Chapter Text
The glass panes of the large windows of Hogwarts’ Library rattled loudly.
Draco stilled his quill and lifted his gaze from the parchment under his nose to look around, and, sure enough, there were other students looking left and right, confused and alert. That was too strong to be just the wind. All windows at Hogwarts had powerful endurance and protection spells on them to guard against storms - and other things, recently. It would take a lot more than a mere gust to rattle them this way.
It was lunchtime, and Draco had the next period free, so he’d taken this opportunity to work on a Charms assignment he needed to deliver the following week. This task was N.E.W.T.S. level, and he knew it would take more than a couple of hours’ research to get it done. He’d even considered asking Granger for some advice on the subject. A mere few months ago, this would’ve been an unthinkable option, but a lot had changed this school year.
Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the school had opened a program to allow those who’d lived what would have been their 7th and last year of school during the war to officially finish their curriculum. The program wasn’t mandatory, and because there weren’t an awful many, all of the 8th year - as they called it - students had been compiled into one single class, and Houses were foregone - a good thing considering that Draco was the only returned Slytherin and was an outcast even among the new Slytherins. Things hadn’t been easy at first, and Draco had been shunned from all sides - nothing that he hadn’t expected to begin with, but still an unpleasant complication.
Shockingly, Granger had been the first to bridge the breach and reach out to him. Although “bridge the breach” sounded like a grand gesture, in truth, all she’d done was greet him and speak to him as if he were just another regular student, not someone who’d scorned and insulted her almost all throughout school. Everyone had been stunned - Draco included - but after the initial shock, they’d all quickly adjusted and started greeting him as well, and the harshness in their tone slowly melted away. Then there’d been varied work assignments where the 8th years had been paired off - most of them at random to reinforce the school's new motto of inter-House cooperation - and Granger happened to be paired with him a couple of times.
The first one had been a veritable shock to his system. While Granger had seemed determined to treat him no differently than anyone else, Draco had been at a loss - he hadn’t known how to act around her. He’d been awkward - scared shitless, to be honest, of what the witch could do to him and his life should she only wish it - and his contributions had been little more than one-word sentences and nodding along to her suggestions. That is, until Granger finally lost her temper.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, will you stop that?! I swear, if I hear another “Whatever you say, Granger.” come out of you…!!! I’d rather have you calling me a Mudblood than standing there in the corner, muttering my name like a useless, frightened, first-year! If you don’t start actively contributing to this assignment, I will tell the Professor!” She yelled.
And that was it, she’d pushed him so far that he was forced to react and push back. If she went to the Professor, he’d be done for - the ice layer he was standing on was too thin to withstand even such a weak blow. They’d expel him for sure.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Granger? An excuse to have the school cast me out. You want my contributions? Fine! Your idea is basic at best! Sounds elaborate on the surface, but there’s nothing innovative about it!”
Oh, they’d argued after that…a lot. And then argued some more at the next meeting. They’d had to start Muffling the rooms they worked in so passersby wouldn’t get the wrong idea. But despite all of these setbacks, the result of the assignment was an astounding success, and after they got their perfect score, Granger found him in the hall with an outstretched hand for him to shake.
“What are we doing here?” He’d asked, looking at her hand dubiously. She’d rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but he knew now that there was no real sentiment behind it.
“Godrick, do you have to make everything so complicated? It’s called a handshake, Malfoy. You did good work. I did good work. So let’s shake on it and congratulate ourselves like two normal, rational wizards.”
He’d twisted his mouth to the side as he reluctantly returned her gesture, but he too didn’t really mind her antics anymore.
“Whatever you say, Granger.” He’d said on purpose just to get on her nerves.
“Careful, Malfoy. My warning still stands.” She’d fired back, but there was laughter in her eyes.
The second time they had to work together went a lot smoother than the first. He wasn’t afraid of her anymore after all the poking they’d kept doing to one another, even after the first assignment was done - he’d been forced to admit, at least to himself, that he actually enjoyed their verbal sparring.
But then things started getting awkward. Even looking back, Draco couldn’t pinpoint what had been the starting point - probably somewhere around that one time when Draco had settled his hand over Granger’s, to illustrate a point, and she hadn’t recoiled or removed her hand from under his. On the surface, they were working better than ever, but something had felt increasingly off. Until Granger, being Granger, lost her temper again and confronted him about it. And ever since then…
The ground shook.
Not enough to topple the shelves but certainly enough for everyone to feel it under their feet, and a few seconds later, a howling screech pierced the air. What in Merlin’s name…? Was that a dragon?!
The screech got everybody moving - some towards it and others away from it. It hadn’t been a conscious choice, but before he knew it - and against all common sense - Draco was already rushing towards the sound. He ran past a balcony with an open view to the fields around the school - the field where many students had been lounging in, catching some precious rays of sun - and then skidded to a halt. Because crouching on that open field was an enormous Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon - the largest dragon breed in the wizarding world!
Draco was sure of this because he’d always had a sort of fascination with the species that was his namesake. There was no mistaking those metallic silver-grey scales and large wings. But the dragon seemed to be in terrible shape. Even from this distance, he could tell the creature had countless scars, and from the way it kept swinging its head around with every new sound, it seemed to be visually impaired.
Students were running away screaming manically, and this was only visibly adding to the dragon’s distress. But then someone’s voice rose above the others. Draco looked towards the ground where the dragon stood to see who was the suicidal moron who was walking towards the dragon - instead of away like any other sane person - and the breath caught and froze in his chest.
It was Granger.
Granger was the suicidal moron who kept getting closer to the beast!
Has she lost her fucking marbles?!!!
Again, he didn’t think. The next thing he knew, he was already speeding down the stairs that led to the fields. When he got as close as he dared, he shouted.
“Granger! What in the blazes are you doing?! Get back here! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
Granger stopped and looked back at him, but then turned and just kept walking with her arms outstretched. She was talking to the dragon, but it was too far and against the wind for him to catch the words. Whatever it was, she now had the creature’s undivided attention, and Draco’s blood ran cold at the sight.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly lowered its humongous head in a slow reptilian motion until it was level with Granger’s, and Draco felt faint, certain that he was about to witness the horrifying death of the Wizarding World’s Brightest Witch, and all because that lunatic woman got the notion - for reasons he couldn’t comprehend - that she could talk to a bloody dragon!
He reached for his trouser pocket and considered drawing his wand, but… Then what? You draw it and do what, exactly?! It would take more, far more, than the spells of one wizard to produce any noticeable effect on a beast of this size - even the Goblins at Gringotts had had to employ drastic measures to contain one of these. There was nothing he could do. No defense or attack that could stop the creature from reducing Granger to ash or swallowing her whole if it so chose. No, the best card he could play was to not make any sudden movements that might agitate the beast. And he hated himself for being so useless.
He heard rushed steps and several voices behind him and dared to look back - the Professors were getting close - but when he turned around, an even more unthinkable sight awaited him.
Granger was touching the dragon!
Wait, no…she wasn’t just touching it, she was climbing onto the dragon’s back!!
Draco felt his mouth hang open and even considered rubbing his eyes, because surely - surely! - he had to be hallucinating! There was no other logical explanation. Any moment now, he would snap awake to find that he’d fallen asleep on his parchment and this whole thing had been a ludicrous dream. But for now, the dream carried on with its outlandish developments.
Granger had settled between two of the many, large and dangerously pointy spikes on the dragon’s back, and before Draco’s - and now the rest of the school faculty as well - stupefied persona, the Ironbelly stretched its mighty wings and pointed its head to the sky. With a strong vault of its two meaty legs and a beat of its wings, it was airborne and quickly getting farther and farther away from the school grounds.
The whipping crack of the air was so loud he had to cover his ears, and the rush of wind that hit him was so strong he nearly toppled back. And now Draco was forced to admit that he was, in fact, wide awake, and a dragon had, truly, taken off with Granger on its back.
Salazar be damned! A bloody dragon just ran off with my girlfriend!
-
Draco stood frozen in the same spot, staring blankly at the sky where the silhouette of the dragon was shrinking by the second.
Someone entered his field of vision, and he finally understood that he was being talked to - loudly.
“Mr. Malfoy!” Shouted Headmistress MacGonnagall, in a rare show of disconcerted emotion, as she held him by the shoulders and shook him. “Mr. Malfoy, it’s best if you go back inside.”
She looked to the side, somewhere behind him, and spoke to whoever was there. “How long until the Aurors arrive?” Aurors? This snapped Draco back to reality. They were going to wait for Aurors? By then, it would be too late. They would’ve lost sight of the dragon - and therefore Granger - completely. It would take ages to find them, and by then it would probably be too late. Granger would be chewed and digested by then!
He made himself sick with his own imagined gruesome scenario. No. They couldn’t afford to wait. Granger had hours at best.
Draco shook off MacGonagall’s hands, finally pulled his wand out of his trouser pocket, and wordlessly accioed two heavy coats and his Firebolt. Before anyone could predict what he was planning or stop him, he’d already donned one of the coats, shrunk the other to fit inside a pocket, and bolted up in the air, giving chase to the Ironbelly.
The wind carried MacGonagall’s voice as she called out to him, but it was too late. This was the best course of action. Draco had a trace on him due to his singular circumstances, and the Aurors would be able to track him wherever he went. So all he had to do now was not let the creature that had taken Granger - his bloody, insane girlfriend! - out of his sight.
He couldn’t let her die, not now that they’d finally been able to move past all the things that had seemed like insurmountable differences a mere few years ago. Months! We’ve had months, for Salazar’s sake!
Their relationship was all still so new and fragile that most people didn’t know about it. They weren’t hiding it per se, but they weren’t flaunting it either. Ginny knew because Granger had needed someone to talk to when things started shifting between them, but Potter and Weasley still didn’t. Draco had told his mother there was someone he’d become enamored with, but had asked her not to pry until he could be more certain of where this was going. But of course, people at school had seen them walking around while holding hands, the easy, harmless banter and smiles. And there was no missing the way they’d started, always sitting down together for their meals. There’d been a few pecks in the halls too, but kisses - real kisses - were left for private moments.
Sometimes it still amazed Draco that this could be them, that they could fit so perfectly together - whether they were bickering or just sharing a comfortable silence. He would gently talk her down when she got too incensed and passionate about something, and she would call him out when he acted or said something elitist and snobbish. They’d had some arguments, especially where it concerned his ingrained bias and racism, but beneath their raised voices and at the end of the day, they just wanted to find that middle ground where they could meet. And if his stance or opinions were too radical, Granger would give him this devastatingly sad look before she removed herself from the conversation.
Their first big fight had been like that, and at the time, Draco had still been too proud to chase after her immediately. It had taken him a couple of days of mulling it over and turning her words around in his head - while she made sure to keep her distance from him - for him to understand how serious something like this could be. How it could be the beginning of the end for them. He’d stupidly even considered that it might be for the best - that they were ill-suited after all - but soon realized that he didn’t know how to be around her without getting that close anymore. Without being able to simply touch her whenever he wanted.
On the evening of the third day after their fight, he’d broken down and asked a passing Longbottom to call her out of the Gryffindor common room. He’d bowed his head and apologized profusely. He’d begged her to please understand that he would do better, be better, but it wouldn’t always be easy, and he asked her not to give up on them anyway.
“Be your stubborn self and don’t let me get away with it. Keep pushing, but just don’t push me away.”
He’d seen it on her face, clear as day, that she hadn't expected him to take his words back and apologize. Her eyes had filled with unshed tears before she’d crossed the distance between them and allowed him to hold her again.
Their other fights had followed a similar pattern, but he’d gone after her far quicker, and they’d always find a way to find that middle ground. Though to be honest, she’d always been the one in the right thus far - his opinions came largely from his upbringing, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d been taught many wrong things and twisted ideals growing up. It was an uphill journey, but he was making progress.
After some months, he could even say he’d come to develop a cordial relationship, if not an outright friendship, with most of the other 8th years. Heck, even with the she-Weasel!
All of that! He wasn't about to let it end because of some random dragon who decided to drop out of the sky and steal his witch.
-
Holding on to the dragon’s spike in front of her for dear life, Hermione could no longer feel her fingers from the cold wind. Her mind just kept chanting on loop.
This was a terrible idea! This was a terrible idea! This was a terrible idea!!!
The wind was cutting at her cheeks. Godrick, I wish I could’ve at least brought a coat! But there’d been no time for that. There’d been no time for anything, really. Barely even enough to think.
She’d been sitting under the shade of a tree, enjoying a quiet moment on her lunch break, when the Ukrainian Ironbelly had landed on the field with a groundshaking thud and a deafening roar.
At first, she’d tried to run and get back inside the castle like everyone else, but then she’d taken a closer look at the beast, and as soon as she’d seen the scars on its body and the milky pink eyes that should’ve been a bright crimson, she’d recognized it immediately. It was the same dragon that she, Harry, and Ron had used to escape from Gringotts 3 years ago.
To be honest, she’d found herself thinking about this dragon a lot of late - perhaps due to her close relation with a different kind of silver dragon. At the time, and even now when she thought back, it had disturbed her greatly to see how the creature had been treated and tortured by the Goblins. No living thing deserved to live like that.
Harry had broken off the chain that was nailed to the wall, but even after their breakout of the bank and the dragon had gone free, the iron collar had still been around its neck, along with a few iron links, and Hermione had been plagued by the thought of what could happen if one of those links got stuck somewhere mid-flight. She’d worried the dragon could have choked to death. When it landed at Hogwarts, she’d noticed immediately that the collar was gone, and this had filled Hermione with relief.
But it didn’t explain why the beast had come to the castle.
It didn’t attack anyone - even though the Ironbellies were considered to be extremely dangerous and aggressive - and just swung its head from side to side as if it were listening out for something, or looking for someone. And suddenly, inexplicably, and perhaps recklessly, Hermione had been completely certain that the dragon was looking for her.
She had no logical or rational explanation for this. No guarantee that the Ironbelly wouldn’t simply eat her when she’d stood in front of its maw. Instead, she mustered all of her courage and asked the creature if it was here for her. If it needed something from her.
Draco, Merlin bless him, had come down to the field to get her, but instead of making her retreat, his presence only made her more determined. She had to be right! And she had to keep the dragon’s attention on her so it wouldn’t take notice of Draco. Something told her that the creature wouldn’t take kindly to his presence.
And so she’d boldly stepped forward and touched the beast. She saw its near-unseeing eyes look down towards where her hand was touching its scales. It lowered its head and shoulders further, and Hermione understood that it meant for her to climb onto its back like in the past. So she did and didn’t look back.
-
Back at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had just apparated outside the school gates - they’d been in headquarters when the message arrived and instantly volunteered to take on the case. Headmistress MacGonagall was there to receive them and hurry them along.
“You must make haste, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley!”
“Slow down, Professor! Your message said that a dragon landed on school grounds, but how is that possible with the barrier?” Asked Harry.
“And who was the student that it took off with? That species is classified as extremely dangerous, and even if they didn’t know that… Who would be so bloody mental as to approach a creature of that size?!” Asked Ron.
MacGonagall stopped dead in her tracks as she turned to both of her former students.
“Please try to remain calm when you hear this…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that her request was futile with news such as this. “The student who was taken was Miss Granger.”
Harry and Ron paled at the revelation, and MacGonagall knew she had mere seconds before they exploded, so she quickly added and turned and continued walking towards the field where the dragon had been a few minutes ago.
“Though I’m not sure if 'taken' is an adequate description. Miss Granger approached and climbed onto the creature’s back by her own free will. The dragon did her absolutely no harm.”
“WHAT?!”
“SHE DID WHAT?”
“Was she right in the head?”
“Has she been going through something that we don’t know of lately?”
She allowed the barrage of questions to continue as they walked. They’d run out and get to the really important questions soon enough. And sure enough, from the corner of her eye, she saw Harry settle a hand on Ron’s arm to keep his tirade at bay and then asked.
“How long ago was this? We’ll need to know where the dragon was headed if we’re to have a chance of finding her. Time is of the essence.”
“I’m well aware, Mister Potter.” She responded curtly.
“Professor, are you sure she was unharmed? Hermione would never be this reckless. Did she seem to be under the influence of any curse?” asked Ron.
“I have considered this myself, Mr. Weasley, but no. She was very clearly conscious and lucid. I saw her talk to the Ironbelly before she climbed onto its back.”
“Wait! A Ukrainian Ironbelly?” clarified Harry.
“That is correct.”
Harry and Ron shared a knowing look before Ron asked.
“Was it heavily scarred and almost blind?”
MacGonagall stopped again and turned to them.
“You know the creature?”
Another shared look, and then Harry sighed and explained.
“Yes. We have a strong suspicion that it might be the same dragon that we released when we escaped from Gringotts a few years ago during the war. Hermione must’ve recognized it as well.”
“But why would it come here? And why Hermione?!” asked Ron.
“There’s too much we don’t know yet. But the important thing now is to find her as quickly as possible. Who knows what the dragon will do when they land… We’ve already wasted too much time as it is.” Mused Harry.
“And how are we going to find her, Harry?! The dragon could’ve gone anywhere! It’ll take days just to track down its path!”
MacGonagall started walking once again. They were nearing the field now, and Ginny Weasley was standing in the middle of it, waiting for them. MacGonagall waited a beat before she revealed the last piece of extraordinary information.
“As it happens, we do have a way to track where they went because a student chased after her immediately when they flew off.”
“And how will that help us? Are we supposed to wait for this student to send us any sort of signal?” asked Ron.
“That will not be necessary. This particular student has a trace on him.”
“You mean one of the younger students did this?” It was Harry’s turn to question.
“No, Mr. Potter. It was one of the 8th years.”
“But the 8th years are all of age. Who would…?” Questioned Ron.
“That would be Mr. Draco Malfoy.”
-
They’d been flying for quite some time now. The Ironbelly rose above the clouds and stabilized its rhythm. The rays of the sun melted some of the ice under Hermione’s skin, and she dared to release one hand to reach for her wand and cast a shield and several warming spells around her. Little by little, she was able to relax enough to enjoy the experience and even started to doze off at one point - this reminded her to cast a rope around herself and the spike so she wouldn’t get thrown off.
Eventually, and without warning, the dragon leaned forward and took a nosedive. Back under the clouds, Hermione saw they were close to a mountain range. She had absolutely no idea where they were, though. But he seems to know. The dragon flew surely and steadily towards one of the many peaks.
As they got closer, Hermione spotted the large entrance to a cave on the mountainside, and it soon became clear that that was their destination. When the Ironbelly turned its wings against the wind to slow its descent and land at the mouth of the cave, Hermione couldn't help but close her eyes shut and cling as hard as she could to the spike.
The landing was so brutal it rattled her bones and would have propelled her forward if it weren’t for the spike. Wings tucked in, the dragon marched inside the cave, and within seconds, they were surrounded by absolute darkness, so Hermione was completely caught off guard when the dragon halted and sank to the ground. Guess that’s my cue to get down.
Not wanting to startle the creature, Hermione cast a soft Lumos - strong enough for her to see what was right in front of her feet - and when her feet touched the ground, she was struck by a sudden wave of nausea, and her legs shook terribly. Leaning against the cave wall, she took a few deep breaths, and when she regained her composure, she turned the light to dragon. The creature was watching her, and it was deeply unsettling.
Then it turned its head away from her, and Hermione followed its gaze. She walked around its snout with her wand lighting the way, and then gasped and nearly dropped it. Because right in front of her, inside what looked like a gigantic bird’s nest, was a single silver-scaled dragon egg.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly was female, and it had led Hermione to its nest!