This year has been hell. I buried four loved ones over a short period of time. Each time I tried to unfurl myself from the devastation, it felt like I got socked in the guts with it again.

I've regretted putting this story to bed for as long as I have, but I just haven't had the emotional energy to pour into it, and I went adrift as to where I was really going with it for a long time.

Thank you to all the people who have joined this journey, and my apologies to those I left hanging in these many, many months.

I promise: I am going to persist. It might be a slow persistence, but I will try to start my creative juices once again.

Warning for this chapter: gore, and grossness. Just so you know. In case you were going eat anything prior or during maybe? If you're sensitive.

Obligatory disclaimer pertaining to intellectual rights having to do with the names of some of the characters, and their origins. The OCs are mine, the concept is mine, but I stole JKRs action figures and put them in my own sandbox so I could play with them.

Chapter 44

He woke that morning in another pool of his own perspiration. His limbs and joints felt numb as though he had slept on them wrong all through the night, and his head was pounding in time with his frantically beating heart. He ran his hands through his dark waves, raking his fingernails over his scalp trying to abate the inflamed sensation beneath his scalp, but to no avail.

He grasp to his bedside to seek water, and his palm met with his pitcher. He gulped at the coolness as though a man dying of thirst, for his insides felt as though they were desert-dry with drought. After a few moments, the throbbing in his skull lessened slightly and he lowered himself back into the pillows and quilts of his bed, and looked up vacantly at the canopy above him. His mind working its way back to the dreams he had just woken from. Fire, and ash, burning and ravaging everything and everyone. It had been the same for most nights, the ones he could remember anyway.

Not one to bow to the fore ordainment of another force, he willed himself to remember the details from which he had roused himself on purpose, simply unwilling or unable to watch any such more devastation from his minds eyes anymore. The dreams were always the same, and yet always different. Scenes of destruction and devastation, and beneath the roaring of flames that consumed everything he could see, and as far as he could see, there was an utterance beneath it all. A voice he could not place, or a sound he could not catalogue, yet it was one he knew.

It was insidious and cruel, wrought with anger and maliciousness. Though what it said, he could never remember or deduce, but it haunted him. It lingered with him in the mornings, and the miasma of it floated like a sickness around his mind until the day was almost done, and his head was soon to lay upon his pillow once more. And then it would come again.

Sometimes it was houses within the vast green of the rich lands he ruled of as Lord. Sometimes it was the castle in which he grew up in. The faces of the people he had known as a boy dissolving within the molten liquid of fire as it consumed them all as though they were nothing. Their screams echoed in his ears as they called to him. Screamed for mercy for it to end. Their agonies were relentless, their voices raw as the fire devoured them at its will.

Yet through these nightmarish scenes that dogged him every night, he had not once seen her within them. It was the one constant that gave him some ability to endure each day he woke, and continued to seed and grow his plans. She was never one of the charred skeletons that would fell to the ground; the bones of the corpse nothing more than decaying ash from the mouth of the ravenous beast made of fire.

Yet every face he had lain eyes on in his life, in one night or another, was on the stage of the theatrics of his recurring nightmares. His mother shrieked and screamed as she gouged into her own bubbling flesh with her fingers, the searing heat causing it to melt away with every pass her hands made. She cleaved herself to the bones beneath right before his very eyes, calling to him to save her. Calling until her voice was raw, and her skin melting away while her pleas died.

Childhood companions screamed in agony as their fine gowns erupted in fiery bursts against their exposed skin before welts formed as they began to bubble. Their screams echoing in the infernos endlessly. And yet she was absent.

It both relieved and concerned him. At first he didn't realize that she was purposefully negated from his horrific nightly hallucinations. But it wasn't too many nights past that he realized the people he was seeing were all those he knew in some way. Fellow Lords, enemies of his House, acquaintances, his own family. Anyone he'd ever lain eyes on, their faces sparked recognition with him. From within him, the gnawing of uncertainty kept at him.

He swung his body to the side of his bed, and ran a hand down his face as he rose. His body tired, and his mind tormented by the agony he endured within his mind every night. Soon, he reassured himself. It would be soon.

She could feel him now, as he rose for the day, and she lifted her head from the perch of her claws beneath the elegantly horned length of her jaw. If she had lips, she would have peeled them back over her teeth and grinned her pleasure as her little worm toiled endlessly in his mind over these reveries he suffered over and over again.

Her eyes narrowed and she nestled herself down again as the magic within her core simmered like a river of molten lava pouring from the fissures of the earth, and she contemplated another dream to weave for him.

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The sun had long peeked itself up from the horizon to begin its long journey across the heavens, and the light had changed much of the sky by this time. Though, from beneath the light gold of living membrane that acted as the canopy overhead, it was dulled considerably. Their location was further nested amid the peaks surrounding them, and the lee of the mountainside created this place in which they found their refuge. Its shape lessened any direct sunlight that tried to creep its way in, and thus the pairs of sleeping humans within the Dragon nest slumbered still without a care or bother.

Waking within moments of the other, Draco and Hermione had scooted together quietly in the nest to share the others embrace, and exchange some soft kisses together. They whispered softly to the other as they played gently with each other's hands and explored the others face from such an intimate distance they had never had before this point.

Hermione's hair had come undone, and her soft curls lay bunched beneath her head and over Draco's arm. He touched her hair openly, exploring its texture and participating in the wonder of such a foreign intimacy as he'd never known. Though innocent in their playfulness, they exchanged little kisses and sighs as they spoke quietly together and exchanging edicts of affection and sweetness. Her feet had entwining with his, as they had slowly cuddled closer together into each other's arms, their faces only inches apart.

His gray eyes were darkened by the artificial change in light around them, as hers were as well. Her smiles were shy at first as she touched his jaw and the bridge of his nose, experiencing his skin in earnest and with careful observation.

The smell of her skin was something he felt he could never tire from. How it was feminine, and sweet. A scent he had come to know as distinct to her solely, but grounded with an earthy base faintly reminiscent of horse. He commented as such, playfully, and she smiled proudly now, and touched her nose to his in a gesture that made his eyes flutter closed as he felt the whisper of her lips dance across hers. They were so close he could feel the warmth of her, and as she moved from side to side he pushed forward and connected with her.

Tenderly he kissed her as he held her smaller body in his arms, no longer concerned or acknowledging anything more than this. Without rushing he deepened his efforts and added the soft and wet attention of the tip of his tongue to respectfully beg entrance into the recesses of her. A request she granted with a feminine sound that drove a sudden urge within him to squeeze her utterly flush to his body.

The moment he was met with her tongue, he thought he might collapse inward from the desire that coursed through the heat of his blood. The ache at his center pulled him to her and unconsciously he rocked into her. Though the kisses were met and received equally, at the contact with the throbbing extremity, her eyes opened in surprise. Through their connected lips she gasp with shock and she pulled back slightly.

Both panting, he realized he had pushed too far. She gave a shy smile of apology to him, and kissed him gingerly again on the cheek.

"I –" She stammered, trying to detail her own embarrassment. "Have never been so close..." she fought desperately to maintain her eye contact and failed. "I should not have…" Draco shook his head and whispered, rubbing his cheek along hers.

"I understand." He said in a soft tone. "I will make no demands of you that you do not wish to give freely." He added and she bit her lip nervously as she blinked her lashes. Watching her, he decided that the gesture would drive him to ruin should he watch much longer, and he sighed gently as he rolled away slightly. A break in contact would surely help him to ease back from his more…. Baser inclinations.

"You have never made any such demand, Draco." She said. "Not once. You have always been gentle with me, and I am always safe in your arms, with your kisses." He nodded as he rolled his head to the side to look at her again.

"I will never give you reason not to be safe with me." He promised, moving a piece of her hair behind her ear, and trailing his fingertips down it to its end. His voice dropped lower still. "Should you want me, I have a want for you to be my wife, Hermione. I would never dare give you cause to fear me."

His admonition brought a smile to her face so large that he was certain he had never seen anything so lovely, and she placed her own hand over his. "I wish for this as well." She whispered, and leaned in again to kiss him once more.

As their lips danced gently after their confessions laid them bare to the other, he remained on his back as they kissed, though his hands tangled into her hair and she edged her chest up on to his, until an unexpected rustling next to them caused them to stop completely and lie still as they waited out the interruption.

The indentation of the nest that surrounded them was padded with vast clumps of wool, some type of long grass, and animal hides long-softened by body heat and wear. But surrounding them in the next was the end of a long golden tale, scaled and shiny, that had moved every slightly. In a subtle move, it has begun to wiggle very slightly, showing signs that the owner of the tail was as awake as they were. The two glanced at each other to see the red of a blush blooming over both their features. Hermione smiled, and Draco returned it as he rolled away slightly, leaning up again and offering her his hand to do so as well.

The clearance of the wing above them was shallow and they could only just sit up together. Within the dim lighting, dark and gold-hued from the filtering light from outside, they were framed between two eggs to either side of them. Beyond those eggs were the bodies of Theo and Tyt'o –still sleeping peacefully between a pair of eggs as well.

Draco found himself smiling widely. They had made it! He realized. The days of trekking into the abysmal and unknown mountains and forests, and thorough craggy formations of rock had lead them to this!

From beside him there was a breathy chuckle that sounded as smooth as silk. I feel your excitement from here, little rider. Imri said playfully, and as softly as she could. From the outside of the wing, the Dragon readjusted herself just enough that she loosened the coil surrounding the four of them and the four eggs she guarded within her nest. The movement caused their remaining companions to stir to wakefulness.

It was Tyt'o who rose to sit first, though with his greater height he had to slump himself down by bowing his back. His copper eyes had only but to look across from him to see his sister, hair unraveled and free, laying openly next to a man that was decidedly neither her intended, nor her suitor, and he narrowed his eyes fiercely at Draco. A clear warning.

Before Draco could so much as raise his hands in show of harmlessness to Tyt'o, an excited gasp sprang from Theo as he, too, awoke to his new surroundings. "Great Goddess!" He exclaimed as he took in his surroundings. "We found it! We made it!" Hermione smiled as well and clapped her hands against her mouth as she nodded excitedly, and from all around them there was movement from Imri as she raised her wing to uncover them. She chuckled again, delighted at the sound of Theo's enthusiasm.

You did well, my riders. She praised, and raised her head upward to stretch out her neck. From all around them the light of the morning poured through the protected side of their cavern across the most magnificent and awesome thing any of them had ever seen.

They were surrounded completely in a cavern lined with gold.

The gold coated the walls as though the mountain was made from it. It had smoothed over the craggy interior to soften the sharp edges, and each of the balked in turn from awe. It glinted spectacularly against the beautiful Dragon curled up around them, with a smug and knowing expression on her face.

Hermione realized that it was an age since a mortal being had entered the nesting cave of a Dragon, and she glanced at her brother with her mouth agape.

Though they were not of a House without means, still, theirs was one that possessed no troves of riches, nor great jewels. The line of Gresham's had come to power amid an old turmoil amongst warring Lords in the lands to assume lordship over these lands. Their riches lay in the bounties collected from the Earth, toiled by the people who lived here, and the food brought forth through their pains.

No, these were riches the likes of which none of the young adults had ever beheld before. The Gresham heir met his sisters gaping expression with one of consternation, as though to instruct her to reign in her awe, if only slightly.

But it was Theo who broke the silence as he burst forth in question. "What is this place?" Tyt'o hissed slightly at the lack of modesty, to which Imri merely chuckled.

Still, young one. She whispered to Tyt'o, and touched his shoulder with crest of her nearest wings. This is the last Golden Nest. Her voice was smooth, and the tone filled with pride and nostalgia as she swung her head around to see him fully. Every Dragon ever born is homed in a place such as this. He smiled beatifically as he listened.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispered, and Imri chuckled indulgently.

Your wonderment is music to my ears. Her great head settled near again as she had perched it atop the crest of the nest, and Hermione leaned into the Dragon once again and signed. Oh, but it is good to see your faces again after such a long time. The Dragon said, slowly closing her eyes as she breathes in a deep sigh and exhaled. She peered from one Gresham sibling to the other. And how you two have become so strong and sure. Your magic hums under your skin and I can smell how strong it is now. Hermione stroked the golden scales appreciatively.

Her brother kicked her with his foot, and she turned to him. He nodded his head back and forth to Theo and Draco silently, and she brightened at his reminder to her.

"Oh" She exclaimed, sitting up higher, suddenly excited. "Dragon Mother, this is Theo," she gestured to the dark haired young man with whom the Dragon had taken particular interest only moments prior. He bowed to her then at the introduction as much as he could while seated and she blinked slowly in benevolent acknowledgement. "And Draco," she said, this time touching Draco's forearm as she spoke his name. The Dragon tilted her head to get a better look at him and she took a quick snuffing breath inward in his direction, only to puff quickly outward, blowing both his and her hair back from their faces rapidly. She made no similar accepting gesture to this young man, but neared him speculatively. Her green flecked golden eyes peering widely at him, considering him. Draco found himself suddenly very uncomfortable under the inspection as his awareness of how dwarfed he was by her sheer mass was all-to in his mind.

Her gaze was so intense that he found himself frozen in place under it, unable to look away as the head neared dangerously close to him. The deepness of their gold color transfixed him as she peered into the depths of him without flinching, as though to take in not only his appearance, but the very core of who he was. The pounding of his heart in his ears was the only noise he could hear in those long moments under her examination, that he prayed she wouldn't hear it. He swallowed then, loudly. And finally, the lid of the great eye blinked. Quickly, as it did to serve its function. And the Dragon took a deep breath in as she backed away, her gaze still pinning him down.

The sudden tension in the air was confusing to the three remaining, and Hermione found herself stumbling as she spoke suddenly, not considering her words. "There was no time to send word which riders were going to come with us." She glanced back. "Draco and Theo were… Unexpected." She admitted softly.

The Dragon leaned her snout downward, saying nothing, but her tail tightened very slightly around the ring she had formed protecting the nest before she rose up, and up until she stood entirely and bowed her spine upward, stretching like a great cat. Her stare never wavered from Draco.

She puffed one last warm breath and leaned down to Tyt'o to rub her chin across the top of his head. It has been a time since your last good meal. Stay with our eggs and I will bring something back for you. The Dragon didn't pause for any response, but stalked gracefully out from the nest and through the curve of the entrance to the mountains outside, leaving the four interlopers to their own devices.

Both Draco and Theo's jaws had gone slack watching the form of the Dragon as she stood – her body taking up the bulk of the space inside the cavern, and in all her mighty glory as she left that same cave in complete awe of the size and mass of her.

Their exposure to Dragon-kind had been so infrequent; having only seen Goldoduur from a distance in comparison, and never at close range like this. It was jarring, now, to see how utterly dwarfed they were by this beast.

"So what are we to do now?" Theo questioned, looking to both Tyt'o and Hermione. Tyt'o sighed and stretched his arms upward as he yawned openly.

"We do as bade; stay here and wait. If Imri is able to leave the eggs for a short period, it means that the primary incubation is likely through and the babies are going to come soon. Their warmth only needs to be maintained, not stoked overly." Theo cocked his head, curious about the information offered.

"How does that work, precisely?" He asked, turing his attention then to the egg nearest himself, and carefully smoothed his hands over the pearlescent surface. "It's so warm!" He said, finding himself fascinated and excited at being able to touch and feel this object –after so much talk and discussion of it- finally. Tyt'o opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione clucked her tongue at her brother to catch his attention. Her hand raised to bid him stop.

"First thing must be first, brother." She reminded him solemnly. Her gaze leveled at him expectantly. "We must tell them about the magic." And though her expression was serious, her hands had fallen into her lap to twist betwixt each other as she sighed then. He nodded.

"And so we must." He agreed, and she nodded. The young Heir considered his companions then. Their persons had become both familiar, and trusted: It was something he had not expected, but nevertheless, here they found themselves.

"Generations ago," he began slowly, "There was a great and terrible war between peoples of the lands. A struggle for power between the lined of Lords, and the people who toiled their lands as serfs bound to those Lords. The Lords cleaved of those people not only their freedoms, but their livelihoods as well. The people of the land were made to work the lands, but own not of them. They were to grow foods on the lands, but only keep what bare amounts they needed to survive. They were to raise the stock, train the animals, slaughter and salt, milk and carry, sow and toil, and all for Lords who shared nothing of the bounties to those people. The people lived in poverty and suffered illness and wear, nearly starved. They suffered for generation upon generation.

It was from a family such as this that a man by the name of Hammon rose to challenge the order of the Lords. His wife had taken ill and when Hammon cast aside his smithing hammer and his heavy leathers in need to care for her, the Lord had him whipped for his insolence. Hammon was the primary blacksmith to that Lord, and a master of his craft. And as Hammon lay bleeding, his wife lay beside him dying of an illness that could have been cured with herbs. Herbs controlled by the Lords and his healers, and made inaccessible to the common man.

She passed when Hammon took ill from infection of his wounds, and died without having bade love to her husband. When Hammon recovered, he was enraged and repudiate his family's servitude to the Lord who ruled those lands. He rallied peoples in his village to his cause, crying the unfairness of the conditions, and the deprivation they were forced to endure. It was unjust, unfair, and cruel. After so many years of oppression, his cause struck chords in the hearts of men and women in their village, and they rallied to the cause.

Fields were left untilled, livestock to fend for themselves, horses unshod, mills stilled and food was not sent to the Lords Houses. The protests were finally felt by the Lord, and it was only then that the Lord agreed to meet with the self-proclaimed instigator of this revolt.

And meet with him he did, and Hammon was led to the Lords castle, under protection of a white banner of peace, and he was run through with a blade. His body was cut in pieces and sent to the villages who had rebelled. His head left on a spike at the castle gate to remind anyone else what rebellion against a Lord wrought upon you.

Hammon's son was Emris, and he had magic. It was not uncommon for the common people to find that magic sprung up where it wished, but it was rare among them. Much as it can be now. But Emris was possessed of those magics, and he was powerful. All his life his father had shielded that power from the attentions of the Lords, and the village elders for fear they would kill him outright. That such a power should not exist outside of the family lines from a Great House of Lords.

With his mother dead, and his father butchered and murdered, Emris left his village. Penniless, and friendless, he abandoned his Lords lands and his position as the Lords' Smith.

It was Emris who travelled for years of his life to come finally to Morvan Rove; the lands of the Dragons, and treat with the Great Golden Rulers of Might and Justice. And was bid to stay, and welcomed to bind himself to a Dragon – the greatest Dragon of them all: Endryro, the Great Seer.

It was from this union that the House of Gresham was made. For Emris' name was Gresham. And in friendship, Endryro allowed him to build his castle in the protected lee of the mountain valley, and rule as Lord over the lands, for Emris had a kind heart. When word spread of the union between Dragon and mortal man, it was like a beacon of hope for the peoples of the lands who had so long suffered at the hands of greed.

And thus, peoples fled their Lords, and the lands their families had toiled for generations before, and they came to beg of Emris that they be allowed sanctuary upon the hallowed grounds of the Dragons lands. For they were vast, and lush, and fertile. For Dragons protected their territories wildly and viciously. No mortal man, Lord or not, dared to try to encroach.

And the Lords felt the pinches of their belts and the loss of coin, and dispatched troops to the lands to reclaim their 'stolen properties', as they claimed. Those forces were met with fire, and ash, and death, and nevermore did and Lords come to reclaim the peoples whom had fled from their cruelty.

And this was how our House came to be. Our ancestor bound himself and his magic to that of a Dragon. In friendship and prosperity, to defend and honor. For all of his descendants."

A quiet had fallen over the group as they listened to the story, and maintained as they waited for Tyt'o to continue. Draco cocked his head to the side. "But how does that matter to us?" He questioned. "What say you about the magic you spoke of before, and how it has changed Theo and I?"

Tyt'o glanced at his sister, and her expression grew pained. She lifted a hand to beg him still himself and she faced her paramour with an earnest countenance. "What this means," She began, "is that to bind himself to the Dragon, he was to share in its life-force. Both magical and physiological. It is to say that to ride a Dragon, you must share your magic with it, and become a part of what makes it such." Draco glanced between Tyt'o and Hermione quickly.

"But Theo and I have shared no such magic with anything. Anyone. Not since we have arrived here." She fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting to her brother once more.

"Not entirely true," she murmured. "Do you remember the water falls at Dragon Tears?" She asked softly, and he nodded. "It was the first time we brought you into the forest –A Dragon's Forest- and bid you share with us in drink and intention. The feeling of that new magic all around you? Within you?" He cocked his head to the side at her words, like a curious pup.

"What could that possibly matter?" He asked, and she shifted again, and took his hand in her own. Connecting the warmth of herself to him as she continued onward. "Magic is magic, isn't it?

"The magic that surrounds these lands is ancient and imbued into the very earth beneath us. These lands were Dragon lands for a thousand generations before came to by mortal men. They have a magical presence unlike anything in the world – all Dragon lands are thus." She paused. "Do you remember the hyter sprites, and the brownies, the little spirits everywhere while we were in the woods?" He nodded.

"Such things exist in few other places, for there are men there to chase them away by cutting the wood, and tilling the earth beneath. They have no protection from harm as they do here, as the magic is strong and fierce." She smiled then. "It was through those seasons of celebration that those magics… recognized you as one of their own." She trailed off slightly, and Tyt'o continued onward.

"This magic is not endemic to you. You two are outsiders to us; you were not raised here. By drinking from the waters and taking the rites of our Gods, you have been baptized in it. The food, the waters you bathed in; all of these influenced your magics. It is how you came to hear the Calling." Hermione's eyes watered as her expression grew pleading.

"You are all but blood to us now. At least the Dragons will see it so." He finished finally.

But even as Draco's expression still showed questions, Theo picked up immediately, speaking in a kind of whisper. "Your ancestor was bound to this land in order to stay, wasn't he?" The silence that followed was the only answer they could give, and even Tyt'o found himself looking downward at his hands.

"The magic you need to ride a Dragon is given by the Dragons. You are blessed with it, and bound to it, also." She whispered, and Draco squinted partly.

"Why then is this so dire? We have magic already. We've had it all our lives. Hells fires, we've spent the whole of summer and winter refining our ability to conjure and use those magics. How can that be changed." Tyt'o sighed, and looked to his two friends.

"It hasn't changed. Your magic will always be your magic. But too, now, it will be the magic that you will share with your Dragon, and she will share with you when she grows into it fully." He took a deep breath and pinned his stare to his sister finally; their twin colored eyes meeting briefly as he again turned to their two friends. "As she thrives, so shall you. As she grows, so shall you. And should she suffer, so should you."

Theo tilted his head and looked slowly at Draco, a pale wash coloring his face. Draco looked much the same. "So if something happens to our Dragon, our magic-"

"Will be gone as well." Hermione interrupted with a quiet whisper.

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