered. 'They'll have heard you now.'

'Let them hear,' Draco mumbled. Suddenly he was sitting bolt upright. Orion raised an eyebrow, before yelping as two plae hands locked round his throat.

'You little bastard!' Draco spat as Orion flailed, his teeth bared. 'How DARE you do this to me! My father-'

'Will do nothing!' Orion laughed, kicking Draco square in the stomach, sending him flailing onto the flaw, all clawing nails and gnashing teeth. Orion sat up, straightening his collar.

'Idiot boy,' he purred. 'Who is going to tell him? Why should he care?'

'B-because-'

'Because you're his precious son? His heir? Didn't I tell you, Draco, none of that matters. You're a failure. A wreck. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be crawling around in that snakeskin, forgetting who you are.'

'It's thanks to you I did forget! If I had known-'

'You would have suffered a relapse and been no fun whatsoever,' Orion finished lightly. Draco growled. Orion grinned.

'Soon enough, you really won't matter at all-you can't do a thing about it, Draco, so you might as well stay down there and save yourself to effort-because your father won't even remember why he's bothered. Aquilla wouldn't dare defy me the way he defies your father. And you won't have the opportunity to.' Orion sighed, lounging as Draco fumed and voices could be heard at the bottom of the stairwell. Orion sighed.

'It appears our time together has been cut short,' he tutted. 'Pity. I do so enjoy these chats.'

'Sicko,' Drco snarled. 'Stay away from me... and take these damn bindings off!'

'However,' Orion mused, ignoring Draco. 'There is so much potential inside these walls. So many things people would die to possess...' Orion smiled serenely, before piercing Draco with his gaze, watching the boy's arms give and his fall, gasping onto the stone floor, back arched, sickly steam rising from the patterns on his body.

'I think I'll come back here,' Orion decided.

The door slammed open.

'Silver?' Harry asked. As he walked towards his bed, the window fluttered angrily. He looked over at it, frowning. Slowly, he approached his bed, rounding it to look down the aisle between his and Ron's cabinets. A little ball of trembling life lay squatted on the stones. Harry raised an eyebrow.

'Did you fall?' he asked gently. 'There was no need to make so much noise, you know.' Silver raised his tiny head and blinked up at Harry through glazed steel.

There was nought but mist in his eyes.

r+r? pleeeaaaaase? ;;