For a month, Lysandre got used to his dragon form with Professor Sycamore helping him along the way until one day, Lysandre looked over his friend's shoulder as he read a book on dragons. Curious, he asked, "Professor, what's a hoard and why do dragons have one?" Professor Sycamore nearly felt his soul leave his body once his friend popped the question about hoards. "Well, uhh, it's," he hesitated before continuing. "It's when you collect a specific thing that holds sentimental value to you."
"But I thought dragons only hoarded gold, gems, or fair maidens they captured!" Lysandre replied, somewhat baffled. Professor Sycamore said nothing, but looked at Lysandre's modest collection of candles on the kitchen table and the romance novels that decorated his shelf. "Dragons can hoard anything they desire," he explained again. "Even the most mundane of things can hold value. Hell, I once knew a dragon that hoarded broken technology and every time I visited him, his hoard would change." Lysandre interrupted his friend and asked, starry-eyed, "So that means I can hoard candles and romantic novels?" Professor Sycamore nodded before continuing, "Now, because you're a dragon, you might get the urge to add things to your hoard, so if you're feeling antsy about that, don't worry. It's perfectly normal behaviour, alright?" Lysandre nodded before tenderly nuzzling his friend as if to say a silent "thank you for sticking with me". In response, Professor Sycamore gently petted Lysandre's snout.
After researching what a hoard was for dragons, Lysandre asked Professor Sycamore if people counted for a hoard, his friend answered with a simple "yes" before Lysandre told him that ever since he became a dragon, he felt more protective of his friends and possessions than usual. "Well, doesn't everyone feel protective most of the time?" Professor Sycamore asked light-heartedly. "No, it just feels like I need to stand guard and protect you every single second. Why do I feel the need to do that? Is it because I'm this dragon? Why am I like this?! What am I?!" Lysandre's rant soon devolved to a collection of agitated growls, yowls, and roars before Professor Sycamore put a tender hand on his smoky-grey mane of fur and said "calm down, my friend." Soon enough, Lysandre calmed down and breathed deeply. Perhaps he was too focused on the fact that he had new inhuman urges to deal with. And every cell in his body screamed at him to add more things to his hoard or to start flying, which he despised.
That night, Lysandre stared at the ceiling and was sleepless before he looked over at Professor Sycamore's bedroom. After half an hour of thinking and staring, Lysandre soon crept out of bed and made himself comfortable at the end of his friend's bed. Feeling a heavy weight, Professor Sycamore woke up and though he couldn't see that well in the dark, he could barely make out a vaguely draconic thing sleeping, from the sounds the thing made, he could tell it was Lysandre. "What are you doing here?" Professor Sycamore asked tiredly before Lysandre replied with a simple "sleeping." and promptly closed his eyes before opening them again. "I can't sleep." he explained. "I thought that if I couldn't sleep by myself, I could potentially sleep with my quote-unquote "hoard". Do you still mind if I sleep here?" "Just for tonight, alright? Do you promise?" Professor Sycamore asked. Lysandre could only nod gently as a smile crept up on his face. "Thank you." he said in a drowsy voice. That night, he slept soundly and dreamt of flying.