chapter 6
Assumptions
"Animals?" She questioned in disbelief.
All around them were animals in enchanted cages. One entire wall was compromised of cats. They swatted at charmed toy mice. Some laid under a light in peaceful slumber.
There were owls that hooted for attention so loudly she wished she'd brought treats.
A few toads croaked and hopped over slippery rocks in their enclosure and rats raced through the whole room in their colored tubes that interlaced the other animal cages except one that was below their feet.
She yelped in surprise.
Draco snickered. "Don't tell me the mighty lion is scared of a few snakes."
"I'm not," she gasped. "Just don't care to have the floor fall out from under me."
The floor stared into the den where snakes of all colors entwined together. Rusty orange, neon green and fire red all muddled for warmth under a pale light. There were small rivers that cut through the entire floor where some snakes slithered to and fro. Another den rested at the end of the room.
It gave her the creeps to step over such treachery. She avoided the snakes as best she could.
"What are we here for, Draco?" She asked, hugging her arms around herself.
"I find the answer quite obvious," he stated.
She sighed. "An animal, clearly. I just don't understand why I'm here."
"You go where I go, as per the agreement."
"I didn't agree to be a part of the black market. This place is illegal. If the Ministry even finds out we're here…"
Sweat started to pour from her now. The Ministry would oblivivate her if she got into trouble. A muggleborn only had so many chances in the world. One mistake could send her back without memory of her friends, the wizarding world, all she'd learned.
"Relax, pet. We won't be caught," he said.
"That means nothing to me! You've had it out for me for years. You would have thrown me into the Chamber of Secrets if you could have and now, I'm supposed to just trust your word like we aren't mortal enemies?"
"Yes."
At least he didn't deny the truth. That would have panicked her more.
"Why?" She breathed. "Why can I trust you now?"
He stood, hand in pocket, not bothered. His eyes remained on her as they had since entering the room. Collected. Cool. There was not an ounce of interest in the animals around him.
Draco stepped closer. The tips of his shoes touched hers. Those gray eyes a focus in her mind.
"Because, Granger." His voice entered as a soft murmur. It was light and airy. For a moment she felt warmed by the gentle caress of them. "I do not want that anymore."
The man, Lafont, entered the room, face shadowed by the overhang of his hood. Draco stepped away. His attention returned to Lafont whom stood in front of the cat cages, wand lifting the spell over their little eyes so that they now took notice of the wizards in their midst.
A chorus of meowing started. Paws swatted outside the bars toward Hermione.
"Smartest batch I've had. All of them are able to pick the locks if left like this." He gestured to the rather Muggle looking locks at the cage doors. "These things will do the job nicely."
Draco nodded. "Are all the animals capable?"
"Yes, sir. But cats are the best bet inside the castle. They move the fastest. Owls are much slower with obstacles, frogs, too. The snakes might do better, but they'll be noticed on the staircases," Lafont explained. "Were you interested in something other than a cat?"
Then he turned back to her, a quirked brow. "Well?"
Needless to say, she was surprised.
"What? Me?"
"We need a way to communicate inside Hogwarts. I can't very well enter the tower now can I? Same for you in the dungeons. Hm." He held his chin. "I'd prefer a serpent, but I suppose those Gryffindors would rather you have a cat, wouldn't they?" Draco examined a few meowing cats closely. One reached bared claws out at this hair, batting the long strands every which way. He retracted with his hands running through the tousled style. "Beasts."
The brown cat was fluffy with wild orange eyes. It flicked its tail back and forth as it eyed Draco closely. She tried her luck. Hermione wiggled a single finger between the bars. The cat sniffed her gently before giving it a good lick.
She bit back a smile. "I like this one."
"Not that one," he growled.
"Why not?" Her hands flew to her hips. "It's going to be mine, isn't it?"
"Ours," he corrected sharply. "It has to like me, too. Lest the point be moot. An enchanted cat that doesn't like me will hardly carry my messages."
Enchanted. No wonder the man took such precautions. Enchanted animals were highly regulated by the Ministry. Animals of higher intelligences made wizards nervous, especially ones that had secrets to keep.
Cats and snakes and frogs were able to spy easily. They were beyond normal intelligence, able to escape obstacles and struggles, while communicating with people rather effectively. Some thought they were animagi, but that was an incorrect assumption. They were animals. Not people disguised as animals.
She'd been enthralled with the idea of an enchanted familiar. A true familiar.
Crookshanks was close to being one until her mother accidently ran over him during holiday. It'd been devastating to lose such a part of her wizarding life in the muggle half of it. There was no one who took a share in the pain of it. Most muggles replaced pets so easily. They didn't understand the bond a familiar takes with their owner. A mutual soul sharing. It was deeply intense and impacted one another.
Though she hated to admit it, but she did want one. Something Malfoy could not learn.
She crossed her arms and followed him down the line as he searched through the enchanted animals with a metaphorical fine-tooth comb until his eyes landed on something that pleased his eye.
It was a short haired, brilliant white cat with two sharp blue eyes. It sat still. The two eyes were the only part of it that moved as they approached the cage.
"That one is a bit odd," the man called out behind them. "He is quite calm. Never paces like the others. But with your back turned, he gets the most of his work done. One you've got to watch out for. He's escaped five times, that one."
The news pleased Draco. He smiled, impressed with the intellect. Hermione, too, had to admit that she was impressed no matter how eerie the cat was.
"He's perfect," he said suddenly.
She snorted. "Perfect? Why is yours perfect but the one I picked unacceptable?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
He glared. "Because I said so."
There it was again. The overbearing, self-important Malfoy that she knew and the ugly sneer that came along with it. She wanted to smack it. Really hard.
Her fist balled as he debated over a ridiculous price for the pet. Enchanted or not.
Hermione couldn't stand it. He didn't even look at her as he spoke with the man. All his focus stayed on the man and the bloody cat he wanted.
"I don't want it," she finally said after a few tense moments of fuming. His power over her was not settled. She needed to fight against it. It was too easy on him. There had to be more fights. Soon enough he'd grow tired of it and release her from the stupid agreement.
"We need one."
Her vision narrowed to slits. "I want the brown cat."
"It doesn't like me," he spat. "I'll not buy an infernal beast that doesn't like me all to appease your ego, Granger."
Ego? Ego. Really. Of all the egos in the world, his was the most demanding!
She really didn't think about what she was doing. Anger overtook the reigns. It steered with big stomping feet back up the dark staircase, now less threatening than before, through the creepy cottage where she stunned the reaching vines of the plants and out back toward Hogsmeade.
Real things demanded her time.
Harry. Her friends. The meeting. All of it was more important. The Order needed them at top fighting shape. Why was she amusing herself with Draco? He was less concerning than a bad case of dragon pox.
It took many minutes, but the rage faded once her mind caught wind of what should take place at the meeting. A secret meeting to form a forbidden study group. There should be precautions. Rules.
She formed the list in her mind by the time she caught sight of Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade, leaving Honeydukes. They sported a few lollies. Nothing spectacular as they used to in their younger days.
They looked in a better mood than breakfast, too. Thank Merlin for it. Another foul mood was the last thing she needed right now.
Lucky the meeting went well. As best as it could have, she supposed. There were members to their group now. Confirmed. They all signed a list that bound them to the secret of not telling anyone else of what they were doing. Harry was thrilled by the end of it.
She assumed it was because his confidence was boosted by the meeting, only until she noticed Cho Chang and the way he perked up when the Ravenclaw caught his eye. Hermione felt relieved. A bit of joy was good for him. He needed it. After all he'd gone through, a girlfriend might bring it all around.
Cho was Cedric Diggory's girlfriend. She grieved his loss every day since the Tri-Wizard tournament. So did Harry. Together they might overcome their grief.
It had to be explained to Ron who was still under the impression that Harry was for Ginny. That awkward explanation of Ginny dating Michael was left up to her since Harry was lost in his own blissful daydream and clearly it needed to be said. She didn't want Ron getting in a huff for nothing.
"Dating?" Ron was shocked. "For how long? How come nobody told me?"
"Your sister does not have to report her personal life to you, Ronald."
Ron groaned. "She could at least tell me before you."
"For your information, she's liked Michael since last term," Hermione said. "She didn't want to tell you because of how you'd react. Look at your face. It's gone all red. You can't just bully her boyfriend because you're her older brother. She can make her own choices."
He huffed and groaned about it all the way back to the castle. Nobody listened.
Harry was too happy to care. His thoughts were all lost in Cho to hear anyone.
The group split once they got back. Harry had Quidditch practice. He had to make up for all the ones he missed during detention. That meant Ron would sneak off for a few games of Wizards Chess in the common room. They got quite competitive. Some of the boys placed bets on the games.
Not when she was around. A Prefect was expected to curb out such practices within the houses. It was a job she took seriously.
She headed down to the library to complete some assignments since her week of patrol started that night. It lasted Saturday to Saturday. Prefects patrolled the halls and corridors to ensure no students were out after curfew. Typically Heads of House, Filch, and the same house Prefects patrolled; the house prefects filtered through on a weekly basis.
Hannah had fallen sick during Hufflepuffs week of patrol, so Ron patrolled with Ernie. He didn't want to pull a double shift, and Hannah was still ill, so Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw patrolled with Hermione on Gryffindors rotation.
It was all a mess.
She was due to patrol this week, but with whom, she couldn't remember. Everyone else switched their shifts to suit their needs. Except her.
Responsibility was not something to be juggled when inconvenient. Prefect was an important duty. It was meant to be taken seriously. Being a role model to the younger years and assisting around the castle were only a few of the ways they were useful.
Hermione worked through lunch on her week's assignments. There was so much reading she wanted done in preparation. It took for a few more hours to tackle it all.
She'd just about finished her last potion parchment when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure stalking close. It was adorned in all black. Clearly only one dressed for a funeral 24/7.
"You have a lot of nerve, you know."
A voice answered, but not from the right person. "Haven't given in, have you?"
Her heart throbbed twice as hard when Terrence Higgs slid into the seat next to hers. His ocean fresh scent greeted her like an old friend. It took a great concentration for her eyes not to roll back.
"Sorry, I thought you were, well, somebody else." She blushed.
"Malfoy, right?"
Terrence swept black locks into a low knot at the base of his skull. Then came those enchanting eyes. They singled in on her and she felt a flutter in her belly.
She quickly blushed and looked back down at her book. "Oh, uh, no, actually."
Godric Gryffindor. He had silver rings in his ears. How hadn't she noticed them before?
Well, she'd been distracted by the hair. And his body, which was thick with muscles. He was a strong Quidditch player. She saw him on the pitch before. If Malfoy was able to be toned and still slender as a stick, Higgs was bound to be packed with firm muscle. He looked it.
There was a difference in his appearance. He shaved off his facial hair. It had made him look so mature, distinguished from the other wizards. However, the naked face result was just as pleasant. He was very attractive. Rugged.
For some reason it reminded her of Krum.
"Right. He isn't one with much nerve is he?" Higgs grinned.
She relaxed her shoulders and smiled a bit. "Fine. It was him who I expected since no one else shares a love of the macabre like he does."
"You call this macabre?"
"Everything's black," she pointed out.
He shrugged. "I prefer muted tones. That makes me at the very least, boring. Not like that prat, Malfoy, whose more – what's the word for it? Oh yes. – theatrical. He loves a grand entrance. Like Dracula."
She bit back a fit of giggles at the thought of Draco Malfoy being Dracula then grew horrified at how similar they were.
Her face must have read the revelation because Terrence started to laugh, too. It eased her conscious as she giggled. It was not because he was funny; she didn't want him to feel bad. It was a pity laugh. A few for good measure.
She shook her head as she turned back to her work and said, "Dracula. Perhaps he's some distant relation."
"You never know with them Malfoy's. They've got loads of secrets buried in their vaults."
It was off hand enough. Everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy was a man of many reaches. Those came with secrets.
Something about it made her bristle.
"I hear it is a Slytherin thing," she stated, eyes stared intently at the work in front of her.
"There are different kind of Slytherins." His face turned serious in an instant. The cheerful tone of his voice vanished under way.
That brought her attention back to his eyes. "And what kind are you, Higgs?"
He smirked. "Call me Terry."
She sighed. "What kind of Slytherin are you, Terry?"
"Not one of the ones you have to worry about."
It was wrong to punish an entire quarter of wizarding England for the works of a few that soiled their house's name. More than that, it was the same as the assumption about muggleborns. Purebloods hated muggleborns for their existence, and the rest of the country assumed that they all hated each other the same which left a number of the students targeted by unfairness.
Draco was the maker of troubles for her. Ever since she stepped into Hogwarts, he made her life hell.
The same had to be said for wizards and witches like Higgs, whom were not bullies or purists, just rather similar in other ways.
"I'll keep that in mind, Terry. Thanks." She smiled gently.
A little while later whilst the two of them were in quiet study of their textbooks, a Ravenclaw student approached. It was Pavarti Patil's, a Gryffindor dorm mate of hers, twin sister, Padma. Padma was the other Ravenclaw prefect.
She gave a small wave. "Hi Hermione. Just thought I'd let you know you'll be patrolling with me tonight."
The way Padma looked at Terry made Hermione feel a bit uncomfortable. She introduced the pair. Terry extended his hand in a handshake, which Padma did accept, albeit not out of want but rather expectation.
"Meet you by the fourth-floor loo," she said.
There was full intention to respond on Hermione's part, but just as she formed a reply, Padma walked off without another word. It made things quite uncomfortable at the table. Terry was kind enough. He hadn't done a thing wrong.
Padma's manners were unrefined. She formed a speech for the ignorant witch as she scribbled her notes with such a fury that the quill end snapped.
Terrence noticed. He just shook his head.
"It does not matter."
She felt an urge to suddenly snap.
"It isn't right for them to treat you that way," she fumed. "Why, it's no better than how Malfoy and Pansy treat everyone else. Hasn't anyone got manners better than that?"
"You do," he said.
"That's the problem. It is only I who see it that way. Even my own friends think it is right to judge people on assumption." She muttered repair spell to mend the broken tip. "Mite hard work to do alone."
He shrugged. "One of my best friends was a Hufflepuff. He said the same thing."
Was. Past tense. Not anymore.
There was only Hufflepuff no longer one.
"Oh." She frowned. "I'm sorry. I – I – I didn't know that Cedric was…your friend."
"Our paths crossed a lot. Quidditch. Class. We became prefects together our fifth year. Did everything together, we did," Terrence said sadly. His eyes looked lost within a memory.
Her heart hurt so much. That look plagued her thoughts. She knew Harry had that very same look as he recalled the Tri-Wizard tournament, the only time he'd been close to Cedric Diggory before his death.
His hand rested against the table. She reached out to touch it gently, but he jerked away. It startled her.
"I'm sorry. I just was going to say how sorry I am for your loss," she explained. "I didn't mean to scare you."
He chuckled harshly as he placed his hand back in its place upon his bouncing knee. "Bad habit, I suppose. We Slytherins can't trust too many in this school. The older ones are alright, but you younger years are something else. Got a score to settle with the world so you take it out on us."
"You don't really think us so blind, do you?"
"I know Malfoy is king tosser of all tossers, but he isn't the whole house. Some of us aren't all bad." He was serious, entirely. The features of his faces were lost to the weight of his words, sloped and hurt. It was very different from the rage that the fifth year Slytherins gave. "I consider myself a happy person. I'm not giddy at day long like an idiot, but I don't lurk in shadows and plot my enemies' deaths. We're all just people same as you guys are. Yeah, we're a bit different. We have some bad wizards. We are more apt to dark magic. We are stilted, withdrawn, traditional. But that doesn't make us bad."
She hadn't considered that line of perspective before. Slytherins were a bad house. It was common knowledge between the other three houses, even Slytherin itself seemed to love its reputation, unbothered by their affiliation.
Malfoy flaunted his pureblood status. He never spared the 'M' word if he could help it.
Another one was Blaise Zabini. He flat out refused to communicate with a muggleborn. He once earned himself a zero in daily performance for being partnered with a half-breed witch from Ravenclaw, Lisa Turpin.
Her little experience with older Slytherin students other than those on the Quidditch pitch who were ruthless in their conquest made her question just how far she judged the entire house on the sole acts of a few.
It was not flattering. A narrow mind led to narrow thinking. That was something she prided herself on not using. She explored all waves of thought when it came to her education and personal life. Tradition was no excuse for things. Being a good person meant a change in many things that were done without thought that often disenfranchised others.
'Never judge a book by its cover' was her entire life's motto. She'd meant it literally, but it worked in the figurative sense as well.
Some time later Terrence left. He was meeting his cousin in Hogsmeade to buy her some things that she already lost. It made him light up to talk about her. Hermione felt her attraction grow to him tenfold.
She said goodbye as indifferent as she could manage to save what little pride she had and sat in the library for a while longer until it turned dreary and lonely.
Her Saturday was quite a mess. What a great way to start her patrolling shift. Instead of getting enough sleep, she would be catching students out of bed after hours and escorting them back to their houses for points deductions.
Plus, the fact she had to spend it with Padma after how she treated Terry. It'd be a wonder if it didn't end up in a verbal altercation. It was not difficult to imagine with the way she still boiled when Malfoy entered her mind.
Bloody prat!
Hermione headed off toward Gryffindor Tower. It was not her sanctuary, but at least Ron was there. He had a knack to make her laugh. And become even more frustrated…
It was a gamble she was willing to take. She needed her friend.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," she whispered to the Fat Lady portrait.
The entrance to the tower was on a landing in the enchanted staircases. It was the portrait of a woman, rather large, donned in a pink silk dress that rolled onto the ground obscuring her feet below. A classical scene was depicted behind her. It was very roman, perhaps Grecian.
The Fat Lady sipped from the brim of a wine glass. She giggled annoyingly as Hermione passed through the hole into the common room.
Gryffindor Common Room was a warm place. A fire always blazed into the mighty lion's den, ready to cure a chill from the drafty towers where the dormitories were located. She loved the smell when she entered. A hot steamy cloud of something. Home.
Tension fell away in an instant.
For a moment, she forgot why she avoided the common room this term. Seamus Finnigan mumbled something when he spied her. She chose to ignore him. The stupid Irish wizard was the least of her problems.
In a corner of the room was Ron in front of a chess board with Neville who looking rather sweaty.
Neville Longbottom was a nervous wizard by nature. He jumped at just about everything. Out of a crowd you'd never expect him to be scared of much with his size, towering over her head a few times over, but he was just that: a gentle giant. Much like Hagrid. She touched his shoulder before she spoke.
"Hello Neville." She smiled.
He looked over his shoulder. "G'day Hermione."
"Hey Mione." Ron didn't bother to raise his eyes from the board. Wizards chess was his thing. A skill that required much attention and practice by the way Ron spent his time. Much less could be said for his schoolwork. "Seen Harry?"
She froze. "No. Have you?"
"Nope."
"Knight to B5," Neville croaked. He swept his bangs aside to watch the piece move across the board.
"Queen to B5." He didn't look guilty in the least bit to watch Neville piece be smashed to smithereens. His queen trashed the horse until the dust was swept from the board before she sat into her throne once more, proudly.
Hermione was not a fan of wizards chess. She'd played Ron once, and lost. It was not an experience she wanted to repeat.
"Don't you think you should go look for him instead of playing a game?" She asked Ron.
He had yet to look up from the board. "I feel like a nutter following him all around. I reckon he's getting sick of me doing it. He gave me the slip just yesterday. Thought he'd tear my head off."
"But what if he gets himself into trouble?"
Ron and she spoke of it extensively. That's why she thought they both agreed that he needed to be looked after until he got right again.
Apparently, the plan had sometime changed without her notification.
"I'd suspect he'd be back to his old self again," Ron snickered as he ordered yet another piece to overtake Neville's.
Neville swallowed. "Blimey. You've got half my pieces already."
"But Ron -."
"He's fine, Hermione. You saw him. Let the man breathe a bit."
Fine.
It could be said that Harry did deserve a little room to be alone. She did not agree with it, but if Ron felt it was right, then she had to trust that he understood boy logic better than her since the logic was not much like regular logic.
She set about to wait for him. One of the tables of the common room was claimed for all her studies. All her books, assignments, tables and charts laid out over the wood. It helped her thoughts flow organically with everything within reach so that she might function more efficiently.
Gryffindors flowed in and out of the common room all day. One guy stopped when he entered. She leapt up, thinking it might be Harry, but it was just an older year. Cormac something. The blonde was known for being apart of a powerful family, just as much as the Malfoy's within the Ministry, though she doubted he was nearly as rich. He seemed the type to flaunt such a wealth had he had it. She settled back down. She'd just turned back to her work when she looked up absently and saw him wink.
What was with these wizards?
She worked into late afternoon lost in her studies until Ron finished his chess game with a newfound desire to bother her now that she'd finally gotten into the groove of things. He liked to talk. A lot.
It would be just as her quill touched parchment when his mouth opened with some kind of statement that warranted a response whether it was to correct it or bask in disbelief.
"You're awful testy," he commented ten minutes into the exchange. "Thought you'd be in a better mood."
"Why exactly?"
Her life was a mess. She couldn't think straight. People followed her all day long.
Voldemort was risen. Harry was losing his mind in slow torture and Dumbledore no longer could protect them from the hands of the Ministry.
Oh! Of course, there was the reality of dealing with Malfoy on a daily basis.
"The meeting went well. Harry's all cheered up. Just thought it meant you'd relax a little." Ron shrugged.
The lax attitude he took to the situation bothered her. She exhaled out her nose to keep her mouth from running ten miles an hour on just how treacherous times were. The blank expression on his face made her mind up. He would never retain any of it.
She continued on her work, interrupted every few minutes by an observation out his mouth, eager to rid herself of his bothersome company if for a minute when the head of house stepped in through the portrait hole, heaving the students into full attention.
Professor McGonagall wore flowing velvet robes. Little spectacles balanced delicately atop her nose. She had long grey curls that were kept back in a taut swirl. Often times she preferred a hat to a bare head.
She was a stern witch. A by-the-book professor. Hermione adored her. The professor was everything she hoped to be as a muggleborn witch.
Hermione pinched the slouching Ron to full attention when the professor stepped inside.
"Miss Granger, I understand it is Gryffindor's week for hall patrol," the firm voice said.
She nodded. "Yes, professor."
It was formal but endearing, the way Professor McGonagall spoke.
"I expect your other responsibilities will be tended to before then," McGonagall stated as she adjusted the rim-less pieces of glasses off her nose. "I admit it is a handsome specimen, but Prefect duties cannot be neglected."
Hermione twisted her face in confusion. "Specimen, professor?"
The elderly witch looked at her companion. "Didn't Mister Weasley tell you? You had a delivery up from Hogsmeade today. Quarter til noon, I'd say."
A pained look crossed Ron's face. He gave a look of apology.
"I forgot. You got a package from Hogsmeade."
"Thank you, Ronald. I've heard," she said flatly.
She hadn't ordered anything. Not from Hogsmeade. Her parents made sure she was quite prepared before the term started. They were the pinnacle of preparedness. Mum never left home without a sack full of items to be used in an emergency. Dad had every tool known to man in the back of his little car, ready for a flat tire. It was a running joke. He'd never had to use any since he bought them.
Professor McGonagall was also unimpressed with Ron's timing.
"I sure hope you do well to remember your studies, Mister Weasley, better than you remember your friends," she declared. "Transfiguration has a great many of exams this term."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Hermione raced to her dorm to find what had been delivered. It was sure to be an accident. Perhaps Lavender ordered a robe from the local shop. Although it wouldn't explain the wrong name on the label.
There upon her feather down comforter of burgundy was a silver box. White roses laid between the shimmer of silver, just barely visible to the eye. It was subtle. She liked it very much.
A small hole was cut through each side of the box. How odd.
What good would a hole do? Surely things would fall out from the inside thus defeating the purpose of a box at all.
Hermione yanked the top away from the body, and revealed a white bodied creature stretched across the bottom. A pair of ice blue eyes blinked, unperturbed by her intrusion, and rose to its feet.
The cat. Malfoy's cat.
She fell to her bed with a groan. Nothing was her way. Not in the slightest did her life resemble something of her design. A bit of driftwood battered by the sharp edges of the sea without hope for steady land ever again.
The box moved. She yelped loudly when the cat appeared next with a bit of parchment in its mouth.
"Give me that," she snipped.
It did as it was told. Her eyes widened with shock, unable to believe that it truly listened.
Oh right, she reminded herself, enchanted.
The envelope held a picture. It was dark and murky but looked as though it was a picture of a cat. A fluffy brown cat perched atop a green bedspread, black embroidery shredded in its claws. The two orange eyes looked devious. It batted at the camera as the picture was captured.
The note explained more.
Fair is fair, pet. I've named mine Khaleesi, for her temper and righteous manner are worthy of a queen's name. Think of a regal name for yours. He has the protected heart of a dragon, not unlike someone else you know.
The faintest smile ghosted across her lips.
Blue eyes watched her closely as she came close and offered a scratch behind the neck.
"What do you say to the name, Drogon?"
It purred.
"Very well. Drogon it is."