Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Dissecting Dragons ( Chapter 9 )

Part 9

The elves served breakfast in the common rooms of each house since two dead dragons currently filled the great hall. Draco stared at the smaller of the two, his grimoire in his hands. Only a few hours ago those sharp teeth had nearly devoured him and even though it was dead, the body still unnerved him.

"Serves you right, you ugly bastard," he muttered and turned away.

The Slytherin dining table, the only one to survive the attack since it had been pushed against the wall, provided plenty of space for the endless jars that his master had set out. Draco nearly laughed when he saw the size of them. Most were as big as first year students and a few could have held Crabbe or Goyle easily. Using such large containers for dragon parts bordered on ridiculous. Dragon anatomy often sold in small bottles for high prices. This felt a little like pouring expensive perfume into buckets.

The table also gave him a place to set his grimoire. He pushed a few jars out of the way and set his book down, then bent and gently blew on the lock holding it shut. The lock clicked softly and the thick belt pulled open on its own. He turned over the cover and flipped the yellowed pages to the table of contents, scanning the handwritten notes that divided the book into categories and chapters. In sharp cursive written by some distant ancestor, he found the section on dragons and turned to that page.

Diagrams of several dragons lay spread before him, also hand drawn and meticulously labeled. He found the Welsh Green dragon and studied both the parts and the margin notes recommending the best methods for dissection. He sighed as he read the long column.

"I don't care how much you sigh," Severus said as he came up behind him, placing a rolled bundle onto the table. "You're not getting out of this."

"It's not that," Draco said. "I just don't think I'll be of any help. I've never done this before and it looks so detailed and complicated."

"It is complicated," Snape said. He unrolled the bundle to reveal a long line of oddly curved black knives that would have sent normal wizards scurrying back in revulsion. "But you shouldn't feel as if this is a test of your skills. I've never taken a dragon apart either."

"Never?" Draco's eyes widened. "Mother's done several before. Well, the pieces anyway."

Snape shot him a look. "I admit, Narcissa's expertise in the illegal dragon trade would make her a more suitable tutor for this. Of course, she's never done a complete dragon and hates to get her hands dirty, so you'd still be doing all the cutting. Now take this--" he pushed a jar with a brass top into Draco's hands "--and start with its teeth."

Wincing, Draco turned and trudged back to the dragon, kneeling beside its jaws. Its mouth was open enough for him to remove the teeth without trouble, but he cast a quick risana spell to open the jaws wider and then cast a bracchia charm to hold them secure. With a deep breath to steady himself, he grabbed the nearest fang and dug his knife down along its root.

The head suddenly trembled violently and tilted towards him. Dropping his knife with a shriek, he scrambled backwards and hit his head on the table's edge. Severus turned with his wand out, but he paused and watched the head thrash a few more times, finally coming to rest with a high pitched crack as its jaws broke against the bracchia charm. Snape lowered his wand.

"So they bite reflexively even when dead," he murmured. "Fascinating."

On the floor at his master's feet, Draco started to breathe again. "Fascinating...right."

"Well, go on," Severus said. "I don't think it'll give you any more trouble."

Draco looked up at him in shock. "You can't honestly expect me to go stick my hand in there!"

"I do indeed," Severus said. "Now get to it. We won't stop until we've finished this one."

Draco would have argued more but he knew his master hadn't slept the night before and an irate Snape was not to be argued with. Retrieving his knife from the floor, he screwed up what little of his courage was left and slowly approached the head. Seizing the first fang again, he thrust his knife into the root again and closed his eyes. Nothing happened, and he easily yanked the tooth out.

"I think they only bite once," he said, partly to tell his master and partly to calm his nerves. "It's just a reflex, but make sure you're careful around the claws."

"Duly noted," Severus said dryly, but Draco noticed that he jotted a note into the grimoire anyway.

One by one, Draco cut and wrenched each tooth free, dropping them into the jar at his feet. The close fitting and severe robes that Snape had bought him snagged on the teeth so halfway through he took off his outer robes and left them in a pile on the floor. Because the dragon's heart had stilled the sockets didn't bleed profusely, but even so, blood covered his hands and arms. The last fang was stuck fast, so he grabbed it with both hands and leaned all of his weight against it, tearing it free along with several pieces of pink flesh attached at the root that splattered his face and robes with blood.

"Done here," he ground out between clenched teeth, tossing the fang with the others and sealing the jar shut.

"Eyes next," Severus said, not turning from his own work. He'd used a thin knife to slice through the dragon's skin above its left foot, cutting a neat circle before working up the arm towards the stomach. Now he had almost the entire leg skinned. "And try to take them out intact."

"Fine..." Draco muttered, carrying the jar of teeth back to the table and retrieving an empty jar. He glanced over the grimoire and skimmed the notes for directions on removing eyes.

"Skinning...wings...pocket of flame in the gullet, have to watch out for that later," he murmured. "Teeth, tongue, ah...eyes. 'With bare hands, slide fingers into the sockets and pull the entire eye out, cutting the cords to free it. Best preserved in dragon's blood'."

As disgusting as that sounded, it was better than putting his hands into its mouth again. He walked back to the body and set the jar down at his feet, then realized he couldn't use both hands if one was holding a knife. Carefully holding the blade in his teeth, he rolled his sleeves up higher and pushed the dragon's eyelid up.

Edging his fingers in the space between the eye and the bone, he grimaced as warm slime and blood slicked his fingers. His hands slipped all the way in but he didn't feel the back of the eye yet, so he continued reaching up to his elbows. His fingers finally touched, and he slowly pulled towards himself. The eye easily slid out of the socket, but he had to juggle it in one arm so that he could cut the cords connecting it to the brain. Slime, blood and a whitish fluid seeping out of the eye soon covered the front of his robes. After he removed the second eye, his clothes were soaked and dripping.

"Eyes are out," he said, putting the jar back on the table. He stretched his arms and gingerly stripped out of his shirt, leaving himself only in his trousers and shoes.

"Tear out its pedota, then," Severus said.

Draco blinked. What on earth was a pedota? He returned to his grimoire and looked over the diagram, squinting at the tiny labels with lines drawn to their corresponding parts. "Pedota," he told the book, and a single word glowed as if burning. He followed its line down to the dragon's mouth to a spot just above the throat where the dragon kept a small lump of bone hot enough to ignite the gases it used to breathe fire.

His jaw dropping in horror, Draco stared first at Snape and then at the dragon's jaws still held open by his charm. True, he'd pulled its teeth, but if it could bite reflexively, maybe it could swallow reflexively, too. There wasn't even enough room to stand or crouch inside.

"You want me to crawl down that thing's mouth?" he said, trying to keep his voice even but failing miserably. "You'll be cutting me out of its stomach if I try--"

"You'll be filling those jars yourself if you don't," Snape said, slicing through the leg bone and working off one of the feet. "My store of pure blood is dwindling, and I suspect that even yours might suffice."

Shocked into silence at the insult of his blood, Draco nearly drew his wand to hex his master. Just because he had wyvern blood was no reason to slander his family line. If he was honest with himself, he knew that Severus was simply in no mood to argue with an emotional Malfoy, and the potions master could be insultingly curt with his father as well. And throwing a tantrum simply would not work, not when Snape was used to more far more violent tantrums from Lucius. With a furious pout, Draco grabbed the longest knife on the table and stood at the dragon's mouth, staring into the dark cavern that had nearly eaten him the night before. Now that he was looking, he spotted the pedota's faint glow at the back of the mouth.

Grimacing, he tightened his grip on the knife and knelt down, tentatively touching the dragon's tongue. Nothing happened. Bit by bit, he crept into the mouth, alert for any tensing of its muscles, any tremor in its tongue. He consoled himself that at least being held open for so long had dried out its saliva, making his crawl easier and less disgusting.

Nothing bad happened when he reached the throat, and the bony protrusion was warm but not hot to the touch as he grabbed it and sliced it out. To his surprise, it continued to glow. More blood ran down his hands and arms, and a little even dripped on his back as he turned and climbed back out.

"Merlin, he's inside it's mouth!"

Ah, the trio. Wonderful. Draco sneered as he stood up, his messy prize in one hand and his knife in his other. Ron only looked surprised to see Draco coming out from inside. From the identical looks on both Hermione and Harry's face, neither had seen a dragon stripped down for parts.

Green eyes. Draco's breath hitched when Harry's eyes focused on him. Today they seemed even more intense than usual, almost feverish. Momentarily forgetting that he had blood on his hands, he pushed back a stray lock of hair from his eyes, leaving a dark red streak in his pale blond hair.

"Don't you have classes?" he asked, walking by them.

"Classes are cancelled for today," Hermione said and tossed her hair out of her face. "Dumbledore said we should be here."

"Couldn't you go back in its mouth?" Ron said as he looked around for a place to sit. All of the chairs had been reduced to splinters during the attack. "See if it'll swallow you? If it wasn't dead, it'd probably die of poison."

"Ron--" Hermione started.

"You're covered in blood," Harry suddenly said, looking up and down Draco's body.

Self-conscious at being watched as he worked, Draco reddened slightly and pushed his hair back again, smudging his cheek. He couldn't help his own glance at Harry's clothing, odd muggle wear that looked like he'd nearly grown out of it. "It's nothing," he finally said, looking away as he put the still-glowing pedota in its jar.

"Yeah, it's all right, Harry," Ron said. "I heard dark wizards bathe in the stuff. That's his mother's milk, it is."

"Of course it is," Draco said. "I've missed it so much these past few weeks. How about it, Weasley? Your sister would do just fine, and your family's already got too many children--"

"You stay away from Ginny!" Ron yelled. Both Hermione and Harry stared at Ron in shock. He seemed to take Draco's threat dead serious. "I swear to God, if I even see you in the same room as her--"

"That's enough." From behind the dragon's head, Snape walked into view with two of the dragon's paws in his hands. "If the headmaster saw fit to send you three here," he said, glaring disdainfully at them, "then sit down and stay quiet. Draco, shear the scales off of its face next."

While Snape left the great hall, levitating several full jars of dragon parts out the door and presumably to the dungeons, Ron and Hermione both sat down on the floor. Opening her bookbag, she fished around for a textbook and Ron groaned and complained that she studied too much. Still standing, Harry stared at the blood covering Draco's hands and face, unabashedly watching his every move. Ron seemed to notice, but from his look he seemed to believe that Harry was dutifully keeping an eye on the dark wizard. Under Harry's constant gaze, Draco felt his face heat up, so he turned and busied himself with the diagrams in his book. He didn't want to say anything and attract Weasley's gibes, but Potter's look made him wish he could put something on. Cursing that his cloak was downstairs in the dungeons and his robes were in no condition to be worn, he scanned the page for instructions on shearing scales.

"That's your grimoire?' Harry asked softly.

Draco froze with a gasp. "Damn it, don't sneak up on me," he whispered, glancing sideways at him as Harry looked over his shoulder. He edged away as Harry bent over the book, but he quickly grabbed Potter's wrist as he reached for the book.

"Don't touch it," Draco said. "It's cursed...no one can touch it but blooded Malfoys."

"Not even your mother?" Harry asked.

"She can. Father just had to share his blood with her, that's all." He realized he was still holding Harry's wrist and lingered for a moment. His own hand was pale in comparison, and even though he wasn't much smaller, his hand looked fragile next to Harry's. Remembering how evenly matched they'd been in their first year, he wondered how Potter had managed to overshoot him now in their seventh. His fingertips brushed over Harry's skin as he let him go and turned his attention back to the book.

"Who drew these?" Harry asked, staring at the diagrams. "They're beautiful."

"Some ancestor of mine," Draco said. "There's the signature at the bottom. Jeannette d'Abadie Malfoy." His voice trailed as he considered how familiar that name sounded. It conjured up a feeling of intense claustrophobia, cold stone and iron bars. The more he thought about it, the more vivid his memory became until he could see her prone on the floor of a prison cell miserably coughing blood. In one of his recurrent nightmares, he felt everything she had felt as she died.

"Muggles killed her," he murmured. "They tortured her until she gave them the sordid stories about the devil that they wanted, and she died waiting for execution." He softly traced the outline of a wing on the page. "I didn't know she'd drawn these."

Harry was quiet for several seconds. "You know your family so well..."

"Only their last moments." He picked up the shortest knife and gripped it firmly. "If you don't mind, even if the little Gryffindors get to sit around and have a holiday, I have work to do."

Glaring at him, Harry sat back down with his friends, coughing a few times and waving off Hermione's concerned nattering.

Draco returned to the dragon's head and carefully began removing scales one by one. The knife's edge slid under a scale, pulled it up and cut the soft tissue holding it in place. Then he could drop the scale into its jar and move onto the next. Blood spurting down his fingers and hands didn't surprise him. He knew from experience that facial wounds bleed profusely and dragons were no different, even without a beating heart. Though by now the blood had settled and cooled, dragon's blood ran nearly boiling hot so that it ran warm down his arms and shoulders. Because he had to raise his arms to reach the higher scales, soon his chest and back were covered. A few drops made it down his stomach to his pants.

Being an apprentice meant he suffered the messy work the master didn't want to do. While trying to keep blood from running into his eyes and stinging, he consoled himself with the knowledge that soaking in dragon's blood was considered good for one's health. Of course that blood was supposed to be hot and steaming and the person soaking was supposed to be the good wizard who killed it. Of all the stories he'd ever read, dark wizards never slew dragons, they only of them stripped them down like scavengers.

Which wasn't far from the truth. "Better a scavenger," he reasoned as he cut through a scale, "than a roasted wizard."

A thunderous clap and Hermione's sudden scream nearly made him cut off his own finger. He turned and saw her suspended overhead in a swirling vortex of black wind, her arms and legs flailing as she cried out. Beneath her, Harry tried to reach out and catch her hand, but the dark forces turning her head over heels blasted his hand back through sheer power. Ron's levitation spell burst ineffectively on the surface. Draco followed the vortex down to its narrow tail whirling out from his grimoire.

"Mm..." he mused. "So that's what the curse looks like." No wonder Severus said Malfoy magic was flashy.

"Malfoy!" Ron yelled over his shoulder. "Get her down now!"

"It's her own damn fault," Draco muttered. More interested in saving the old pages from potential damage, he moved as close as he could towards the vortex without the wind slashing his skin and reached around its tail to grab both ends of his open book. The storm didn't lose any strength, so he tried to close the book by force. As he pushed, however, the wind grew stronger, spinning Hermione violently and holding the pages open. The more he closed, the more force escaped through the increasingly smaller gap. The last few inches were impossible.

Warm arms completely enveloped him and he nearly let go in surprise. Backing into a solid body, he looked over his shoulder at Harry who'd come up behind him and put his hands over his own.

"Keep closing it," Harry said, adding his strength to Draco's.

With the extra help, the book began to close. Most of the wind only attacked Hermione more ferociously, but some of it blew wildly around the two seekers. Draco backed hard against Harry's body for shelter and heard Harry's breath wheezing deep in his chest.

Finally the book snapped shut. Hermione fell into Ron's outstretched arms, but her weight made them both hit the ground. The redhead groaned and glared from the floor at Draco. "You rotten, evil little ferret! You set her up, didn't you?"

Seeing Ron searching the floor for his dropped wand, Harry stepped between him and Draco. "It's not his fault, Ron. It was the book, it can't be touched by anyone but his family."

"And you didn't warn Hermione?" Ron snapped. "You know she can't resist an open book!"

Draco glared at her as he set his grimoire down. "The world doesn't revolve around your pathetic compulsions. You should learn to leave things that aren't yours alone. You're lucky the curse didn't suffocate you."

"As if you'd mind!" Ron yelled, giving up on his wand and standing, looking like he was ready to settle this with his hands. "You'd probably love to chop her up! Human body parts--"

"Nonsense," Draco drawled, but keeping safe behind Harry. "Her blood's hardly pure enough for our needs."

Harry glared over his shoulder at him. "Shut up, Malfoy. Blood doesn't matter and you know it."

"Blood is everything, Potter. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"How can you be so damn blind?" Harry yelled, turning his back to Ron and startling Draco back a step. "Hermione's the smartest girl in school, the muggleborns in Hogwarts do just as well as anyone else. How can you still think that blood matters?"

"Because it does, and I won't be lectured by someone who's never studied the history of the world he's supposed to protect!" Draco snapped. "I know you don't have a grimoire, but at the very least you could've--"

"The grimoire?"

Draco paused and they all looked back at Hermione, who'd caught her breath at last. Still wheezing, she coughed a few times as she steadied herself, taking Ron's offered arm to balance herself.

"The book?" she said, slowly wobbling to her feet. "The book did that?"

"Protected against thieves and snoops," Draco said without sympathy. "At least you're not poisoned. That's a favorite curse for books."

"But that's..." She stared at him in disgust. "What is wrong with you dark wizards? Cursing things so no one can touch them, creating nothing but poison, using magic that could kill you...that's no way to use magic."

"You can't create without killing," Draco said, sounding as if he was quoting something. "You can't use magic without being prepared to sacrifice something of yourself. It's hardly my fault you can't understand."

"Don't try to hide behind philosophy!" she yelled. "You take pleasure in hurting things. You like killing. You smile whenever you think about it!"

"Hermione--" Harry said, stepping closer and raising one hand. She ignored him.

"All of your kind say that they're just reflections of normal wizards, the darkness to their light," she said. "I've read the books in the Restricted Section, I've read your kind's books. I've read how you try to explain away all the vile things you do."

Ron looked down at her. "You've been reading dark books--?"

She didn't hear him, too intent on Draco. "It's nothing but pride and arrogance. Twisting the world around at your whim, killing people who don't fit in--"

"Good Lord," Draco whispered, more impressed at her temper than what she was saying. "The irony almost makes this funny."

"--your magic even feels dirty," she continued. "No wonder they call you dark, your magic's like tar or mud. Even after that cleansing rhyme, I still feel dirty. I wish--"

"You've been learning dark magic?" Ron said, taking a step back and staring at her, his mouth a thin line.

Hermione froze. The accusation in Ron's voice cut through her anger and made her remember where she was. Eyes widening as she realized what she'd said, she put her hands to her mouth as if to take it back. "Ron--I didn't--I mean--"

"You lied to me." He glared at her as hotly as she had at Draco. "All those times you said you were in the library, you were learning dark magic."

"Not all the time," she said. "But I couldn't just let Harry learn alone and I really wanted to know--I mean, I didn't know--"

"I told you it was evil and you didn't believe me?" Ron said, his voice growing angrier. "Just because you read so much, you think you bloody well know everything?"

Insulted, she frowned and stood straight. "How am I supposed to believe you when you don't tell me anything? All you ever said was to not ask questions, that wanting to know was just as bad as--"

"What's going on here?" Snape's voice rang through the hall as he came back in. "Ten points each for being so loud. If you can't keep your mouths shut, then get out."

"Fine by me," Ron said, turning on his heel and walking by him, disappearing down the hall.

"Oh, for heaven's sake..." Hermione muttered, bending and scooping her up books. "Ron! Ron, wait!"

As she ran after him, Draco thought she looked more like she wanted to argue instead of apologize. "I'm afraid you've lost your friends," he said to Harry.

"It was bound to happen," Harry sighed, leaning against the table. "They've been arguing for days. In a week or two, it'll be all right again."

Snape walked up to them and set a bundle of towels on the table. "What was that about?"

"Granger tried to read the book," Draco said. "It spun her around and nearly stole her breath."

"Ah...I see," Snape said. "And Weasley didn't try to kill you?"

"He wanted to, but Potter here got in the way and stopped him." Draco half-smiled. "There's something to be said for not understanding your culture, I suppose."

"Mm." Snape glanced sideways at Harry, who glared back. "Well, at least someone's taking the headmaster's recommendation seriously." He turned to go back to his work.

"What?" Harry challenged to his back. "No points for Gryffindor for being a good bodyguard?"

Snape briefly looked back. "Don't be naive. You could save the world and you still wouldn't get any points from me."

Harry practically growled as he watched him disappear behind the dragon's corpse. "How on earth do you stand working with him?"

"You get used to it," Draco said, reopening his book. He noticed that Harry's angry look didn't fade and he breathed out, leaning hard against the table. "If you ignore his insults and look at what he actually does, he's really quite fair."

"Only if you're a Slytherin. He's mean, he's petty, and he's absolutely horrid to everyone around him."

"Yes, well, he just gives back what he's gotten." Draco glanced up at him. "You're not going to run after your friends?"

Harry shook his head and hopped up on the table, dangling his legs over the side. "No, I'd just make it worse. Besides, one of us should stay here with you."

"Suit yourself. Might want to clean yourself off, though. You've got blood all over you."

"What?" Harry groaned as he examined his stained clothing and hands from where he'd touched Draco.

Meanwhile Draco went back to shearing scales, but he couldn't help glancing out of the corner of his eye every few minutes at Potter. Over the next hour, without Ron or Hermione to distract him, Draco noticed that Harry looked pale and drawn. His head tilted to one side and he leaned listlessly against the wall, hardly moving and coughing occasionally. After a little while, Potter noticed his look and stared back.

Draco flinched. Harry's look wasn't just piercing. His eyes seemed to burn. Set against his pale skin, his eyes glittered like emeralds and almost seemed to glow. Even more bizarre, Draco distinctly heard Harry's ragged and uneven breathing from half-way across the hall and wondered if Potter was merely sick or if something had happened during sixth year that had affected him this way. Perhaps a werewolf had bitten him, he thought. That would account for the heavy breathing, especially since the full moon would rise in a few nights. If that was true, no wonder Potter restlessly roamed the halls at night and prowled the grounds during blizzards. But Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to roam as a wolf at night. He dismissed the idea as he cut off the last scales.

When he'd finished, the great lizard's face looked more like an exotic dish than a dragon. Completely skinless now and with most of its distinguishing features cut away, it resembled nothing more than a great slab of meat. Useless meat, he recalled. Dragon muscle made fine steaks but useless potions ingredients. Only the bones, sinews and organs were of any use once the skin and sharp bits were off.

"Mm...wonder if we could get the elves to butcher it for us," he mused.

A soft thump made him look back at Harry, who'd jumped off the table and was swaying slightly as he walked towards the door to the hallway. Holding onto the table with one hand, he held his other hand against his forehead and kept his eyes downcast.

"Is my bodyguard leaving so soon?" Draco called to him.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Harry said with a groan. "I just need to go to the bathroom, that's all."

Draco watched him walk out, but a sharp reminder from his master made get back to work. Each dragon scale weighed about as much as a single galleon. All together in one jar they were nearly immovable. They clinked as he levitated them to the table and set them down by the sheets of quick-dried dragon skin his master had hung up. Itching from the drying blood, he took a moment to towel himself off. The whole great hall reeked of blood, the heavy copper smell was overwhelming, and now he understood why he and Snape had gone without breakfast. Dissecting dead dragons after eating would've made him vomit.

Which was probably what Harry had gone to do, he thought. He looked down the table where Harry had been sitting and noticed a small empty vial on its side. Frowning, he picked it up. Light blue residue clung to the sides. He knew the vial didn't come from Snape's storeroom, so what was Potter doing with strange potions?

Somewhere out of sight in the hallway, glass shattered and crashed to the ground immediately followed by Harry's startled yell. Wand in hand, Draco was moving toward the sound before the echo faded.

Only a few yards from the door, Harry lay on his side, holding himself half upright on one arm while searching blindly for his glasses with his other. Shattered shards covered him and the floor where the nearest window had burst.

"Stay still!" Draco spotted the glasses several feet away and spelled them into Harry's hand, then swept the glass safely away.

Instead of standing, though, Harry groaned and rolled onto his back. Thin cuts lined his face and hands, but it was his deathly pallor and quickening breath that told Draco that this was something more serious than an exploding window. He knelt beside Harry and looked down as his fingers touched something wet on the floor. White liquid made a thin puddle around the cracked remains of a tiny vial.

"What on earth?" Draco whispered.

"Med...medi...med..." Harry choked on his words. "Pomfrey..." His breath turned into a dry rasp and he started to tremble.

"Medicine, right." From the look of it, Harry had gone out to take whatever Pomfrey had given him, the window had burst and he'd dropped the vial just when he needed it. Deciding to worry about the window later, he grabbed a threadbare edge of Harry's clothes and ripped a section off, then dropped it over the white medicine, soaking up as much as he could. It barely made the cloth damp. He held it up and winced as Harry's shaking became violent. There was no time to rush him to the hospital.

"Breathe in, Potter." He stretched the cloth over Harry's open mouth but his shuddering gasps didn't take in the vapors quickly enough. He had no choice. Lying beside Harry and taking a deep breath, Draco opened his mouth and breathed out over the cloth. Coughing as he accidentally inhaled fumes, Draco nonetheless continued forcing his breath into Potter.

Falling in synch, he breathed out while Potter breathed in, and he turned his head away trying not to breathe in the medicine himself. Somewhere around the seventh breath, Harry's trembling eased and he was able to take deeper breaths. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder to steady himself, feeling as though he was falling even though he lay on the floor. Although Harry looked better, Draco continued breathing for him for several minutes, and Harry did nothing to stop him. He even pulled him a little closer, and Draco crawled over him for a better reach.

Finally Draco leaned back on one arm, wiping medicine from his mouth with the back of his hand and smearing blood over his lips. "Better?"

Breathing steadily, Harry nodded once. He still looked pale and tired, but nothing like when he'd fallen.

"Yeah." Harry put his glasses back on and took a deep breath. "What did you do? CPR?"

"What?" Draco tilted his head. "You couldn't swallow, so I breathed it for you. You should probably see Pomfrey, you couldn't have gotten the full dose."

"Oh..." Sitting up on his elbows, which was as far as he could with Draco still on top of him, Harry looked at him curiously. "Thank you."

Only inches away, their eyes met. Curiously this time Draco didn't flinch. Far from forcing him to look away, Harry's eyes seemed inviting, drawing him in. "You just remember to make sure no one tries to blame me for this. Another accident and we're both here...the Prophet'll be saying I'm trying to kill you."

"Are you?"

Draco blinked. "No. I--" His voice trailed off as Potter stared at him, and he was vaguely aware that he'd frozen in position. Feeling as though he was floating, muffled voices echoed in his head, Snape's, Dumbledore's, his mother...he heard his father telling him that he was a fully recognized knight, but any initiation ceremony would have to wait until the next Walpurgis night--

"Knights of Walpurgis?" Harry asked.

Suddenly Draco realized his thoughts were being shuffled through and he cried out, turning his head away and screwing his eyes shut tight while fumbling desperately for his wand.

"Oh God, Malfoy." Harry sounded truly distressed and put his hands on Draco's shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't--I mean I couldn't--"

Draco tried to move away but Harry held him still. He kept his eyes shut, feeling sick as he thought that Harry might be a legilimens. No wonder he couldn't look him in the eye for long, and he gave a silent apology to his master for complaining about his occlumency lessons. Flinching each time he'd looked at Potter had probably kept his thoughts safe. "How could you, after I just--?"

"I didn't mean to," Harry said in a rush. "I'm still learning, sometimes I see without meaning to--"

Footsteps pounded down the hall, crunching broken glass underfoot. "Get away from him, Malfoy!"

Draco looked up at Ron, Hermione and several more Gryffindor students running towards them and realized he was crouched over Harry and covered in indistinguishable blood. Finally finding his wand, he threw himself to one side as a stupefy spell flew from Hermione's wand. A moment later, an incendio spell scorched the wall where his head had been. Lying on his side, he aimed his wand at the first thing he saw, Ron's red hair, and did not seem to cast a spell but rather called out "hrofana" as if calling something forth.

They had all seen birds fly out of a wand before, but they had never seen such huge ravens sweeping out of Draco's wand in such a throng that they momentarily blotted out the light. Even though he had aimed at Ron, the flock flew into the crowd, pecking and clawing anything in reach.

About to run while everyone was distracted, Draco covered his eyes as blinding light filled the hallway, destroying his ravens and blinding everyone else. As they all blinked away spots, he recognized his master's voice mingled with McGonagall's.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, lowering her wand.

"Malfoy attacked Harry," Ron said. "We saw him on top of Harry like he was sucking his breath out."

Both Snape and Draco started to speak, but Harry interrupted both of them.

"He wasn't hurting me," he said, sitting up with a labored breath. "He saved me. I almost--" He cut himself off short and looked down at the cracked vial, then back at his head of house. "It broke," he said simply.

McGonagall noticed the white stain and quietly nodded once. Shaken by his near brush with Harry's mind, Draco still catalogued that little exchange for later scrutiny.

"Mr. Weasley," she started, "I believe I told all of you to remain inside the tower for today."

Ron's jaw dropped. "We thought he was being attacked--"

"So you have said," she replied. "But your rash assumptions could have led to serious injuries all around, as well as endangered Mr. Malfoy's life even more than it already is."

"But he's covered in blood and Harry's bleeding everywhere," Seamus said.

Harry lowered his face but it didn't completely hide his face turning red. "It's not mine," he mumbled.

They all couldn't help looking at the Slytherin on the floor. Draco grumbled to himself and stood up, brushing off a few pieces of glass harmlessly stuck to his skin. "I had to get close, I couldn't help it," he said to Snape.

"Understandable," Severus said. "Get back to the hall and continue working. Professor McGonagall and I need to examine the damage here."

"And you lot," McGonagall said to her students. "Go on. I'll see to you later."

Still looking back at Malfoy and obviously not believing him, the group turned and went back towards the staircase, muttering to themselves about the unfairness of it all. Ron and Hermione bent towards each other and continued arguing, their momentary truce to save Harry's life forgotten.

"Why didn't you come sooner?" Draco asked as he paused by his master's side. "I thought you'd be right behind me when I heard the glass explode."

"'Explode'?" he echoed. "I came because I heard you yell."

"It wasn't that loud," Harry said, still sitting down. "More like a pop than anything else. The glass hitting the floor made more noise. You probably heard me instead of the glass," he said, looking at Draco and then at the floor when he wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Odd," McGonagall said. She turned her attention to the window frame in question and ran her wand over the sill. "Perhaps a silencing charm was placed on it. Which of course means it was rigged to go off when someone walked by."

"Not someone," Harry said. "Me. Ron and Hermione walked by here and nothing happened. It was meant for me."

"You were with us for an hour," Draco argued. "It could've been done after they left."

"A possibility we will examine," Snape said. "Not you. And if you want to eat anything today you'll go finish that dragon."

Not that he had much of an appetite, but Draco knew that tone. When he reached the doorway to the great hall, he glanced over his shoulder at Harry. Covered in red stains and coughing as he spoke with McGonagall, the Boy Who Lived looked very much like a tired child and he wondered how they expected him to defeat the dark lord. Not for the first time Draco thanked his luck that he would not be fighting alongside him.

True to Snape's word, Draco did not eat until the first dragon lay completely bottled and catalogued in the room next to his master's office. They levitated the last jar inside by starlight. Rows of blood, scales, skin, internal organs, sinews and claws filled the shelves, and he knew he could look forward to an even longer workday on the larger dragon. Yawning, he scratched at the dried blood coating his skin but he desperately wanted to eat more than he wanted to shower.

"It's already late," Snape said. "You don't have time for anything more than supper and washing up, so don't dawdle."

"Yes, sir." Draco all but ran from the office before Snape could remember anything else he needed to do. Once in the kitchens, he had to reassure Daffy that he wasn't hurt before she'd give him dinner. While eating it so fast that he nearly burned his mouth, he spotted her setting out two trays of pastries. Sure enough, a minute later, the painting entrance swung out and Harry walked in, hesitating for just a moment when he noticed him.

"Evening," Harry said, taking his tray and sitting down.

Draco just nodded once and began working on his own pastries. Exhausted or not, in his opinion there was always time for dessert, and he took the opportunity to examine Harry's hands, which shook very slightly.

"Feeling better?" Draco asked.

"Much." Harry looked him over in return. "You're still bloody."

"Too hungry to shower first." He opened his mouth to take another bite but a coughing fit made him turn away.

"You're still coughing?" Harry asked. "It's from what you breathed in, isn't it? Why didn't you see Pomfrey?"

"No time," Draco said, taking a breath. "It's almost gone anyway. Whatever medicine you take, it hardly affected me."

They ate in silence for a few seconds, and then Draco decided to try asking him questions again. Hopefully it would go better than their last dinner together, especially if Harry felt guilty about earlier.

"What was that stuff, anyway?"

Harry stalled for time, finishing another pastry before answering. "Just something to keep me settled. There was a bit of an accident last year."

"That adventure where you won a thousand house points?"

Now Harry half-smiled. "It wasn't a thousand...weren't you paying attention at the end of year dinner?"

"Not really. Father and I were busy. I didn't notice much outside our plans."

"Your father..." Harry said softly. "I hadn't thought about it but...is he like you? I mean, you're both blooded Malfoys."

"If you're asking if he's also a half-breed, yes." And a much larger wyvern, he thought, but he didn't say it.

"Is he as small as you?"

Draco decided that Potter had a knack for asking very irritating questions. "I'm somewhat unique in our family. Wyverns usually are a little bigger."

Harry looked like he was going to say something, but he reconsidered and closed his mouth. Finishing the last bit of dessert, he stood up and started to leave, but he stopped at the painting and looked back.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"What?"

"You were right," Harry said. "You can be courteous...for a little while, at least."

Draco stared at him as he left.

TBC...

Author's Notes:

1. pedota, from the Medieval Greak pedotes, pilot (yes, it's the dragon's pilot light)

2. hrofana, from the Old English hrœfn, raven