A/N: Again, my thanks to everyone for reading this far. I know I'm supposed to be clever at this point but I can never do it. My mind goes on vacation as soon as I try to be spontaneous and clever. I know it will return as soon as I do something stupid, just to laugh at me along with everyone else.

Chapter 8: Exit The Dragon

It was almost noon. Despite that, no one in the room had yet been to bed. The exception was Draco Malfoy. He admitted that he fell asleep during his long journey.

It was a small group that had gathered in the headmaster's office. With Albus Dumbledore and the young Malfoy were Charlie Weasley and his friend Dafydd. Draco recognized the oriental looking man by the fact that he had a strong Welsh accent. They were recounting their adventures in pursuit of the Hebridian Black dragon that had emerged from the bowels of Gringotts Bank.

"We were in the Leaky Cauldron when it happened," Charlie Weasley explained. "We were meeting with Ludo Bagman, concerning the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We had just retired to a private room on the second floor when we heard . . ."

"And felt," Dafydd added.

". . . and definitely felt the bank explode. All three of us arose and ran over to the window looking out on Diagon Alley. We were in time to see the dragon take flight."

As Charlie described it, the beast appeared to be old and ill kept. (He smiled when Draco told him he was right about that.) Their first concern was about what the dragon might do. Dafydd, with Bagman, rushed to the sporting goods shop to get a broom. It was a lucky thing Bagman went with him because the shop manager would never have given one of his brooms to a stranger, much less two. Bagman's assurance that the Ministry would cover the cost was the only thing that convinced him.

By the time Dafydd was aloft, the dragon was out of sight. He flew down and walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the bartender told him that "the Weasley fellow" had said north by north, north west. It was heading toward Cambridge.

Charlie Weasley had apparated to the roof of a nearby office building to judge which way the Dragon was going. He apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and gave Tom the message. Then he apparated to a point he knew in North London. As the dragon flew past, he apparated to another point further north. That was when he noticed the dragon was holding something. Someone. He waited for Dafydd at this point, signaling with his wand so he would be easily spotted.

When Dumbledore mentioned that it was quick thinking on both their parts, it was Dafydd who explained that they would do the same thing together when a dragon got loose back in Rumania. The only difference was the distance they shadowed this dragon.

It was not an exciting journey. If anything, after the first half hour, it was boring. The dragon seemed to know where it was going, and the dragon preserve was in the north, anyway, so there was no need to try to coerce its path. All they had to do was follow. Which they did. Hour after bloody hour.

It was near dawn when the dragon landed. The two men flew quietly and carefully to a spot down wind where they could be close enough to see what it did, yet not be seen. That was when they spotted Draco. The dragon had released him and was watching as the boy stretched his muscles. Charlie admitted that fear shot through him when the dragon leaned over Draco and opened its mouth.

"Her mouth," Draco corrected.

"And how did you know it was female?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco shrugged. "Dunno. Jus' knew."

Charlie began to relate what they saw. The dragon butted Draco with its nose, knocking him down. Then it rose on its hind legs and shot flame into the air. Then . . . it looked at Draco.


"Whot?" Draco yelled.

The dragon reared again and roared another mouthful of flame. It returned to watching him.

A thought occurred to Draco. It was silly but . . . maybe the dragon wanted him to do the same thing. A second thought occurred. More a memory, really. Of a Yank named Jack who spoke strange limericks. It was that one about the cups that had convinced him to try getting Helga Hufflepuff's cup to begin with. And one line was one begets a mother's flame. And Draco had shown his patronus, a dragonet. The dragon knew he wasn't an adult. But it knew he wasn't a baby. This second thought was that she wanted to see if he could take care of himself.

As soon as he thought that, he knew he was correct. He also knew that the dragon was becoming impatient, as with a troublesome child.

"Fine, I'll give it a go." Draco drew his wand and tried to concentrate. "FLAMMUS ERECTOR."

The dragon harumphed. That was the best Draco could described it. It then leaned low but with its head pointing away from Draco. He had a broadside view of what she was doing. A quick intake of air. A sudden release of flame with her roar. And he smiled. The roar was an important part of the flaming. The vibrations of the yell caused the combustible exhalation to ignite. But . . . he couldn't exhale flammable gas.

It was a problem. He needed to produce the effect of a flame thrower as opposed to a wall of fire. The flame was not for defense. He needed to be able to attack. Keeping that thought in mind, he tried again. When he was done, he had the nagging feeling that he was being laughed at. The dragon was watching him, so he tried a third time, then a fourth. As a reward for trying it the fourth time, he was given another demonstration,

"Flame?" Draco thought. Not a structure made of fire but only the raw flame. He knew what he wanted to do but he didn't know the proper words or gestures. After a fifth and sixth try, he decided not to try forming a spell. He would simply yell. At least the dragon would know he was making an effort.

And he yelled. "ARGH."

A flame shot out of his wand, about a foot.

The dragon made a chirping noise. She knew Draco was on the right track.

Draco tried it again, yelling louder. The flame was three times the size.

Draco screamed, thinking only about making the flames. A spout of flame almost as long as the dragon came shooting out of his wand. The dragon roared its approval with its own flame. Compared to Draco's flame, it was obvious. He was a child. But, in the dragon's eyes, he was now a formidable one.

She smiled.

"Smiled?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, you know, dragon smile." Draco shrugged his shoulders again.

She smiled and fanned her wings.

Draco knew exactly what she meant.

"Crisp it."


Neither Charlie nor Dafydd could continue for the moment. Even Dumbledore chuckled.

"Why would a dragon want to make sure Draco could fly?" the Headmaster asked. "Is your theory proven correct? Are they empathic?"

Dafydd pointed out that Draco was the proof. That was what made this a wonderful day, despite no sleep and eight hours of nonstop broom flying. Draco knew the dragon was female. He could tell the dragon's mood. He even knew he had no reason to be frightened.

Draco was startled. He had never noticed that, himself. He was surprised when the dragon first grabbed him but, as he had admitted, he was being held so comfortably that he fell asleep until the dragon started to land. But the man was correct. He was never afraid.

"Cor," Draco muttered. "I got me a new mum. Better tell Janice."

"Janice?" Charlie Weasley asked.

"Me sister."

"I thought you were an only child."

"Yeah?"

"The dragon was flapping its wings," Dumbledore prompted.

Dafydd picked up the story again. He and Charlie had a good laugh when they finally understood what the dragon was doing. When the dragon began flapping its wings, they knew what it meant. And they knew Draco was in trouble. "And we had two brooms."

Dafydd picked up one of the brooms and held it like a spear. His plan was to throw the broom so that it landed near to the boy. If that didn't work, they would try plan B. Yell at Draco to call the other broom with his wand followed shortly by apparating out of reach of an angry and startled dragon. Plan A worked, but barely.

As Dafydd leaned back to toss the broom, Draco tried flapping his arms. The Welshman didn't mean to, but he barked a laugh as he let go of the broom.

Dragon and Draco were instantly alert. The dragon saw the two men, but Draco also noticed the broom that had been thrown off course. He ran to it.

The dragon watched carefully. Had Draco run toward the two men, she would have attacked. Instead he was running to one side. It didn't know why. Until Draco grabbed the broom.

The dragon leaped into the air, flaming as it did so. Draco, flying in a circle around the dragon, shot out a flame of his own. Two men on the ground watched as a joyful dragon flew in the air with its adopted cub. Dafydd admitted that he was probably the only one who was prepared for what happened next. In his study of dragons, parent-child relations were an important part. That was where the empathic bond was most evident. He told Charlie to watch. The dragon was about to leave.


As the dragon began to fly north, Draco automatically followed. He admitted later that he didn't even think about it. It seemed like something he should do. But the dragon twisted its head and spat flame at him. Not directly at him. At where he would have been if he did not instantly stop.

Draco was surprised. And hurt. The dragon had taken so much effort to make sure he was safe, to make sure he could take care of him self. And now?

The dragon kept flying. Draco tried to follow again. The dragon turned its head. Draco slowed. The dragon smiled at him. Draco laughed.

He was being kicked out of the house. He was old enough to take care of himself. Draco flamed. The dragon looked back, then turned its head forward. It also flamed. Draco flew after her. Flew around her. Briefly flew next to her so they could see eye to eye. He said goodbye and pulled up, flying back the way he had come.


Charlie was smiling. "He landed. We made quick introductions. A Scotsman appeared and said they would track it from here. He glanced at Draco and laughed."

"Meant it in a nice way," Dafydd said. "He wants us to come up for a bit, tell them what happened. He caught Draco's act as well."

Dumbledore nodded. He then turned to the youngest member of the group. "Now that we know what happened after the dragon escapes, I want to know what happened before."

Draco swallowed hard. "I wanted to see the dragon. Casper told everyone about it. And I knew Kreacher could apparate in and out of Gringotts. So, I had him apparate me in so I could have a look see." Draco knew the question that was coming. "I forgot to ask if he could apparate me out as well. I thought . . . it doesn't matter now."

"And you released the dragon so you could escape?" came the accusation.

An image of a dozen angry goblins swam before Draco's vision. As they disappeared in flame, Draco snarled. "I released the dragon so she could escape." His face fell. "Weren't t'inkin' 'bout me."

Draco described the dragon as best he could. The restraining chains. The mournful sound it made. The rummy eyes. The scars from . . .

Draco stopped. He couldn't continue. His own feelings were overwhelming him. Nor did he have to. He barely heard Dumbledore's explanation to the other two men. Draco had found a kindred spirit. What shocked him back to reality was Charlie Weasley's surprised remark of "Bloody Hell."

Draco looked up and their eyes met. Charlie's were conflicted, confused, as he tried to translate the headmaster's remark into a coherent thought.

"He doesn't understand," Dumbledore said.

"Good," was Draco's reply.


As the two guests departed for lunch and rest, Dumbledore asked Draco to stay.

"There was something that happened that you did not want them to know about. Do you want to tell me? I'll make it easier on you. Your DADA professor, Remus Lupin, mentioned to me in confidence that his friends had approached you. To 'pick your mind', shall we say, about stealing a cup."

"Um . . ."

"When you were found missing, your friends admitted that you were asking about Gringotts, about how to rob the bank."

"Um . . ."

"That is not an appropriate answer."

"Don' know the words," Draco snapped, angrily. "Bugger all, yeah, I stole the cup but -" In an instant the anger faded. "I threw it away when I saw . . ."

Draco looked up. He knew the fear shown in his eyes, on his face.

"The cup. The dragon's flame. When it was destroyed, I felt . . . like the diary . . . like the . . ." He had almost said 'locket' but stopped himself. Now he was staring blankly at the headmaster.

"Yes, Draco. Voldemort was the one who stole the cup and he twisted it to his own purposes, as he did the diary. Its destruction was a good thing. Although this does complicate things. Once the theft is discovered, I can give no guarantee that I can protect you."

"Won't be noticed offhand," Draco admitted. "Done left a replica in its place."

"Then we shall wait and see what happens," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Best not to mention it to anyone."

"An' the dragon? Won't they be ticked?"

"They are, Draco. And they know you were involved. The goblins are already filing complaints. And I must ask you to excuse me. I must ask the Minister to verify that the 'ill kept' dragon we found you with was the one that escaped from the bank."

Hermione explained it easily, to everyone within hearing, when Dumbledore's question made the Daily Prophet. "It's animal cruelty. They may have had the right to keep a dragon but no one has a right to do that to anyone."

Kreacher, at Draco's request, agreed to tell anyone who asked him that it was to see the dragon. Kreacher was also the only other person he told about the cup.

One more thing did occur that hadn't happened before. For whatever reason, Draco decided to attend his Defense class. Professor Lupin did not say anything to the new arrival, although he did smile. And that smile made Draco feel small. It was a smile that clearly said, 'thank you'. Inside, he knew the thanks was not only because he came to class.