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Draco's eyes widened as he looked down into his cauldron and saw it turning a deep violet-blue. There was barely any time for him to duck beneath the bench before it bubbled up and exploded violently all over his lab.
"Merlin's bloodiest hangnail," Draco sighed as he crawled out from under the bench and looked around his lab, only to see that every single surface was drenched by the potion he'd been working on.
Well, he'd certainly never try adding that much bubotuber again. At least, not in that amount, or at that point in the brewing process. That was the tricky bit about inventing potions: getting all the variables exactly right. He had burnt his eyebrows off with the last batch, so this was an improvement, but Draco was sure he was close to getting it right. He could feel it. Just a few more iterations, with a few more minor changes each time, and –
"Woah!"
Draco jumped and turned to see Charlie Weasley standing in the doorway to his lab, surveying the damage with raised brows.
"Potion get the better of you, Draco?"
He was clearly teasing, with that smile on his face, but it still stung.
"No," Draco said sharply, "obviously I meant to coat every inch of every surface with the dragon-strength muscle relaxant potion that I've been working to perfect for months!"
"Well, good thing I'm here, then," Charlie said cheerfully, taking Draco's poor attitude in stride, as always. "It's time for you to take a break."
"It's Thursday?" Draco blinked in surprise. He tended to get a little caught up in his brewing, which needed his attention for long hours, and he often forgot what day it was. Or when he should sleep. Or eat.
Charlie had been the only one to notice Draco's terrible self-care skills – or perhaps he was the only one who cared enough to do anything about it. Most of the dragon-tamers were a gruff lot and really only cared about dragons, not people.
Most dragon-tamers were not Charlie Weasley.
Ever since he'd found Draco asleep on a table in the mess hall with his hair soaking in soup (it had been borscht, and had dyed his hair pink for weeks), the dragon tamer had taken him under his wing, poking his head into Draco's lab about twice a day to see if he needed anything. Usually, what Draco needed was help cleaning up potion mishaps, which Charlie was almost always happy to do — he had come in on Draco completely naked and covered in green slime once, and just left, laughing uproariously. He had come back after he'd calmed down, though, so Draco had forgiven him.
At first, Draco had dismissed the idea that Charlie was actually interested in him, reasoning that this must merely be how people with five younger siblings acted when they found someone chronically incapable of taking care of themselves. He also hadn't wanted to admit that he found any Weasley attractive, but it did seem that the lion's share of charm and good looks had gone to this Weasley over any of the others.
But then Charlie had invited him out. And then he did it again, and again, until they had a steady thing of it going, pretty much always on Thursdays, because that was Charlie's day off. Although neither of them had brought up the matter, there wasn't much else to call what they were doing except dating, and after last week – well, there was a reason that Draco had needed to go on a week-long Potions brewing frenzy, and it had been because of one smashingly amazing kiss that Charlie had left him hanging on last Thursday.
"Yeah, it's Thursday," Charlie said, smiling in amusement at Draco as he was drawn back out of his thoughts. "We're going on a picnic. And we've got a bit of a ride, so I hope you're not out of shape."
"Out… out of shape?" Draco sputtered, feeling rather insulted, because he was still in top form, thank you very much, and Charlie very well knew that, because they played games chasing after a Snitch together all the time – and then he saw that the dragon tamer was making a poor attempt at stifling a laugh.
"Brooms won't fly themselves!" Charlie cried, fleeing for the door.
Draco rolled his eyes and followed him out.
"So, where are we going?" Draco asked after twenty minutes of silent flying. He could tell that Charlie was nervous by how quiet he was, and also by the erratic movements of his dragon tattoo, which kept peeking out from beneath Charlie's shirtsleeves and spouting excited little flames.
"It's a surprise," Charlie said, glancing at Draco shiftily.
Draco gave him a pointed look, but when Charlie didn't cave, he shrugged and decided to let him have his fun.
After a few minutes, Charlie slowed, and Draco followed suit.
"I've got to set everything up," he said. "Wait here?"
Before he could respond, Charlie had already begun to descend toward a copse of trees in a small clearing. Draco settled back on his broom to wait when there was a loud whoosh from behind him, and he twisted on his broom to see a massive dragon hovering nearly on top of him.
"Charlie," Draco called calmly, staying very, very still on his broom. He didn't know the first thing about dragon-taming, but he suspected that sudden movements were probably a bad idea.
"Yeah?" the dragon-tamer called back from the ground, sounding unconcerned.
"We, uh, seem to have comp – "
His last word was cut off as the dragon pounced through the air and wrapped its giant claws around Draco's midsection, squeezing most of the breath out of his lungs.
Draco saw Charlie's head turn towards him, and his mouth forming his name, but then the dragon's wings flapped powerfully, obscuring his view as they propelled forward faster than Charlie's old Cleansweep could possibly hope to achieve.
This would be such a fun way to die.
Draco knew that it would be incredibly foolish to try and draw his wand, as dragons were notoriously resistant to magic, and there were anti-Apparition wards over the reserve to keep out poachers. Escape was, unfortunately, not possible at the moment. So, he mostly just kept his eyes closed and focused on breathing.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, during which Draco had been imagining all the different heroic ways Charlie could swoop in and rescue him, all of the blood in Draco's body rushed straight to his head as the dragon went into a sharp dive.
Merlin's best-pressed robes, Draco hoped it would kill him quickly when they reached the ground.
He cracked open his eyelids when the dragon had landed (surprisingly gracefully) and saw that he'd been brought to a rather spacious cave. Piled at the back were several mounds of gold coins, mixed in with a variety of other objects, including several tiaras, a few swords, and a wide selection of necklaces.
With a jolt, Draco realized that the dragon had loosened its claw, and he stumbled away from it, although this moved him further into the cave. The dragon made a snorting sound, releasing a large plume of smoke, and then moved its large muzzle forward to nudge Draco's side, knocking him off balance and straight into one of the piles of treasure.
The dragon didn't seem to care that Draco's behind had not appreciated the landing, and had turned to poke through its hoard, not really seeming to pay attention to him at all.
Draco briefly considered making a run for it, but the dragon's tail was lying directly across the entrance, so even if he tried, he didn't think he'd make it far. At least the dragon didn't seem particularly interested in eating him… yet.
Well, if the dragon hadn't wanted him for an afternoon snack, then what had he wanted him for? Draco watched with narrowed eyes as the dragon continued nosing through its junk, finally lifting out a delicate silver diadem with its claw. He scooted away as the dragon extended its arm, but once his back hit the cave wall, there wasn't anywhere for him to go.
The diadem fell into his lap.
Draco looked at it, then at the dragon, who was watching him almost expectantly. Slowly, Draco picked up the crown, assessing it with quick glances. It was beautiful work, obviously by a master of the craft, and was set with real emeralds.
However, the dragon still looked as if it were waiting for him to do something. Struck by a wild idea, Draco put the diadem on his head.
The dragon immediately smiled, exposing all its ferocious teeth, and its forked tongue lolled out like a pleased puppy. If his mother had been picturing a specific dragon when she'd named him, Draco thought, it was certainly not this one.
Salazar's sharp cheekbones, Draco realized, the dragon wanted to – to dress him up! He couldn't help but laugh at the notion, at which the dragon wagged its tail before turning back to dig through its hoard enthusiastically. Several objects went flying as it did so, just barely missing his head. Now that would be an ironic way to die, Draco thought morbidly.
It only took a moment for the dragon to find what it wanted – a silver and emerald necklace – and slowly held it out to him, dangling off of one claw precariously. This time, Draco took it directly from the dragon's outstretched claw, not waiting for it to fall in his lap — the diadem had been heavy — and put it on.
"Thank you," he said with considerable amusement. The dragon looked positively delighted, blowing several streams of smoke out of its nostrils.
At least the dragon had good taste, Draco thought, as he was brought piece after piece of decorative jewelry. They were all well-made (several had to be goblin-made), and he noticed that it was only bringing him things that were silver and green, despite an abundance of gold all around. Draco approved of this because they were very Slytherin colours, and also because they complimented his skin tone very nicely.
Draco made sure to express his approval with every new piece, since the dragon had appeared to understand him before, and it looked very smug and pleased with itself. He still didn't understand why the dragon had chosen him to kidnap and drape with pretty things, but he supposed if the dragon had to pick anyone, he was the best-looking man on the entire reserve. Probably all of Europe, too, but it wouldn't do to get too cocky.
Draco was beginning to like the dragon, despite the fact that it had kidnapped him, but his stomach was really starting to complain about the loss of the picnic. It had been quite some time since he'd eaten.
"Oi!" Shouted a voice from outside the cave. The dragon's head jerked up, its neck craning around to look at the front of the cave. "Ladon, you got a guest in there with you?"
It was Charlie. Draco gave a quiet sigh of relief, but was a little disappointed in the less-than-heroic manner of his rescue.
Charlie appeared in the mouth of it, and the dragon bounded forward as eagerly as a crup, dipping its head down in front of Charlie, who immediately began rubbing it affectionately.
"Hey, good to see you, too," Charlie said, and then he glanced at Draco, dripping in silver and green accessories, and laughed. "You took good care of Draco for me, I see."
His complete lack of surprise and familiarity with the dragon made something snap into place for Draco, and he spluttered, "You — you did this on purpose!"
Charlie smiled sheepishly and pointed at the dragon. "Ladon wanted to meet you."
"So you let him kidnap me!" Draco flung his arms up in frustration. Several of the silver bangles flew off of his wrist and hit the cave wall. The dragon's eyes followed them, and it made a distressed sound. Charlie looked chagrined.
"I thought it would be a fun - "
"If you say adventure, I will slip some of that dragon-strength muscle relaxant potion into your borscht."
Charlie promptly shut his mouth. The dragon was swinging its large head back and forth, watching them like a riveting play. Draco imagined that if it had a bag of popped corn it would be eagerly shovelling it in its jaws.
"Oh, alright, fine," Draco said, and Charlie looked hopeful. "It was a little bit fun. Ladon here has good taste, I suppose."
The dragon preened. Draco hadn't thought that was a thing dragons did, but he found himself completely unsurprised by it, now.
"He does," Charlie said, eyeing Draco appreciatively. "You look gorgeous."
"Of course I do; I'm a Malfoy." Draco waved his hand imperiously, careful not to disturb his bangles. He was feeling rather fond of the jewelry now, even if it was a bit over the top and felt like someone had dumped their entire Gringotts vault on him.
"Any chance you brought along that picnic?"
Charlie smirked, drew his wand, and the entire thing appeared on the cave floor.
"Oh, good, I'm starved," Draco said, sliding down the treasure-pile and onto the checkered blanket. The dragon gave a great sigh as Charlie joined him, and looked at them mournfully, jutting its lower lip out and widening its eyes for effect.
What a drama queen, Draco thought, not feeling the least bit guilty as he grabbed half of a sandwich, but as he was bringing it up to his mouth, a small jet of flame shot out of the dragon's jaws very precisely, leaving his sandwich charred and completely uneatable.
"Rude," Draco said, glaring at Ladon, who huffed a petulant spurt of smoke and turned away, folding its arms crossly. Charlie, however, laughed.
"I've got more food, you two, honestly."
He waved his wand again, Summoning a roast pig to appear in front of the delighted dragon, and they all happily dug into their picnic.