Draco Malfoy felt Luna's positive delight the next time he entered their demense.

"What is it?" He asked, his mouth parting into a small smile. At least someone was happy.

"Oh, Draco, they're beautiful!" Luna said, and her positivity and delight were infectious.

"What are-?" Draco asked, and then, thinking better of it, "You'd better show me."

Luna walked on feathers, almost, as she nearly floated down the stairs of Hogwarts, and straight towards the Forbidden Forest.

For once, Draco didn't hesitate when someone drew their wand at him. I trust her, of all people.

Luna explained anyway. "Disillusionment. Not for the beings, but their keepers."

Disquiet rose in Draco's heart.

When he saw the dragons, though, his heart soared in wonder. They were beautiful, all scales and color - wise eyes and wings and the ultimate magic users. Fire was only the least of their powers, flight one of the more potent. There were four of them.

Potter was going to face a dragon?

Luna's mouth had parted before Draco realized he'd spoken aloud. "Yes, it appears so. Got any tricks, sly fox?"

Draco shook his head, inwardly preening at her nickname. Much better than bouncy ferret, which I do NOT look like. "I'll think about it, though. If I do have an idea..."

Luna smiled excitedly, "Everyone always expects daft ideas out of me, but Harry and Hermione actually listen."

"They're good people," Draco admitted reluctantly.

"They think I'm incapable of seeing reality, instead of understanding that fantasy is a good metaphor, sometimes."

Draco could do nothing else but chuckle.

There had been no tricks that Draco could pull out of his massive store. They were dragons, and nearly magically impervious.

Draco had spent the last week praying to whomever was listening, that Potter would draw the nice Welsh Green. They liked people, more or less.

Draco hadn't noticed that they were nesting queens, and the entire task was sheer lunacy.

Asking a ten year old to defeat a dragon in single combat was more likely to work.

By the time Fleur was led away, the entire arena stinking of pigflesh and creating a string of vomiting children... Draco Malfoy had had enough of this shite.

If there wasn't a damned good reason for insisting that Potter had done this to himself, even Draco would have recanted.

No one could possibly have been stupid enough to sign up for this. The Twins had probably just been looking for attention, not truly trying to get past. He'd have asked, if he thought that word wouldn't spread.

Draco Malfoy had to be the living embodiment of Pureblooded Hatred. He had to be. Squeaky clean, for when they needed him to be spotless.

He'd handle spotless later.

What would happen to the world if Harry Potter died?

Screw the world, what would happen to Hermione?!

[a/n: Ahh... adolescent boys and their priorities. Leave a review? Timeskips are happy things!]