Chapter Six: The Eyes of the Dragon
Hermione sat at the long wooden table, her dinner cold and untouched in front of her as she pored over the last two years of arithmancy homework and notes. Malfoy didn't know what he was talking about. He had been in advanced arithmancy for less than twenty four hours and he was already acting superior and obnoxious, not to mention he had the annoyingly brazen confidence to be polite about it.
While Hermione worked, she failed to see the others leave—one by one in silence off to their common rooms for games and conversation, the library to study, or a broom closet for an evening snog. Time passed rapidly, the way it does only in dreams, and it was the snuffing of the candles and the fire in the great hall that brought her to her senses. She stood, gathering her things and began her journey to the Gryffindor common room.
The second her right foot hit the staircase, all of the candles along the walls hissed out. That's odd… she thought, but continued upwards to the second landing where she took a right. Hiss…Hiss… more candles were extinguished. Her footsteps sped up, but the faster she walked, the faster the flames disappeared until finally, she was in utter darkness.
"Hello!" She called out, fear tightening into a knot inside her chest. Reaching out her hand, she felt cold, rough stone. A sigh of relief escaped her. The wall with all its texture gave her a point of reference, a release from the nothingness.
A gust of wind swept past her, ruffling her robes. Voices were coming from down the hallway. They were muffled by distance and… some kind of interference—almost like a radio with a faulty antenna. Terrified it was a teacher and that she would get into trouble, Hermione pressed her back solidly against the wall, hoping the interlopers would pass in peace without noticing her.
She watched in frightened curiosity as the voices approached, going exactly where she wished they wouldn't. The candles down the corridor came to life again as the voices took the final turn around the corner. It was as if the voices themselves carried the light with them. Now two indistinct figures could be seen approaching, the interference lessening the closer they got. Her eyes squinted, saw, and she let out a howl of laughter. It was Harry and Ron.
"What on earth are you doing?" Ron asked Hermione.
"Me? What are you two doing?" She asked, relief instantly giving way to disapproval.
Ron stared at Hermione, dumbfounded. He looked at Harry and Harry looked back at him, seemingly just as confused. "We're on the way to Care of Magical Creatures. It starts in like… five minutes."
"Care of…" Hermione's voice trailed off. "That's problematic, isn't it? Considering we dropped it after OWLs. You're going to have to come up with a better—"
"Hermione, we're going," Harry said, a deadly serious look in his green eyes. "You can skip it again if you'd like, but Ron and I can't be late again, or it will be a detention."
They swept past her, taking the light with them. Hermione bit her lip, threw her bag over her shoulder and followed them. Whatever trouble they were getting into, they would probably need her help to get out of it. She could give them a good scolding later.
Even as they walked through empty halls, the darkness only countered by the halo of light around her two friends, something felt eerily wrong. She couldn't quite place her finger on it.
Harry pushed the doors to the front hall open to reveal the stone steps outside. There were many paths they could take, but the one to the left would lead them towards Hagrid's hut, the location of their Care of Magical Creatures class, which she was sure they didn't have.
This thought renewed her suspicion and triggered her inability to keep a question to herself. "Even if we had Care of Magical Creatures, why would Hagrid schedule it at night—"
"Did you hit your head today or something?" Ron asked seriously. "You've never forgotten a class before—even in your nightmares, I'm sure."
This quieted Hermione. If they were right, that would mean that she had missed every Care of Magic Creatures class the last month. Even with Hagrid being a friend, her grade must be appalling… She would have to speak with both professor McGonagall and Hagrid to sort it out, spend her only free period making up homework—
The descent became steeper and she was able to look out over the clearing that separated the castle from their destination, which lay quaintly at the edge of the forbidden forest. That is when she saw it. Every other thought fled her mind as she took in large, sharp teeth, red eyes, and black scales. There were a dozen other students gathered in the dark. They were talking in small groups, staring in wonder at the beast that stood before them shackled pathetically with a single length of thick iron chain.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione approached the paddock slowly, stopping more than a hundred feet from a colossal Norwegian Ridgeback.
Hagrid was standing at the beast's side, looking at them all with an expression of joy on his face. It was obvious he thought he had given them all the best surprise of their lives, and while he wasn't wrong, it certainly wasn't a surprise any of them would have wished for. He seemed oblivious to the mortal danger they were all in, or the fact that his students were too shocked and frightened to advance any closer.
Confused and suddenly nervous, he did what he always did in these situations. He beckoned them forward. As if pulled by an invisible string, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked awkwardly towards the danger. The others stopped talking and watched in bewilderment. Hermione looked from face to face, unable to recognize a single soul, except her two friends and Hagrid. The harder her eyes tried to focus, the blurrier the features became. A leaden ache filled her chest and for the first time, she considered that this might be a nightmare.
"'ave you ever seen a more beautiful creature? Grown so much since the last time I saw him." Hagrid's eyes filled with tears as he beamed up at his severe and deadly looking friend.
"Hagrid," Hermione began fearfully. "That's not—"
"Norbert? It is! Jus' back from his time in Egypt. Bill took such good care o' him. He's a healthy size for a dragon of six years." Hagrid said proudly sounding just like a parent whose child was home from a term away at school. "You recognized him... and he recognizes you too," he said, focusing his bleary eyes on Hermione. "Come on. Come on closer, 'ermione."
Hermione looked to Harry, who nodded even as he and Ron backed away. She took a haltingly slow step forward, as if her shoes were made of brick. "You really shouldn't have a dragon here, Hagrid. They're quite dangerous and Dumbledore would be very cross if a student got hurt…" Hagrid's face failed to register a word of her warnings. He held out his giant hand, waiting for her to take hold and join him at the dragon's side. "Remember Buckbeak?"
"Norbert is as 'armless as Buckbeak was, now get up here!"
Hermione had never refused the direct entreaty of a professor before, but this time she was sorely tempted. However, the thought of what her grade must be and how many classes she had skipped… she had no choice but to comply. Grasping the half-giant's rough hand with both of hers, she allowed herself to be yanked sharply upwards and into the gaze of a very large, very nervous dragon.
"Do you remember what kind of dragon 'e is?" Hagrid asked.
Hermione's chocolate brown eyes didn't leave the creature's red ones as she answered. "Hungarian Horntail. Average size fifty-five feet in length. Mechanism of defense includes two reactive chemicals secreted from a gland inside the mouth below the tongue that, when combined with the heat of the dragon's breath combust…"
"Very good! Fifteen points for Gryffindor!" Hagrid shouted gleefully, but his voice sounded suddenly far away.
Hagrid's exclamation of joy had unsettled the dragon and it was now snarling and chomping at its chains trying to free itself. It seemed to Hermione that the dragon was trying to reach her, but she was just inches too far from his angrily snapping jaws. Seeing this, she immediately fled back to the safety of the grass.
It took Hagrid several minutes of work to calm the dragon down enough that Hermione would return to the paddock. "Okay now. Pet 'im."
"Are you kidding me?" She breathed, heart pounding, but Hagrid hadn't heard her. He was too busy cooing into the dragon's ear. When she hesitated, his voice broke and he and the dragon both looked at her expectantly.
Knowing what Norbert had done to Ron's hand when it was just a baby, Hermione had serious misgivings about putting her hand anywhere near the now full grown dragon's mouth. But again, her position was precarious and she had no choice. Hagrid must know what he's doing. She would be having a serious conversation with McGonagall in the morning, she decided.
She leaned up on her tiptoes and touched the back of her hand to its nose. The scales that covered its face were hard and rough, cold to the touch. Her hand reached its nostril and she felt a deep primordial warmth building. The dragon gave a large sniff and reared up. Hermione jumped back, slipping off the paddock. She landed with a painful thud on her back, knocking the air from her lungs. To her horror, the dragon had broken its chains.
"It's alright, Hermione. 'e's harmless." Hermione looked over her shoulder to plan a path of escape when she realized she was suddenly alone. All the other students had disappeared into a thick white fog and Hagrid was fast joining them.
Scrambling onto her knees, Hermione crawled away as fast as she could into the dense mist. In the back of her mind, she knew she must be nearing the edge of the forest. She could hear the dragon's noisy pursuit pause as it sniffed the air, loudly searching for her scent. She took the moment to jump to her feet and went into a full sprint. The further she moved, the thicker the fog grew until she could hardly breathe. Her clothes were damp and sticking to her and she realized with embarrassment she was wearing her pajamas—the pink and teal ones covered in ice cream cones and kittens.
The dragon was close on her heels and her heart was pounding. With the sudden resolution that this dragon would not chase her into the Forbidden Forest, she stopped and turned on her heel to face the beast. She would handle this just as she had handled Grawp—with a firm hand or hopefully enough luck to fake it convincingly.
She could hear its continued approach, but she remained as still as possible. Slowly, a gray figure formed at the edge of the mist and one scaled foot followed by the other entered the clearing.
"It's just Norbert, 'ermione! Call 'im by 'is name!" Hagrid's voice was further away than ever and Hermione took a deep breath as the whole beast emerged through the mist and materialized less than fifteen feet from where she stood, shivering and shaking.
"You will stop," she said, her voice cracking. The dragon's cold eyes looked straight through her and he took yet another step. Ten feet away now. She balled her hands into fists and felt a roar rip from her chest. "Norbert, stop!" The dragon blanched as if it had been struck. His eyes, red and hungry peered at her as he lifted a foot tentatively. He was testing her will. "You will stop, Norbert." Her voice was quiet now, but firm and unyielding. His foot dropped back to the ground with a thunderous whomp and he hung his head low, resting his chin on the wet grass just feet from Hermione's toes. Hermione could feel the dragon's warm breath and under other, less dangerous circumstances, it might have tickled.
Hermione thought about running. The dragon was savage and vicious by nature. This particular dragon though was also murderous and hungry—Hagrid had said as much before he insisted she pet him. The urge to flee faded, as did the redness in Norbert's eyes. Instead, his eyes were cold and gray—filled with longing and sadness.
An unexpected revelation struck her. Hagrid had been wrong. This wasn't Norbert at all. How could they have all been so stupid? This was another dragon altogether. As she looked at the dragon's hunched shoulders and sulking ocean blue eyes, she knew rather than believed he, whatever his true name was, meant her no harm. Foolish courage filled her chest and she stepped forward so slowly she could feel every blade of grass as it brushed against the bottoms of her feet. Two steps and she was within reach of the dragon.
Holding her breath as she reached out, Hermione stroked the end of the dragon's nose with her outstretched hand. The dragon moved a little, brushing against her hand affectionately. Hermione jerked away, her heart thudding against her ribcage. Falling to her knees, she laid her head against his cheek and began to hum. It was an old tune, one her father had sang to Hermione as a child when she was too afraid to sleep. The dragon's big eyes drooped and then lowered completely. He was asleep and Hermione was fast joining him.
A thunderous boom filled the clearing and the dragon's head shot up in defensive irritation. Hermione looked up at the huge beast and felt her fear return. Another boom, this one even louder filled the clearing and the dragon fled, leaving Hermione alone in the fog. Boom. The ground beneath her feet shook and she stumbled forward. Boom. Her feet faltered and she stopped trying to stand. Boom. Whatever was coming was much closer now. Boom… Boom…Boom.
Silence filled the clearing and Hermione's heart seemed to stop. The booming steps had ceased. She waited with bated breath for a sight of the thing that could send a Norwegian Ridgeback fleeing like a frightened puppy, but it never appeared. It just stood there barely behind the veil of mist staring at her—watching her…
…
Hermione woke with a start so violent that she upturned her chair and landed hard on the cold floor of the common room. Harry and Ron looked up from their own homework and eyed her weirdly.
"Have I mentioned lately that gallantry seems to be stone dead?" Came the snarky voice of Ginny as she approached and offered Hermione a steady hand. Hermione took it gratefully and Ginny pulled her to her feet. With a look of disgust, Ginny wiped her hands on her pants. "You're all sweaty. Are you feeling alright?"
"Just a bad dream," Hermione said quickly. It had felt so real. She could still feel the dragon's scales beneath her fingertips, could still see his expression of pain and yearning… and that awful creature—her breast was still seized with fear.
Ginny walked her to the oversized loveseat by the fire. Hermione sank into the large, squishy cushions and allowed the comfort of the common room to envelope her. Ginny, reading an old and battered copy of Quidditch through the Ages, leaned against her in silent solidarity, daring some of the nosier occupants of the room to ask questions.
Hermione's fear faded with the warmth of the fire and the mirthful laughter that managed to fill the entire space around her. It really was just a dream, she told herself, but she couldn't let go of the echo of dread it had left inside her chest.
"Hey Harry?" She called out and he barely turned his gaze to her as he grunted, acknowledging her. "We don't have Care of Magical Creatures at midnight do we?"
Harry stopped what he was doing—Ronald too—and they stared at her as if she were insane. "No one has Care of Magical Creatures at midnight and we dropped it this year anyways."
Hermione smiled and settled in, perfectly content for once to read over someone's shoulder.
…
The next morning during breakfast, Hermione sat and ate with her arithmancy text propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice.
After several minutes of uninterrupted reading, she leaned back with a frustrated growl. She had spent the last hour doing and redoing her calculations. Before Malfoy's challenge, Hermione had been quite comfortable with her belief in Pythagoras and his predecessor Agrippa, but now… since her dream, she found herself even more dissatisfied with what had transpired.
Just as Malfoy had stated, Pythagorean was too logical and simple, Agrippan was too vague, and Hermione had never really had enough of a grasp of either Chinese or Arabic to understand the Lo Shu or Abjad methodology.
She shoved the pile of ruined parchment away and stood, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. It was almost time for Advanced Transfiguration and she definitely didn't want to be late for McGonagall's class. Harry and Ron had already left, not understanding her sudden obsession with arithmantic theory, which they had jokingly implied was mastered by her in the womb. When their jeers had failed to amuse her or snap her out of it, they did what they always did—left her to it.
Her eyes wandered back to the numbers written almost sloppily across page after page and wondered why she had been so resistant to the Chaldean method. It was more complicated… less predictable, but yes, it was more accurate. Hermione had never been closed minded for the simple fact that something was hard. She concluded after several minutes of pondering that it had to be the fact that Pythagorean and Agrippan methods were heavily influenced by the modern Greeks and that the Chaldean method must have gone out of fashion, either for religious or social reasons… it was the only thing that made sense.
Whatever it was, Hermione was most decidedly irked that someone like Draco Malfoy had been the one to open her eyes. Feeling a prickly sensation in her spine, Hermione turned just quickly enough to see a blur of robes disappear through the door out of the great hall. Attached had been a shock of platinum hair and a blur of green and silver.
Hermione quickly shoved her books inside her back and raced out into the hall. Looking left and right and upwards, she sighed. There was no way he could move that fast. Something was up with Malfoy. Ever since his unexplained fall from "heaven" a month ago and Hermione was determined she would figure it out.
…
Draco leaned his head back against the cool stone just inside the entrance hall. He waited, holding his breath. He heard enter the hall and pause for just a moment. He heard her whisper something to herself, her voice soft and frustrated, then turn down the hallway leading to the transfiguration wing. He too would head that way, as soon as he was sure she was too far ahead for him to catch up before reaching the classroom.
This whole mess was becoming very complicated. Her looks of distrust and her suspicious behavior cut more deeply than he would have admitted. He took solace in memories, but those were more and more fleeting as reality began to consume him.
Yesterday had been day one of his secret operation, which he aptly called Operation River Otter in his mind—it was Hermione's favorite animal and coincidentally her patronus. But nothing had gone as planned and now Draco was more lost than ever.
On his way into the great hall for breakfast, a cold hand had grabbed him and tugged him into an adjoining, but abandoned corridor. Draco was furious about being manhandled, and the aching hunger of his teenage body made his irritation all the greater. Upon glimpsing Snape's pale and serious face however, Draco bit his tongue.
"How is it going?" Snape asked, obviously agitated.
"Swell, professor. Thanks," Draco said stupidly and turned to leave. Snape, fast as a cobra, snatched him up and slammed him against the stone wall.
"Do not play games with me, Mr. Malfoy," the man snarled, his acrid breath making Draco cringe. Looking into his cold black eyes, Draco could see the desperation and yes, fear and it suddenly occurred to him what Snape was referring to. His blood ran cold. Of course. Sixth year. Draco shoved Snape's hands off his robes and straightened them in mock annoyance, even as his hands shook.
"It is none of your business," Draco said flatly, surprised he had managed a somewhat convincing tone of confidence and self-importance.
"It bloody well is my business," Snape replied sharply, reigning his temper in somewhat. "I made a vow. Your failure will be the death of us both."
"What makes you think I am going to fail?" Draco asked, feeling a sickening sense of déjà vu.
"What preparations have you made? What are your plans? The Dark Lord is most anxious for your task to be complete." Snape swept a nervous hand through his greasy hair and looked away, checking both ends of the hallway before looking back into Draco's now composed face.
"Yes, the vow you made binds our fates together," Draco stated, his lip curling in disgust. "But this is my task—my mission. I can't very well do what needs to be done with you breathing down my neck, can I?"
Severus Snape had never, in all the years Draco had known him, looked more furious. The scene matched almost perfectly with Draco's memory of the event, but the feelings were so different, he could barely contain them. Snape slammed his fist into the wall by Draco's left ear and stormed away, his robes billowing behind him.
Draco sank to his knees, his empty stomach heaving in anxiety. How could he have forgotten… And why hadn't Dumbledore said anything? He knew. He had known the whole time.
Reaching into his bag, Draco pulled out his calendar. It was October 8th. The cursed necklace was suddenly remembered in the locked box under his four poster and Draco realized he only had three days to decide what he would do.
A/N: Yay! Got over my writer's block. This chapter is not nearly as well put together as I would have liked. It was a pain in the butt to write and took much longer than it should have. I ended up just having to go for it, even if it isn't perfect. PLEASE if you have constructive thoughts, share :) Thank you for reading!
