Chapter 45 - Dragon Taming
Severus sat by the fire long after Harry had gone to bed. He was glad he had thought to take the Calming Draught before talking to the boy, for even with it, the emotions churning around inside him were chaotic. He could still feel a good sense of rage - but it was no longer directed at the young man he seemed fated to share his life with. No, now it was directed once more firmly at the Dursleys who seemed to have hurt the boy so deeply he felt that wishing for some real bond with his family was selfish.
A selfish thing, Harry had called it, wanting it to matter that any kindness directed toward him was because of who he was rather than the role he was forced to play in life. Severus regretted deeply now the words he had said that morning, and how grossly he had misunderstood. If the smile Harry had bestowed upon him was any indication, he had forgiven him readily, but surely the wound must still be there and Severus did not know how to mend it.
Merlin the boy was confusing! He baffled Severus at every turn. But Severus felt some hope in his heart; it was obvious that the young man had feelings for him. It was just as obvious that he didn't have a clue what those feelings might entail. Neither did Severus for that matter - save to see that Harry trusted him, was grateful to him, and wanted to matter to him, wanted to be part of a family. And when Harry had smiled at him, Severus had felt his heart turn over.
One day, he told himself, he wanted to meet the Dursleys face to face, and he wanted to see all three of them squirm in shame for what they had done. He wanted to see them regret every selfish and cruel thing they had ever done to their nephew. One day, he promised himself, he would extract some sort of petty revenge that went beyond the spells Albus had cursed them with.
Harry had gone to bed shortly after their conversation without too much prompting, and Severus guessed he was now sound asleep under the influence of the Dreamless Sleep Draught. He wanted to go to bed himself, wanted to put this entire day behind him, but he was wary of doing so. Rage at the Dursleys wasn't the only emotion plaguing him - the desire to touch Harry did not seem to be fading, despite the Calming Draught.
He'd grabbed Harry that morning when he'd seen him standing so close to the feral werewolf - it had been all he could do to let him go when Albus had ordered him to. And earlier this evening when Harry had panicked, thinking the werewolf dead, it had been all Severus could do to keep from grabbing him once more. He'd settled instead for touching his shoulders and had been desperately grateful when the boy had welcomed his touch.
Frankly, he was disgusted with himself. He usually had more self-control than this - and he'd certainly never lusted after one of his students. His last lover had been a man his own age that he'd met at a Potions Conference - a rather brilliant, charming blond named Andre. And before him there had a been a dark-skinned woman ten years his senior who had taken him into the Amazon to search for rare potion ingredients. While he had always been the more dominate partner in any relationship, he had never sought out people so much younger than himself, or so naive or innocent they didn't know what they were getting into. He'd never been jealous or possessive of past lovers; he hadn't cared enough. He had let them all go with barely a glance back. And he had certainly never sought out someone so young that they didn't know exactly what they wanted from a relationship. He had never seduced a virgin.
Albus said that the feral transference did not make him feel anything alien - it merely amplified the emotions already inside him. And it seemed that Harry brought out feelings he had tried to remove from his nature - possessiveness, jealousy, and the desire to control. He saw those emotions as character flaws - certainly they had been motivating factors in his father's life. He comforted himself somewhat with the realization that along with all those darker feelings was the overwhelming need to protect as well. But to feel such lust for someone so much younger than himself, someone so innocent - he wasn't certain what to think any more.
Something Lucius said echoed in his mind. "I had not realized how attractive the boy had become," Lucius had told him. "I am not blind. My tastes have always run toward women - but Mr. Potter has an aura of power about him."
As far as he could remember, and he'd known Lucius his entire life, Lucius Malfoy had never expressed an interest in another male. From what he heard from Diana even Julius had tried several times to seduce Malfoy into his bed and had failed. And while Lucius certainly had no qualms about seducing virgins or those far younger than he was - the mistress he'd killed Severus' father over had been only fourteen - they had always been female.
And yet Lucius found Harry attractive - there was a reason he'd set McGonagall to guard the door last night during the meeting with Fudge. Severus had seen the way Lucius had stared at Harry in the Great Hall. There was no way he was going to allow the man within ten feet of the boy.
Was it the power, he wondered? Was that what was throwing him into such chaos, a lust for power? He had never believed in the things the Dark Lord had stood for - had never bought into his ideology or the madness he could see threatening on the horizon. He had joined the Death Eaters strictly to stop his father - to reclaim his family honor. But despite his opposition to the philosophy, he had always understood the attraction to the power. And he really had embraced at least part of the lifestyle - the blood sports, vicious duels with sword and wand against any opponent foolish enough to anger him, or stupid enough to challenge him.
He blamed part of that on the Marauders. They had tormented him, and he had turned vicious in retaliation. But he had always thought of it more as a sport rather than a reflection of who he truly was. And when he had begun spying for Albus, he had never once lost sight of the main goal. But maybe his motives had not been as pure as he'd always believed? Maybe he had joined Albus and the Order because he had wanted to be part of something greater than himself, wanted some access to the enormous power Albus Dumbledore possessed, and not because it was simply the right thing to do?
Maybe he was drawn to Harry for exactly the same reason?
The boy was young and naive about so many things. He would always be smaller than him, slender and graceful, physically weaker than he was. But despite all of that it was becoming more and more apparent that Harry Potter was magically stronger than he was - possibly stronger than all of them. At the young age of sixteen, he had already done feats of magic Severus knew he could never do. Certainly he could never have moved that Capstone - and spells that didn't even work for anyone else seemed to work with ease for Harry. And while the boy knew nothing about Occlumency, he seemed to have a will that was unbreakable, a strength of mind and thought that would not let him give up no matter what.
The boy had no skill at all with a sword, and yet he had slain a Basilisk at the age of twelve. He'd been kept locked in a cupboard most of his life, and yet he could stand before an army of hardened warriors and lead them into battle without flinching. And last night when he had touched Harry, he could feel his power radiating from his skin, and it had felt intoxicating.
Was that it? Was that where all his 'feelings' were coming from? A lust for power? Was there to be nothing good or noble or pure at all in his life, his motives for fighting against the Dark nothing more than Slytherin ambition? It was a rather depressing thought.
And yet, he hadn't lied to Harry. He had not been thinking about duty or honor when he'd run blindly into the Winter Lands to rescue the boy. The only thing he had been thinking about was getting Harry back safely. Protecting him - with his life if necessary.
Severus sighed and shook his head. Why didn't Gryffindors come with instruction manuals? It would certainly make his life far easier.
Charlie Weasley had never considered himself a sneaky person - like most Gryffindors he confronted things head on and left the plots and machinations to the Slytherins of the world. But his training with Dragons had taught him how to hunt, and sneaky or not he knew how to lay a trap.
He wasn't certain what precisely had sparked the idea - it had been nothing more than a passing fancy at first. He'd seen the way Draco Malfoy had looked at him the other night - he wasn't the first young man to look at him like that. And he remembered two years ago at the Tri-Wizard Tournament catching the Malfoy heir's eye several times back then too. Again, it had been nothing more than a passing fancy, a brief amusement to think that one of the high and mighty Malfoys might glance at a lowly Weasley with something more than contempt.
But last night, Draco had done more than simply watch him; he'd succeeded in catching Charlie's attention in return. Oh, he knew all the reasons why it was not a good idea - the young man was a spoiled brat, son of a Death Eater, most likely fated for Azkaban himself. But all those reasons seemed unimportant when weighed against the sheer beauty of the young man. He was elegant and refined, all pale and gold with rosy lips and eyes the color of the summer sky. Charlie couldn't help but return his appreciative attention, despite the fact that he knew nothing more would come of it.
But later that night when Severus had told them about the marriage proposal, and he'd seen the wild rage that had gripped Remus, something strange had come over Charlie - something strong and terrible, a sense of righteous anger over what was being done to Sirius and Remus. And that thought had led him to thinking about Draco - about the fact that Sirius would hate Draco for this. Would he hurt him, he wondered? Would the wolf hurt him? Would they tear apart all that pale skin and golden hair, and destroy the brilliant blue of those eyes? At that thought, a sense of possessiveness swept over Charlie, a desire to stop that from happening at all cost. Remus and Sirius did not deserve such a fate - and Draco was meant for something else, for someone else. Draco was meant to be his. Even the name suggested that Fate agreed - Draconis, the Dragon.
And so, simply put, Charlie laid a trap for the Dragon. He'd felt a momentary pang of guilt at the thought - but then shook it off. After all, it was best for everyone. Sirius and Remus didn't deserve what was happening to them; Draco was obviously nothing more than a commodity that Lucius had decided to trade. At least this way Draco would be with someone who cared about him - who would protect him. Any blame for the events about to unfold would be laid neatly at the feet of Lucius Malfoy who had set these things in motion in the first place.
The lure was easy enough. He'd spoken to the young man during his Care of Magical Creatures class. When he'd handed Draco the crup puppy he'd made certain to touch his hand, and he'd seen the way the young man's eyes had darkened in reaction. He'd blushed when Charlie had mentioned in passing that the baby unicorn down in the stables was an extraordinary sight. The lure was set; the next step was Draco's.
Charlie had just finished tending the wound on the hindquarter of one of the Thestrals in Stable number four when he'd heard the side door to the stable opening. It was just after dinner, and the majority of the students would be returning to their common rooms. Turning, he smiled when he saw Draco, heavily cloaked against the winter cold, sneaking into the stable, his blond hair ablaze beneath the Wizarding lights that lit the room.
Charlie moved silently out of the Thestral's stall, closing the gate behind him. He watched as Draco made his way toward the stall on the far side of the barn where the baby unicorn was housed. The young man had not yet noticed that he was not alone.
Charlie had made a point of staying away from the unicorn stall - he was there to tend the Thestrals, not the unicorn. Unicorns were beautiful creatures, their white coats gleaming like moonlight, their horns like crystal, but they were also incredibly fussy, and only allowed the pure to touch them. It had been several years since Charlie had qualified for such things, but he watched in some amusement as the small unicorn foal eagerly pressed up against the bars of the stall and allowed Draco to stroke its soft nose. He felt a momentary pang of guilt as he realized the implications, but he dismissed it again, more determined now to continue. Son of a Death Eater or not, the young man was innocent yet of any great darkness.
"He likes you," he murmured softly. The Slytherin did not startle, confirming to Charlie that unicorn had not been the lure. Draco had come for him.
Draco turned his head toward him, allowing the requisite Malfoy sneer to replace the look of delight that had been on his face only moments before. Curiously enough the young man made no effort to move away from the unicorn, but continued stroking its nose. Charlie knew that Draco had no clue how telling that action was - Slytherins after all thrived on their wild reputations. It confirmed to him that the rest of his trap would likely never be detected. Unicorns were covered in the fifth year Care of Magical Creatures textbook, right along with Dragons. Apparently Draco did not read the fine print.
"Of course he likes me; I'm a Malfoy," Draco replied haughtily, and while he tried initially to merely look Charlie in the eyes, his gaze seemed drawn down his body, lingering on the long line of his leather clad legs. A tempting blush rose in the young man's pale cheeks and his lips parted with a quick, indrawn breath.
Charlie smiled slowly and took a step toward him, moving cautiously so that he did not spook his quarry. It was important that he lure the young man to him. "Is there something special about being a Malfoy?" Charlie mused.
The young man sneered at him. "What would you know? You're just a Weasley." His gaze this time moved over the line of his broad shoulders and narrow waist, lingering on the open neck of his half unbuttoned shirt where golden skin was showing through. Days on end out in the sun and weather working with the Dragons all over the world had bronzed his skin; he was not prone to the freckles that plagued his younger brothers. And then Draco's eyes widened as he caught sight of the thing that hung from a gold chain around Charlie's neck. The trap was sprung by the one thing no Dragon could resist.
"What's that?" Draco breathed, losing all interest in the unicorn as he turned his full attention on Charlie. If there was one thing you could count on, it was a Malfoy's greed. Draco, for all his innocence, was no different.
Charlie lifted the chain around his neck, holding the item up for Draco to see clearly. At first glance it might seem nothing more than a golden galleon tied around his neck, but it did not bear any of the Ministry markings found on English currency. It was coin-shaped, but hammered and rough in finish. The attraction lay in the material itself - for there was truly nothing else like it in the world. Golden in color, it seemed to have a light inside of it, as if the surface of the metal was crystal and the golden color came from a living flame deep within it. While it did not give off any true light of its own, it glittered and gleamed hypnotically, absorbing all the ambient light around it.
"Have you never seen Dragon gold before?" Charlie asked as he allowed the coin to spin lightly on its chain, flashing and flickering with each movement.
"Dragon gold?" Draco asked, those blue eyes glued to the fiery surface.
"It is gold that has been melted over and over again beneath the heat of Dragon fire," Charlie told him. "Its one of the most rare substances in the world."
"Where did you find it?" Draco took a step toward him, drawn in by the flashing gold.
Charlie smiled at that. "It's part of a Dragon Tamer's final training. We have to sneak into the caves of the oldest and most ancient of all the Dragons and steal a piece of their gold for ourselves. After that we use it tame the young Dragons. No Dragon can resist its lure and with it we're able to bind them to us and keep them tame." Any guilt that might still be lingering within him was assuaged by his words - he'd given the young man fair warning after all.
Draco stepped closer, and reached out a pale, slender hand to touch the gold. But before he could make contact, Charlie closed his fist over the coin, hiding it from his sight. The young man's eyes flashed upward, meeting his gaze. He looked outraged at being denied. Charlie just gave him a slow lazy smile. "Dragon gold is sacred and very magical," he informed him. "I'll let you touch it, but only for a price."
The young man looked furious for a moment and then intrigued. He seemed all at once to realize just how close he was standing to Charlie and his face flushed with heat. His eyes, blue as the clearest sky, reflected a wary hunger. "What price?" he demanded, unconsciously licking his lips when Charlie let his gaze linger upon them.
"A kiss," Charlie told him. "Like it says in all the old stories." It was another warning, one the young man did not heed, ignoring it as he had all the others.
Draco's gaze moved back to Charlie's closed fist where he hid the gold. He raised his hand, gently trailing his perfectly manicured fingers over the scarred knuckles of Charlie's fist. Charlie felt his own breath catch in his throat at the gesture, and he knew in that instant that come hell or high water, he would not abandon the course he had set for himself. This was one Dragon who would not escape.
"Alright," Draco agreed, softly. "A kiss."
Consent given, Charlie did not waste a moment to allow the young man to reconsider. He caught the back of Draco's head with his other hand, tangling his fingers in the silken locks of blond hair, and pulled the slender body to him, claiming his mouth with a fierce kiss. The young man gasped in shock, but melted against him a moment later, both his hands moving to slide against the firm planes of Charlie's chest and around his body.
Charlie released the gold and wrapped his other arm around Draco's waist, pulling the young man hard against him as he deepened the kiss, moving hungrily against his mouth, tasting and devouring those rose-soft lips. And Draco responded, as he knew he would, with hunger and need and the driving desperation that had fueled his inability to keep his eyes off him every time they'd met.
When finally Charlie ended the kiss and leaned back slightly so that he could see Draco's flushed face and swollen lips, the young man made no effort to leave the circle of his arms. He looked dazed and breathless and only after a long minute seemed to remember what the point of all this had been. Still pressed against Charlie's body, either ignoring the obvious signs of arousal pressed hard into him, or enjoying it, he raised one hand to touch the gold now resting against Charlie's chest. His eyes flared with light when his fingers grazed the coin.
"It's warm," he breathed, and the inner fire inside the gold seemed to shift and move, dancing in response to his caress.
"It likes you," Charlie teased, and he trailed one hand down the young man's back, caressing the firm muscles of his behind. Draco moaned and pressed into him, raising his face eagerly, and Charlie kissed him again, tongue moving deeply inside. It took only moments before Draco was pulling at his shirt, tugging it open even as he writhed desperately against him, seeking some friction to relieve the ache welling inside of him.
Charlie stepped away from him then, releasing him, though it took all his will power to do so. Draco stared at him with wild, hungry eyes, confused by the turn of events. He watched him in breathless silence as Charlie moved toward one of the empty stalls near the back of the stable. Charlie glanced over his shoulder and smiled teasingly. "Are you coming?" he asked softly, his voice low and filled with promise.
Draco did not even hesitate, following immediately, his eyes flaring in anticipation. Charlie pulled him back into the darkness of the stall, tugging off the heavy winter cloak the young man was wearing, and tossing it down onto the clean sweet-smelling hay that covered the floor. Before the young man could remember that a Malfoy would never do something so crass as lie on the ground, Charlie had pulled him into his arms again and kissed him, pressing him down onto the cloak and the hay and covering him with his own body. He moaned softly when Draco's arms wrapped around him, welcoming him eagerly.
He imagined he could spend hours exploring Draco's body, for as he uncovered that pale, perfect skin, pealing away his clothing, Charlie saw that he was indeed as beautiful as he had ever imagined. Draco's inexperience was obvious, for he gasped and blushed each time he was touched somewhere new, but he was also eager to learn and desperate for whatever Charlie gave him. It was strange how the softest caress or a whispered compliment could set off the strongest reactions in him, as if he'd never before been treated with such care or tenderness. And Charlie regretted that he did not have more time this first night to spend hours worshiping the body that writhed beneath him. No matter, he told himself with a promise, there would be other nights ahead.
Unwilling to risk stopping and breaking the mood, Charlie used a whispered spell to prepare the young man, and by then they were both so desperate and tightly strung it was all he could do to breach his body with care, moving slowly for he did not want to cause him pain. Even still, Draco cried out and clutched at him wildly, digging his fingers into the muscles of his back, burying his face against Charlie's neck as if to hide the tears that momentarily stung his eyes. Charlie kissed him gently, and stroked his hair, holding his body still as he allowed Draco to grow accustomed to the sensation. One final thing, Charlie reminded himself, one final piece to the trap. Time at last to close and lock the cage.
"Draco," he whispered. "I'll give you a piece of my Dragon gold, but you have to ask for it. You have to ask for it." He stared intently down into Draco's blue eyes.
Draco's gaze shifted, staring now at the fiery piece of Dragon gold that hung between them, the chain around Charlie's neck dangling over him as Charlie held himself poised over his body. The gold spun and danced, holding his attention. Charlie rolled his hips slowly, driving himself deeper into Draco's body. Draco moaned, his back arching at the sensation. "Yes," he whispered. "Give it to me, give me the gold."
It was all the permission Charlie needed. Bracing himself on one hand, Charlie grabbed hold of the fiery coin and uttered a spell that triggered some secret magic deep inside the gold. The coin immediately broke in two and Charlie pressed the extracted piece down onto Draco's chest, letting it come in contact with his heated skin. And then he set all thoughts of gold aside and gave in to the demands of his body, moving swiftly now and driving himself in and out of the hungry flesh below him. All thoughts of right or wrong were forgotten, and there was only heat and fire and the building sensation of light and power inside both of them. He kissed Draco hungrily, reaching between them to stroke the young man to completion. And when he felt Draco cry out and come, he let himself go and exploded deep inside him. Had Draco's eyes been opened he might have noticed the blinding light that emanated from both pieces of Dragon gold in that instant.
Later, Charlie lay against the young man's side, propped up on one elbow as he stared down at the pale blond and watched him recover from their passion. He stroked Draco's body slowly with one hand, and saw the contented smile on that beautiful face as he relished the caress.
Eventually Draco remembered the piece of gold, and he reached up to pluck the half coin from where it still rested on his sternum. His eyes widened as he stared at the broken piece of coin - unlike the gold still hanging around Charlie's neck, this piece was fiery red. The fire inside it burned like molten lava and the metal had darkened to nearly the color of the purest ruby. It was utterly beautiful, and held the Slytherin's attention completely.
"It's red," he breathed in shock.
"Of course it is, Dragon," Charlie told him. "It always turns red when it's given away." If he caught the endearment in place of his name, he did not comment.
"Why does it turn red?" Draco asked curiously.
Charlie laughed at that. "Didn't you read your fifth year Care of Magical Creatures textbook? It explains all about Dragon gold in great detail in the appendixes."
"Of course I read it," Draco lied, and then smiled in satisfaction at the piece of gold in his hand as if just now realizing what a truly rare thing he held in his possession.
Charlie smiled in amusement and sat up, heedless of his nudity. He reached for his leather trousers, aware that Draco's gaze had moved from the gold now to his body, his eyes lingering on his naked form. Ignoring the appreciative stare, Charlie retrieved his wand and a slender golden chain from his clothing. Reaching out to take the piece of red gold from Draco's hand, he used his wand to fasten it to the length of chain. Draco watched curiously. Then motioning Draco to sit up and turn, he carefully placed the chain around the young man's neck, noticing the faint Malfoy heir tattoo on his shoulder blade - it would darken the day his father died and Draco became the Head of House. Using his wand, Charlie sealed the ends of the chain closed. He wondered how long it would take Draco to figure out that this chain would not come off.
"There you go, my Dragon," Charlie told him. "Now you can show off your prize to all your friends."
Draco seemed pleased with the idea and he fingered the gold in smug delight. Charlie gently kissed his forehead and the young man glowed with the attention.
Despite the warming charms on the stable, it was still the dead of winter, and both of them quickly grew chilled without their clothes. They dressed quietly, Draco stealing glances at Charlie as he refastened all his buttons. When they were dressed, they sat for a moment in the sweet smelling hay, listening to the sounds of the wind blowing outside.
"I have to get back before curfew," Draco sighed after a moment.
"I know," Charlie agreed. "It's nearly time now."
Despite this, Draco made no move to leave. He seemed to grow pensive the longer he sat there. He plucked at a piece of straw clinging to his trousers. "My father has arranged a marriage for me," he confessed softly.
"Do you know to whom?"
The young man shook his head. "No," he admitted. "He wouldn't tell me. Only that it was someone suitable for my bloodline." He sounded disappointed, bitter.
"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Dragon," Charlie told him.
Draco's blue eyes looked upward, filled with hurt. "You don't care?"
Charlie threaded his fingers through the golden locks of Draco's hair and pulled him toward him, kissing him deeply and soothing the hurt he had unintentionally caused. For all the Malfoy heir's spoiled arrogance, he was still a young man caught up in the turbulent emotions of his first-time. "Of course I care, Dragon," he told him fiercely when he was done kissing him breathless. "I just don't think you should worry. Things have a way of working out. It will be alright."
Draco searched his face intently, as if looking for some promise in his eyes. Charlie just smiled at him and stroked his cheek, marveling at the flawlessness of his skin.
"Can I come back tomorrow night?" Draco asked softly, and then flushed as if embarrassed to have asked such a thing or to be caught sounding so needy.
"I look forward to it," Charlie told him. "Good night, Dragon."
Draco smiled at him, a soft, shy expression that was probably as foreign to his features as it was honest in its emotions. In that one instant Charlie could see all the potential for the man Draco could become away from the influence of his father and all the Dark things that had surrounded him. And despite everything, the trap, the magic the young man knew nothing about yet, and the collar he now unknowingly wore about his neck, Charlie believed he had done the right thing. Draco was his now, and he would keep him safe.