Seven

A Dragon's Fire

Speak politely to an enraged dragon – J.R.R Tolkien

The pair arrived in Ireland with a pop and a half halted squawk.

Hermione's screech died when she saw where they were; the Giant's Causeway. The basalt columns lay beneath her feet and for once she was speechless. Draco smirked at her silence.

"Now Granger, we are not here for the sites." He snarked as he started to walk in an undeterminable direction – Hermione just stood and turned in a circle, taking every sight in, quietly marvelling at the knowledge and experience before her.

"I've only been to Ireland once but I have never seen this," she said so quietly that Draco barely heard her from a couple of columns ahead of her. "Do you know the story that goes behind the causeway?" She went on, not giving him any input as she hurried on to tell him what she knew. She was the storyteller treading the steps of not only Draco, who she had decided to follow, but actual giants.

"The story of the Giant's Causeway goes as follows:

The giant was 54 feet tall and he was called Finn McCool. Finn lived happily on the Antrim coast with his wife Oonagh until he discovered he had a rival in Scotland known as Benandonner. Finn was frequently taunted by Benandonner from afar and on one occasion Finn scooped up a clod of earth and hurled it across the sea at him but missed. The huge clod of earth landed in the middle of the Irish Sea making the Isle of Man and the depression formed from scooping up the earth filled up with water to become Lough Neagh.

Finn finally challenged Benandonner to a proper fight and decided to build a causeway of enormous stepping stones across the sea to Scotland, so that he could walk across without getting his feet wet. But as he approached and caught sight of the great bulk of Benandonner, Finn became afraid and fled back home, with Benandonner hot on his trail. In his haste as he ran, Finn lost one of his great boots and today it can be seen sitting on the foreshore in Port Noffer where it fell to the ground.

Finn then asked his wife Oonagh to help him hide. Clever Oonagh disguised Finn as a baby and pushed him into a huge cradle, so when Benandonner saw the size of the sleeping 'child', he assumed the father must be gigantic. Benandonner fled home in terror, ripping up the Causeway as he went in case he was followed.

That is the reason that the Giant's Causeway exists in north Antrim, with similar columns at Fingal's Cave on the Scottish island of Staffa."

"We are also not here for stories." Draco said as he went merrily on his way, inspecting each column individually for something Hermione did not know. "But there is a flaw in your rendition," Draco played out a half smile at Hermione's sudden, curious cocked head. "To disguise Finn as a baby, Oonagh invested into the help of a local witch. The witch was old but had helped the locals for many years and agreed to help, which meant casting several glamour's in order for Finn to play his part. As a reward for her efforts another passage was created in the causeway; a passage that led not across the land but beneath. The witch created a sanctuary for other witches and wizards and for it to be recognised carved the image of a baby's cradle into one of the columns."

Hermione was astonished at Draco but she did not, however, join in with him on his search for the carving.

"It's so pleasing to know that I have your undivided help in the search." Draco said deadly, kneeling down to inspect a particular low column.

"What do you mean Draco, you always have my help." Hermione replied and knelt next to him. In this position she could also see the slightly shimmering image of a cradle carved upon the side of the column. Draco pressed a hand to it and whispered Clochan an Dragon and there before the duo the ground began to rumble. Stepping back was a good choice as the ground, of where they had just been standing, crumbled to reveal a set of steps spiralling into darkness.

Without an exchange of words the pair set off into the black, although Hermione could see little twinkling balls of light illuminating the way before her (very much like the old muggle renditions of fairy lights). They arrived at a small horizontal space with a wall of moss, Hermione thought that the witch, that created the wizarding community, was very strict on protection. Draco simply put his hand to the moss, as if he was going to talk to it, and opened his lips to sing.

"Dream, Dream, grah mo chree[1]
Here on your Mamma's knee
Angels are guarding and they watch o'er thee
As you sleep may Angels watch over
And may they guard o'er thee."

Hermione had no time to revel in his song as a crack spread along the wall, splintering off into many different strands and caused the rock face to crumble, the boulders disappearing into nothing.

Before her lay a cobbled street, identical to Diagon Alley back home. And as Hermione looked back the wall was there again, as though it had never came away before her eyes.

"Welcome," Draco crooned, "To Clochan an Dragon."

Hermione wished that she had more eyes so she could see the wonders that lay before her. The alleyway was huge and a lot bigger than Diagon Alley could ever be. Although, they were both very similar, they were also very different. The cobbled road on which she currently stood, was framed by countless buildings; shops selling the necessary and the bizarre, windows full of wonders such as piles among piles of cups, scrolls, cauldrons, books. Hermione was sure that without magic the piles would topple over without a second thought. There was also an aroma that made her want to chase it until it would invade and stay in her nostrils. It smelled like chocolate and cotton candy and every morsel of food that a child dreams of. Outside the shops were paths with painted bricks, a rainbow road like in Mario, and there were people singing and playing instruments and dancing, contorting their bodies much like acrobats in a circus, and throwing people into the air. Hermione looked up, she would have never guessed that she was underground. The area was well lit, with the ceiling going so high that Hermione had to take a step back to see it all. They were all under the very sea and she could see fish carrying on with their daily lives overhead.

Hermione had to spin to take it all in; she couldn't even see the end of the alleyway.

"Wow…" she uttered, there was no other word with a definition that would fit.

"Amazing isn't it?" Draco said as he stood behind her, his arms crossed and a smug smile on his lips. Hermione wanted to wipe it off of his face but there was much more important matters at hand so she just nodded.

"How do you know about this place?"

"My Godfather took me here once and Granger don't ask me why or how Snape would do that," he then stalked passed her, which Hermione took as the ending of the conversation. "Now, we both need wands and then we can go check in somewhere and relax." With that Draco led her further along the alleyway and to a building which reminded Hermione of Ollivanders Wand shop, well they both sold the same things so they were bound to look similar.

The shop was very, how could she put it, flat? The whole shop front was wands displayed in just about every way that was possible. They were in boxes, on platforms, decorating statues and other forms, in the hands of figurines and models that moved and demonstrated wand movements. Wands were everywhere. And there was no door in sight.

"Um, where's the door?" Hermione questioned as she studied a rather detailed moving model of a phoenix being reborn and a feather being plucked.

"Ah, Granger sometimes I forget how smart you are," Draco laughed and lead her to a side entrance, which seemed to be an entrance to another street or part of the alleyway.

The door was a deep dark wood with a lion for a knocker and a sign above it read Neart on taobh istigh, in golden loopy font.

"That means 'strength from within' in Irish, I believe the owner didn't want to have a traditional name and went for something a little bit different."

"I went for something that was cultured and fittin' for the wands," a voice echoed from within the shop, "Look at you too there, happy out[2] just standing outside – that was sarcasm, now get in here!"

"We better do what he says," Draco smiled and went into the shop. When Hermione followed, she didn't hear the door jingle itself shut because of one simple reason; she was in awe. The outside of the shop revealed absolutely nothing for clues on what was inside but Merlin it was magnificent. There were high shelves filled with boxes and each shelf had a stand next to it, probably explaining what wands were displayed. There was a pulley system that ended in the exact middle of the shop, a donut shaped counter, and it started somewhere at the back that Hermione couldn't see. From what she understood, with a simple flick or incantation a wand from the back of the store would be called up for the wizard or witch to try. There was even a phoenix, feathers adorned in varying hues of blues and greens, napping on a perch near the desk.

"I'll never understand you tourists standing 'round in the fierce weather[3] just lookin' instead of just coming in."

"That's because we are all amazed at your stunning displays that we have to stand outside and look at them all day," Draco said near the desk as a man came out and hugged him. The man was broad and tall, towering over Draco easily, with a head of full, thick, black hair with a beard to match. The beard almost rivalled Dumbledore's in its splendour, tied in the middle and plaited down to his chest. Hermione could just see a tattoo slither up a bicep to hide within the confines of his shirt as he patted, or more likely thumped, Draco on his back. Strangely enough, Draco didn't seem strained about the hug and instead looked somewhat content. "Ah, Ardan[4] it's always a pleasure to see you again," Draco said once he was released. Ardan reminded Hermione slightly and fondly of Hagrid. At the memory of the half giant she was quick to swallow the pang of home sickness down deep into her stomach and focus on this new person.

"And how's the surly gentleman who you call family?" Ardan was clearly referring to Snape here and Hermione had to stop a smile at his description.

"Still surly," Draco laughed and moved quickly on, "Ardan, this is Hermione. She is a friend of mine who has unfortunately broken her wand and mine was somehow stolen so we require your services." He scratched the back of his neck at his cover up and then hastily put it back down.

Even if Ardan caught Draco's elusiveness he didn't comment on it and instead moved over to Hermione and picked up her hand before kissing it lightly. "It is nice to meet you Hermione and welcome to my humble abode…" He started but was briefly interrupted by Draco's quiet scoff at his words. "What were the qualities of your wand, the wood and the core if you will?"

"Ah, it was a ten and three quarter length, vine wood and dragon heartstring wand." Hermione was barely finished before Ardan was walking away and studying the shelves.

"I imagine that you got your wand from Garrick Ollivander?" He didn't even wait for a reply before talking once more, even though Hermione nodded. "Here we use a broader inventory of materials. Come, come and see what I mean," Hermione was curious to see what he meant and followed his enthusiastic ushers to one such high shelf. "This shelf here is dedicated to the Ash tree, which is one of the woods we use for the wands." He then pointed to a stand next to it:

The Ash tree - The ancient Irish believed the Ash tree had healing qualities and saw it as one of a trilogy of sacred trees, along with the Oak and the Hawthorn.

Hermione felt it was ironic that it mentioned a 'sacred trio' considering she was a third of the Golden Trio along with Harry and Ron, although how Ardan would've known that was a mystery.

"If you were to purchase one of these wands, they are excellent in their resilience and strength, which will certainly help with your breakage problem, and are quick to respond. They are typically used by magical folk who possess a strong and focused mind because of that trait. I would recommend stickin' to the dragon heartstring core, since that is the one that possess' the most powerful reactions as they say, but maybe with an additive? Possibly try a wand with salamander scales as well. Salamanders were known for their medicinal uses and elemental power of fire which will give the wand a bit of a kick. I will have a look for another wand that you can try but in the meantime have a look for those." Ardan then pointed to a ladder at the side of the shelf and ushered her to climb the shelves to look for the wands he had mentioned.

"Oh, and look for either a ten and three quarters or eleven inches length, I do love whole numbers." Ardan cheerily said. As soon as Hermione began to look for the wands and her attention was diverted, Ardan and Draco walked away. Hermione was used to climbing the tall ladders at Hogwarts library so this should be easy and so on that note she began her mission.

"Your wand was stolen, Draco?" Ardan asked as he picked up a box and put it on the desk for Hermione to try when she was done.

"Yes it was stolen Ardan, by someone who will get what's coming to him someday."

"I don't doubt that youngling. Now, what did you purchase at Ollivanders when you were eleven?"

"A ten inch hawthorn wood and unicorn hair core."

"Hawthorn, hawthorn the ancients believed it was bad luck to cut down a branch because it would disturb the fairies; however, in Britain they said it was associated with love." Ardan commented before pointing to another stand next to another shelf. "The Birch tree,"

The Birch tree - The Celts believed the Birch tree had the power to purify and also protect them from spirits and evil fairies.

"Birch wands are pliable and flexible, and when they're with a magical host they have protective streaks, which should help with the stealin' problem. I would recommend a length of ten inches like you have been but this time with a core of Kelpie hair. Kelpies are as you know the water demons which are unable to be drowned and pass on their traits of power and changeability onto the wand. Many other wand makers say it is inferior to other cores such as dragon heartstring yet it is just rare to come by. Kelpie hair cores are just as powerful as dragon heartstring yet the polar opposite of it; water to fire." Once Ardan was convinced that Draco was satisfied with his recommendation he summoned the box with a simple accio.

"Why didn't you do that for Hermione?"

"I think she would do a lot better searching for them herself, she seems like a curious girl that would love that activity."

Ardan wasn't wrong there.

At the desk they met Hermione who was just putting down two boxes and removing the sleek wands from their casings. Ardan nodded appreciatively and pointed to the box he had pulled out for her, instead of the red boxes Hermione had looked at, this was simply brown. "This one is made out of wood from the Hazel tree, this was considered to be sacred to our people and cuttin' one down was punishable by death. However, takin' some of it with the tree's approval was acceptable and it is a very rare wood which is associated with intelligence." He removed a simple wand out from the box; its handle was curved and sectioned into neat rectangles where intricate runes were written, but apart from that, the rest of it was smooth and normal. He then handed Hermione the wand who proceeded to test the weight of it in her palm, nothing would compare to her old wand but she had to try to act like she was trying out a wand for the first time.

God, she felt eleven again.

Seeing her hesitation Draco leaned against the desk, "When my Godfather took me here and he was trying out a wand, he told me that if I was ever going to buy a second wand different from my own I should try a more complicated spell. He told me that when I would buy a second wand, I would be a lot more experienced and my magical capabilities wouldn't be fit for the simple displays of magic. To really test if the wand you are holding is right, try a spell that requires your heart and soul; let them tell you if the wand is correct."

Hermione knew which spell she was going to use but as she was about to utter it the wand felt strange and wrong in her grip – she knew that it wasn't right. Placing the wand back in its box she ignored the raised eyebrows of the men in front of her and carried on. This time she picked up the Ash wand with the dragon heartstring and felt like it was too familiar to her old wand. When her wand had been snapped, she had mourned it and accepted that she would have to deal with being a witch without it; she knew that she would have to change. Purchasing a wand that felt so eerily similar to her old one was going back on that promise of change.

Because of this she also picked up the last wand and compared the two. The dragon heartstring on its own made for a rather plain wand, this time its handle was adorned with the texture of bark. While, the salamander scales additive wand was a bit more fancy (its handle was ridged with curving swirls and from tip to handle the normally smooth wood was decorated with perfect hexagons to mimic that of scales) and Hermione liked being just a little bit fancy. Adjusting her grip on both of the dark woods she focused and closed her eyes.

One grip went slack as she said, "Expecto Patronum," and she opened her eyes. An otter was swimming around the room but seemingly attached by a tether to the dragon heartstring and salamander scale wand.

"Well, I think you found your wand." Ardan was smiling and he packed the other two wands into their boxes and sent them back.

Hermione looked at the desk where only her new wand and one other remained. "You only picked one wand?" She asked of Draco.

"I trust Ardan's judgement," and without a further ado he picked up the Birch wand. Compared to his last wand, this new one was lighter both in colour and weight, and a lot fancier in terms of the handle. The handle was metal that darkened in hues as it progressed in length and was garnished with Celtic patterns, looping back on each other and joining with new ones. "Wingardium Leviosa," he pointed it at a quill on the desk and smiled in satisfaction as it rose steadily in the air, and then fell gracefully down like any feather would. This wand felt right. Just as right as his old wand did and he knew this because he could just feel it in his bones. His magic approved.

"As I always say when a customer goes happy with a wand; every wand is a one off, you get one wand and in turn the wand gets one host. I say host because from that point on, when the soul choses that wand for its entire life, the wand learns. It learns your personality, your quirks, your habits and it teaches you what it takes to be comfortable enough that it feels like an extension and not an extra piece."

"You're a man who has a way with words," Hermione uttered and then laughed as Ardan's cheeks were stained red in embarrassment.

Ardan then bustled about for holsters for the both of them, chattering all the way.

"My momma used to say that," he said as he took measurements and then disappeared again – probably to pick just the right holster. "This village began as a sanctuary for witches and wizards so the houses, hotels, bars and library were built first and evolved when time progressed. My humble abode wasn't established until much later when my Great, Great Grandfather first started it to sell herbal remedies and as a botanist. Popular demand made my Grandfather change it into a shop that manufactured and sold wands; although, my Grandfather still sold herbs and the like at the time. From then on it was passed on through the generations, the shop going to the first born of the family. That is how it fell into my hands! My sister runs the botanist here and my other sister works in the library."

"Why was it made into a sanctuary?"

"At the time, magical folks decided to go separate from other creatures and Muggles. This was due to some rivalries and upsets – when Muggles discover something unknown like magic they get frightened and then reckless. You can paint the picture from there," Hermione could see Ardan's grimace at his words as he bagged everything up. Draco slid his Gringotts bank card over the desk, and ignoring every word that Hermione was uttering about being able to pay for it herself, paid for the both of them.

"Why did you do that?" She muttered to Draco, she was very much capable of looking after herself and paying for herself but Draco had to pretentious.

"Because I can." He turned to Hermione and smirked as he handed her, her bag and wand. "It was lovely to see you again Ardan."

"The feeling is mutual. I hope you have a nice stay here and tell your Godfather that I hope he found what he was looking for." Ardan said shaking both Hermione's and Draco's hand.

Hermione was glad that she came here.

"And Draco?" Ardan shouted just as they were exiting and causing them to both turn. "Never change? I will yea[5]."

"You already know the answer to that," and with those words the two left the shop with smiles on their faces.

Draco wasn't much of a fan of exploring the wizarding village while Hermione was. This meant a lot of nags from Hermione and a lot of ignoring from Draco as he led her further down the alleyway. "There will time for that tomorrow," he sighed in reply to one such plead and then finally, "Do you not remember that we are essentially on the run? We have to keep a low profile."

Eventually they arrived at a hotel which was towering, reminding Hermione of a much sturdier Burrow, called the Nemeton. "A Nemeton is essentially a sacred grove for the ancient Celtics." Draco explained this as he led her inside the hotel, immediately going up to the desk. Hermione was quite enamoured with the huge tree growing in the centre of the complex but decided that now wasn't the time to be studying the building. Draco was cranky after all, he must be tired Hermione thought. "Hey there, my name is Daniel Mallory and I and my friend require a room with two separate rooms please," he was talking to the woman at the desk as he handed over his card and waited for the keys.

"Have a whale of a time dears!" The woman said as she them over. That was apparently all Draco wanted and he hurried to the elevator without waiting for Hermione to catch up.

The room, number 116 if she was being specific, was not that luxurious as Hermione would have expected from Draco. It was decorated in pastel colours with a simple living room, kitchen, bathroom and two separate bedrooms as Draco had asked for. Hermione took the time to sit down and relax while Draco immediately went for the room service.

"I thought you said that we had to keep a low profile," she commented as she saw him order a large whisky.

"That's what I'm doing," he said and caught Hermione's astonished look, "If I wasn't we would be staying in the pent house suite under my real name and have swans made out of towels on the beds."

"You don't do anything by halves that's to be sure."

"You've known me for the whole of your school life, how do you not know that by now?" Draco questioned as he flopped down on the opposite side of the couch.

"Because you were an arse the entire time." Hermione replied, getting up to take a shower to refresh.

When she returned, with a brush in hand trying to tame her wet mane of hair, Draco had the bottle of whisky and two half full glasses. He pushed one over to her, and upon her refusal said that she would need it and succumb to it eventually. Hermione decided that Draco was crazy to think that she would. However, Draco looked relaxed, the amber liquid of Irish whisky swishing around his glass methodically. They elapsed into silence, Hermione sitting there now with her journal in her lap and Draco with his head tipped back.

After studying her journal for a series of tense minutes Hermione decided to end her silence.

"Since you rescued me does that mean that you are working with the Order now?" She murmured although she was sure that Draco heard her, if his head snapping up was any sign.

Draco placed the glass onto the coffee table, clenched his hands and worked his jaw, "I was never working for them and I'm not now just because I have a conscience," he spat "I've never liked Potter for a myriad of reasons," Hermione tilted her head in silent encouragement for him to keep talking. Though, Draco knew that she would never agree with his assessment of her best friend he went for it.

"He always got so much attention, and I know what you must be thinking but it's not that, it was almost as if he was the only life that was affected by the Dark Lord. People worshipped him for something he did as a child, something that many others do every single day – fight for freedom from the Dark Lord. He isn't the only one who stood against the Dark Lord and – "

Hermione sat silently and patiently, her eyes following the now pacing boy in front of her. Draco had decided that being still wasn't enough and instead tried to wear his frustration into the carpet. He swallowed nervously and tugged at his usually perfect hair. He didn't know why he was telling Hermione this, he expected her to jump up and defend Potter or tell him off with her text book knowledge or something. Draco breathed and started once more "Who stood against the Dark Lord and knew that a killing curse was on his tongue. I'm not jealous of Potter's fame or popularity though. I wish that I was fighting like he was. To know where I stood in the war and what I should be doing, everything would be so much simpler than growing up in the hell that I did. Sometimes, it seems that Potter thinks he's the only one that knows the term suffering."

"I can - that glare doesn't intimidate me Draco – I can understand why you would think that… but Harry really isn't like that at all." Hermione tried to explain "Harry always hated the attention he got and ever since he arrived at Hogwarts he thinks that he has the world on his shoulders, but in a way he does. There is a prophecy that dictates his every move, he is the only one that can defeat You know who and that is a lot of pressure to bear," She shushed Draco once he tried to get a word in and ignored the expletives that flew from his mouth "In a way the attention was a god send for him at Hogwarts because he never got anything besides hell at home; however, too much attention turned out to be another thing all together. You and Harry have a lot more in common than you would think,"

"I am so not like Potter," Draco was quick to say indignantly, "I don't care what he wanted or what guilt he carries with him. He needs to get off his high fucking hippogriff and see the war from the dirtier angle, honestly he needs to wake up and smell the fucking roses. Not everybody was born on the right side." Draco was now settled by the window and was clutching the sill so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "I'm not good Hermione, not like Potter or Weasley, I'm Draco the boy who learned things the hard way and was not afraid to throw the first punch or spell."

"Everybody can be saved; even from the darkest depths,"

"You can stop trying to save me; I don't want to be saved especially not be you,"

"How can you say that?"

Hermione thought that this was getting tense enough and instead picked up her whisky. She guessed that Draco was right after all. Swigging it back, it was like fire that roared down her thought and settled in her stomach like solidified flames. It made her feel warm and tingly. As soon as she set the glass back down once more, she stood and felt the fire calm.

Draco was still ranting "I don't matter! Harry doesn't care about what happens to my mother, or Snape, all he worries about is himself and his friends and nobody else. I mean that incident in sixth year would've proved that – "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the incident where he tried to and almost killed me," Draco said harshly and shrugged out of his shirt, the Slytherin was confident about his body yet after the incident he was more impartial to flashing his skin to everybody. Hermione was shocked at the swirling, silver lines that crisscrossed his torso, spiralling up his upper arms and down his back too. She was on her feet now, shortening the distance between them and holding out a hand to touch his back. The boy shivered at her curious touch on his skin as she traced the unusual scars and within a moment he shrugged her off and put on his shirt. "I have to live with those for the rest of my life and does Potter care? No, he doesn't,"

"Harry does care – " she tried to placate his rage and despite her efforts it got the opposite of the desired effect.

"You can't say anything! You're biased. You've been on Harry's side from the beginning, listening him to his spiteful and petty arguments and opinions. You're blind, don't you see that?" Draco had turned, waving his hands about frantically.

"You have no idea what I've gone through with them. You have no idea what it's like!"

"No idea what it's like? I know exactly what it's about, popularity and cries for attention. A normal girl wanting to be different like in Muggle stories."

That got Hermione angry and before she knew it she was striding up to him and poking him hard in the chest. "I'm shocked that you know what Muggle stories are to be frank! How dare you think of me as so two dimensional? You don't know how I've had to wipe my parent's memories of me and ship them off to another country just so they don't get hurt. You don't know how much I'm in turmoil at having made my choice in staying behind to be tortured while my only friends go out, and can possibly be killed at any moment. You don't know anything!" She was shoving him towards the end of the room, anger like a monster inside of her roaring and spilling out the ugly truth. "And me, how about you? An arrogant and selfish boy who thinks that sleeping with every Slytherin girl in Hogwarts will gain him his popularity. A boy who puts himself first in every situation and cares not for the consequences. A boy who lies and manipulates and is just jealous that Harry didn't accept your friendship in first year! That is why you hate him and not for any other reason. You hate me because I get better grades than you yet you belittle me for that fact. You are nothing but a hypocrite Draco Malfoy and you are nothing – "

"This isn't a damn Muggle story, Granger!"

Those were his last words before he slammed the door on his way out.

Overcome with fury Hermione picked up her left behind glass, still a quarter full of Irish whisky, and flung it at the door. All the while the words "Fuck you!" clung to her lips and left in a reeling tandem. The glass instantly shattered on impact, an acute attack in tender places the glass was left in slabs of crystal. The left over whisky, an amber liquid, staining the white wood of the door and decorated it with lightning strike patterns.

She stomped over to the window seat and picked up her journal from the table. "We'll make this a story huh?" To ease her anger and annoyance she picked a blank page and wrote at the top 'Draco Malfoy', in cursive and underlined thrice.

"Once upon a time…" she murmured.

"… You are nothing…"

Those words echoed inside of Draco's head over and over again. There was part of his brain that assured him that Hermione was just going to carry on that sentence and that it wouldn't end with those blasted words. But the majority of him told that part of his brain to piss off. Draco's anger had dissolved as soon as he got out of the hotel and began walking with quick steps down the alleyway. All that was left inside of him was emptiness and Draco didn't know what to do.

He didn't want to feel empty. He hated the feeling. He felt numb and cold and desperate. Desperation had a rather peculiar way of working. It blinded and deceived, convinced him that all logical reasoning meant nothing. It caused pain to rip at his skin, anxiety to clog his throat, and terror to lodge itself in his heart. It is the worst kind of infliction, like an illness with the only cure being escape. Desperate people are the most dangerous people; they will do anything necessary to get what they want. Draco didn't want to be that dangerous. He hated that feeling of not being able to control himself.

To get rid of this awfulness, he found himself at the exact same place he had been when he was nine; when his Godfather had brought him here for the first time. He found himself at the very back end of the alleyway where a hole had been made in the defences on the roof and a torrent of seawater cascaded down in a waterfall. It went down and down into a hole in the floor, no one actually knew where it ended. There was also a walkway behind the waterfall where a lone park bench sat. Draco found himself sitting on that cold bench and drinking in the smell of sea salt.

He remembers his first visit so clearly because it was a time when the Malfoy family truly broke apart for the first time.

Rosalyn Malfoy died before she got a chance to life. She was Draco's baby sister having been born on the 9th August 1989. But little Rosalyn was born still and lifeless, never once crying or opening her eyes. Draco still remembers his mother's cries and screams of agony over her death. Still pictures the way his father must have held her and his dead baby girl, and caressed the fair hair on top of the baby's head. He remembers his Grand-mere trying to distract him with books. He remembers his own cries over the inked pages. He remembers his father's subsequent rage when his mother fell asleep that night, the sound of glass smashing echoing in his ears. He remembers his Godfather coming in to relieve his Grand-mere.

Severus remembers looking at the sullen boy and then packing his clothes as wet steel eyes watched him. He remembered saying "Let's go on an adventure," and then Portkeying to Ireland. He remembers how his godchild broke apart in his arms once they arrived and the swift song he sang in order to get into the village. It was a relief that Draco stopped sobbing and screaming, quietened by his Godfather's singing voice. Severus remembers picking Draco up and nearly running to the waterfall. They had both sat down on the park bench behind the water and in silence Snape tried to find the words apt enough to describe the horror of that night.

"Your sister has… went with the angels in – " Severus winced at his poor choice of phrasing.

"Why did she die?" That question in the nine year old innocent voice broke Severus's heart. He knew that Narcissa thought that it was her body that was the cause, that it was wrong and her fault. He knew that Lucius thought it was his fault. Personally, he thought it was just fate screwing them all over, but he couldn't tell a child that.

"When you're in the garden what flowers do you pick?" Severus thought that this was the best way to go about a grieving child; distract them and try to appease their questions.

Draco looked puzzled at this question but answered anyway, "The most beautiful ones."

"Then there you have your answer."

They sat there for some time before Draco grew bored and asked his Godfather to take him on his promised 'adventure'.

Severus took him to Neart on taobh istigh, he had been friends with the family for numerous years and was one benefit of his father. Severus took the time to thank Satan for housing his abusive father and then moved swiftly on to more positive thoughts. He knew that Ardan would cheer the kid up with his approachable attitude and high spirt.

As soon as they entered they were met with a boisterous greeting, "Ah, Severus Snape we meet again old friend." Ardan had hugged him fiercely just like all of his family had the tendency to do, and thumped him on the back harshly but friendly. "And who is this youngling?" He gestured to Draco who was now half hiding behind Severus's legs acting shy. Severus knew that it was because of Ardan's large and broad figure and knew that Draco would think him to be a giant.

"This is Draco Malfoy, my godchild." Severus said stepping to the side to force Draco into sight.

Ardan leant down so he was level with the child and asked "How old are you youngling?" But instead of answering, Draco just held up 9 fingers, it was lucky he wasn't double figures just yet and then waved to Ardan. "You are 9, you are practically an old man!" Ardan laughed and straightened.

Severus looked down at Draco and said, "Ardan here makes wands. And although you won't purchase one here now or when you are eleven this is the perfect shop to buy a second one if need be."

"How do you know him?" Draco asked with his curious mind, but at least it was distracted from the matter they came here to avoid.

"When I was fresh out of Hogwarts, my mother brought me to Ireland as a gift for graduation. When she went shopping I choose to come down here to explore the magical side of the country. Ardan's family took me in after someone stole my belongings; luckily they located them and got them back to me. Of course, they did this after feeding me dinner and welcoming me into their home. It also turns out that my father struck business with them on a few occasions, and told them about me and my mother. I will be for ever grateful to them and over the years they have become great friends of mine."

"Like you and father?"

"Yes, Draco."

"Now, what are you looking for in my humble abode?" Ardan questioned this as he led them over to the desk.

Severus leaned over the desk to whisper to his old friend. "The kid just lost his sister, I need to distract him." He was glad of the confidentiality the whisper provided and Ardan nodded his approval. After making sure that Draco didn't hear his aforementioned words Severus carried on; "I'm looking for a wand,"

For the next hour they entertained Draco with the knowledge of wands and jokes on the behalf of Ardan. Severus remembered telling Draco, when he had demonstrated trying out a wand, "This is what you will do in two years when you go off to Hogwarts," Draco looked in awe at the displays of magic and he was content to watch his Godfather mess about for once. "But if you purchase a second wand, this will be far in the future though I can assure you, try a more complicated spell to test whether or not it is right for you. By this time you will be a lot more experienced so your capabilities won't fit the standard and simple. To really test it you have to try a spell that requires your heart and soul; they are the best deciders you know."

Sometime later, when Draco was happy playing with Aithusa[6] the phoenix by the desk, Arden leaned towards Severus "What are you really looking for?" Severus knew that his old friend knew him inside out. It took some time to answer that question and some soul searching on Severus' part but he finally located it.

"Peace. I just want to have some peace."

Draco remembers leaving Clochan an Dragon for the first time with a smile on his face. Remembered going back to Malfoy Manor, to where a rather gaunt looking Narcissa and a sad Lucius was waiting, and filling them with happy tales of his time there. He remembers watching his mother smile at his re-enactments of what his Godfather was doing with a wand. He remembers his Godfather himself promising him that they would go on many more adventures together, after all there were many places that Severus had seen and Draco had not. He remembers calling his Godfather 'the traveller' and then all of them laughing in merriment.

He remembers Severus telling his parents that night that Draco was alright, that he had been distracted from the death, almost to the point of forgetting it all together.

But the fact was that he could never forget Rosalyn Malfoy.

When Draco returns from his memories and from the waterfall he finds Hermione asleep in her room. Her covers drawn so tightly over her that only a part of her face was visible, and a bottle of whisky and her journal on the bedside table. She looked relaxed and nothing like the anger he had saw before.

"You don't know how worried I am, about my mother, my father is a heartless coward that has a lot of growing up to do too. Potter won't show my mother a reprieve, she will be thrown into Azkaban with Bella, who might've tortured her already," Draco whispered, he was glad that Hermione couldn't hear this. He heaved a massive sigh and worried. Hermione turned as if noticing his distress and yet Draco ignored it. He then removed himself from her room and tried to answer the call of sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes he would remember himself, slightly older than when his sister had died, and finding the box that held a lock of fair hair, photos and wishes for her wellbeing in Heaven. He knew that his mother sometimes took it out and cried over it. He knew that his father never did.

He remembers that he fell asleep sometime when the darkest hour graced Ireland.

[1] The song that Draco sings is called 'The Ballyeamon Cradle Song' and is a Irish lullaby with the words grah mo chree meaning "sweetheart" in Gaelic.

[2] This just means happy in Irish but for some reason they stick the word 'out' on the end.

[3] In Ireland all weather is fierce; it can be fierce cold, fierce dry etc. Fun fact a dead day or 'fierce dead' means humid weather that makes you sleepy.

[4] Ardan is an Irish male name which means 'high aspiration' which is fitting for Ardan's family history and personality.

[5] "I will yea" means "I definitely won't," and is apparently the easier way of saying it. I think the Irish are big on their sarcasm which is confusing but good at the same time.

[6] This is a reference to Merlin where Aithusa is a dragon featuring in season 4 and 5.