Chapter Text
"Hermione, we need you."
"What have you done now?"
"You've always liked dragons, haven't you?"
The hall Harry and Ron brought Hermione to with a secret portkey was vast and high-ceilinged. Her first impression was that of a ballroom, with the opulent stucco at the corners and the faded frescos on the walls. It would have been grandiose if it weren't for the small, iron-secured slits that functioned as windows that sent narrow beams of sunlight through. And the enormous, eerily murky puddle on the floor.
But that all took a distant place in the background as Hermione scrutinised the creature in the middle of the room.
"We're still trying to figure out what species it is," Harry said pointedly as he led her further into the room. They stopped in front of large screens of protective wards which separated what supposedly were the safe and the dangerous areas. Behind them, a pale dragon sat on its haunches, its head moving sluggishly, with a slight sway to its posture.
"Just because my brother is a dragon expert doesn't make me one," Ron grumbled from Hermione's other side. She cast him a quick look, but although he had a slim booklet in his hands and a finger lodged between its pages, his speculative gaze was set on the creature. Was he trying to look something up? "The beast made it hard enough to get it in here in the first place. We had to stun it from four sides and then place synchronised portkeys on it to get it here." That explained the sluggishness.
"Would've been easier if we knew the species," Harry muttered.
Hermione nudged him with her elbow. "Is that why you brought me in? I'm no dragon expert either. You might as well have asked Malfoy. At least he has dragon in his name. Why didn't you floo-call Charlie?" The dragon's head wavered in their direction. The wards were probably permeable to audio and visuals.
Harry shot an undecipherable glance at Ron, then looked back at Hermione. "Off to a seasonal field trip."
"And you couldn't find anyone else in the whole of Europe?"
"It's an extended field conference, I've been told. Everyone who has anything to do with dragons seems to be there, somewhere in the midst of nowhere." At Hermione's flat look, he added, "Gobi Desert, right where three of the world's biggest leylines meet. No magical communication possible. And all staff that remained is required to stay on their respective reserves."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Seems like a narrow-minded oversight."
"We'll have to deal with it." Harry ran his hand through his dark hair. As usual, it stuck out worse after that, and Hermione smothered a fond grin. "It's not like we have dragons flying around twice a week," he said. "I can't conjure an expert with fifty years of experience out of nowhere."
"Hm."
"Definitely not a Romanian Longhorn," Ron said, as if that had been the discovery of the year.
Hermione bit her tongue. She could have told them that without a book. Romanian Longhorns were green, whereas that creature was so pale that it appeared silver. Although she slanted a longer look at the work Ron held, she couldn't make out the title. What was it? Dragons for Dummies?
She turned her attention back to the matter at hand. The wards blurred the view a tad, but to Hermione's surprise, they were clear enough to make out details. Did their security department finally take on the warding charm suggestions she kept giving to Harry? Despite the sharp beams of sunlight from one side, overall illumination was scarce, so she was grateful for the additional artificial lights under the ceiling.
In the middle of the rectangular floor, the dragon shifted on its legs. It was easily twice her height and approximately four times as long, if one included the tail. Its back scales were raised, just as the spikes adorning its cheeks and forehead, making it more imposing than its size alone would have done. The wings were extended partly, but not enough for her to fully appreciate the gossamer structure dragon wings possessed. Some species had markings on them which made it easier to specify them. That observation would have to wait until she could see the whole of them.
The cold lighting from above combined with the warm beams of sunshine sent not only a stark contrast between glinting highlights and deep, shadowy recesses, but also an alluring play of iridescence. Just from its colouring alone the beast would be magnificent if it weren't for the duller stretches where it obviously hadn't had a chance to groom recently.
The sharp tips of its ears pointed straight up, twitching in swivels to catch every sound. Dark, deep-set eyes searched across the expanse of the barrier, though Hermione was too far away to discern if the pupils were wide or slitted. Two softly swung horns lay close to the triangular skull, and she wondered if the beast could move them like it could the spikes.
The dragon sniffed the air, then it bared its long, ragged teeth. Around its maw, the hide was dark and blotchy. The remnants of its last meal, maybe. Hermione quickly looked away.
"Any more specific idea than what it's not, Hermione?" Harry asked. Ron harrumphed, but didn't add more wisdom.
Her eyes wandered from the dragon's thick neck to its powerful torso. Small scales made way for bigger ones which in turn seemed to function as covering for more of the small ones beneath. An old, long wound had left a streak of blemished scales which seemed to reach far below its belly. The whole creature looked like it was covered in mother of pearl, including the iridescent shine.
"The colouring fits an Antipodean Opaleye, but the spikes around its head, and its ears are all wrong."
It held its head high, clouds wafting from its nostrils and it bared more of its teeth. The creature was clearly not amused by its confines but it didn't barrage against its surroundings either.
As her eyes reached the viciously clawed feet, she was reminded of the puddles the creature stood in. She looked back over its body and then to its head. A closer inspection imposed a bedraggled look that might have been more than just the stun spells. The gleam of the scales had this certain hint of wetness.
Turning to Harry after she had taken in the expanse of the puddle and the splatters around it, she asked, "Did you hose it down?"
"Eh." Harry grimaced. "We tried. Sort of."
Hermione put her hands on her hips and only barely refrained from tapping her foot.
"We got a good load on it, but then it froze the water in the hose," Harry admitted sheepishly. A quiet snicker came from Ron's direction.
"Not like you had a better idea to get rid of the gore," Harry said to Ron with a raised eyebrow.
"It also froze the water you tried to dump on it from above." Ron guffawed and waved his book. "Told you right then it's no Antipodean Opaleye. They're no ice dragons."
Hermione squinted at the cover of the booklet in Ron's hands. His movements were too fast for her to make out with certainty, but it looked like there were cartoon drawings of dragons on it. She blinked.
"And too small for an Ukrainian Ironbelly. Even if we allow for an unusual pigmentation, this one is positively tiny for a dragon," Harry said, waving a dismissive hand around.
Before Hermione could throw in that the dragon was perfectly average-sized for a dragon, a crunch sounded from the middle of the room. The dragon stared at them, ears flat to its head and nostrils flared. As soon as she realised it had dug its claws into the floor forcefully enough to break it up, she pulled out her wand to check the integrity of the wards.
The creature flicked its head, then it settled back on its hindlegs. Its tail swished back and forth but it finally wrapped it around itself, like a cat would.
"I don't think any of the European species are a match," Hermione said and stored her wand back in its holster as the dragon didn't make any effort to attack them.
"It could be a cockatrice," Ron threw in. A muscle twitched around his mouth.
"Merlin," Harry groaned, "spare us with the wisdom you acquired through Muggle video games."
"What is he playing now?" Hermione asked.
"The Witch," Harry said at the same time as Ron proclaimed, "The Witcher. Beats your ego shooters anytime."
Hermione rolled her eyes at her friends' antics. She loved them dearly, but she didn't want to be caught in another of their discussions about which type of games were better than the others. "Stop it, both of you. Cockatrices have two legs, as wyverns do. This one has four." She tapped her chin in thought. "Maybe a rare Asian species. But it could be from anywhere. There are enough twisted individuals who wouldn't shy away from obtaining a smuggled specimen."
"I have people checking in with magical zoos and circuses. The British and French dragon reserves already confirmed none are missing," Harry said. "I hope messages from Ireland and most continental institutions will trickle in by tomorrow."
Hermione ran her eyes over the creature again. The altering light kept changing the appearance of the dragon from cool and distant to a fiery beast of heat and danger. The bulky scales on its front and forelegs shone a deep orange where the slim beams of the setting sun hit them, though they morphed to vibrant reds and pinks with every little movement the creature made. The back, wings, and parts of the tail, on the other hand, changed from pearly white to icy blue and back again whenever the dragon took a breath.
Hypnotised, Hermione followed the play of its powerful muscles and the soft undulations of its tail. She wished it were safe to walk up to it and glide her palms over its flanks. She wondered how the scales would move under her hands if her fingers followed their pattern slowly. Hermione shook her head to dispel her vivid imagination. Her friends may well have been right when they accused her of an extensive affection for creatures.
As she looked up, the beast had its head tilted. Its eyes glowed in the dim light, but as the last sunlight hit them at the right angle, they resembled a burning inferno. Fitting for a fire dragon, Hermione thought wryly, but not one with an affinity to ice.
"I have to do some research," she announced. "Make sure it gets enough water and food. Meat."
Ron said, "We're not complete idiots."
"You should talk to Malfoy, too," Hermione said. "I'd bet good money that he has far-reaching contacts who know how to obtain rare ingredients. Anything from a dragon, for example. They have to originate from somewhere."
Harry cleared his throat. "Yes… we already tried to get a hold of him, but he wasn't available." He glanced at Ron, then back to Hermione. "I'll put someone on it. Might be on a business trip. Unless you know something…?"
"Why would I?" Hermione said nonchalantly. "We hardly see each other outside of our advisory role for the Aurors."
"You both were at my birthday only a few weeks ago," Harry said. "You barely talked to anyone else all night."
"That was already a few months ago, and you passed out at eleven, Harry," Hermione said. Admittedly, they sometimes forgot their surroundings when they were trading arguments about their foci of interest for hours. Malfoy didn't seem to tire of coming up with new points about why potions were superior to charms. Although she didn't think any of that had been laced with flirting, she wouldn't lie to herself and say she didn't like Draco's voice. She did opt to ignore the memory of his thigh pressed against hers.
Harry shrugged, motioning them back to the door. It effectively pulled her out of memories of other people's thighs. "It was a good party. Besides, Daphne told me most people left by one, anyway."
"No fun without the host," Ron said gravely, but he wore a broad grin. "And we're all over thirty. The sprogs don't care if I go to bed at ten or four. They demand attention at six. You know how Pansy pretends to be dead at that time of day."
"Good that I was snatched from the jaws of that fate," Hermione said playfully and nudged him. Ron laughed and put an arm around her to pat her shoulder.
A ferocious roar from behind the wards made them all whip back to face the dragon. As one, they had their wands out, but a second later, Harry was attacked by a coughing fit that made his aim unsteady. Ignoring her friend's unprofessional behaviour, Hermione stared ahead.
Thick icicles had formed on the other side of the wards. It was hard to tell through the now opalescent barrier, but Hermione could have sworn the creature bared its teeth at them.
Short nights always made Hermione cranky. While her prolonged session amidst several works of dragon research and more general literature about magical creatures had immensely shortened her list of possible species, it hadn't brought her much closer to finding out which one they were dealing with.
She took a deep slug of her coffee. The bitterness was mellowed by a little sugar and a lot of milk. If she were lucky, the energising effect would set in shortly. A fortifying breath later, she scrutinised the heap of creature in the warded-off part of the hall. Under the unkind glare of the overhead lamps, it again appeared cool and distant. Its head lay on its rolled up tail like on a pillow, eyes closed and breath even. Several blankets in a riot of colours seemed to make up its nest. How the beast could sleep so peacefully when she was running on three hours only was unfair. Hermione wanted to snuggle up to it and take a nap, too.
Harry brought her out of her reverie. "The caretakers said it's been behaving. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Must have made a bit of a mess when they gave him the sheep for lunch."
Hermione winced. She knew how unsettling it was to watch her cat, Voidy, devour a mouse, and could only see too clearly how that would be on a much larger scale.
"But it didn't fuss when they cleaned and watered it. It liked the warm water they used. No freezing everything to instant ice this time. I guess the only thing missing was lavender soap or something."
"You let people in? Are you mad?"
Harry gave her a wry smile. "Reptile professionals from the London Magizoo, armoured with heavy protective gear. Seems like dragons are everyone's favourite. The caretakers were positively starry-eyed, and the dragon didn't do as much as hiss at them."
The dragon-in-question opened one eye, then adjusted its position a little and closed it again. A rumble reached their ears.
"So, we can go in? I can cast a multi-layered protection charm on both of us," Hermione said.
"I don't see why not, as long as your charms are water-tight. Ice-tight. Ron will join us in a few minutes, but we can get a head start."
"I just need to get a closer look at its features, maybe take its core temperature, but the spell might not penetrate its scales. We'll see."
The door banged open and Ron rushed it. "Harry, meeting in Robards's office about… Hey, Hermione! Talk to you later," he said and waved Harry with him.
Hermione didn't mind. She cast a series of charms on herself and a door-like opening through the protective barrier before she stepped into the shielded area. Holding her wand at the ready, she neared the dragon until it growled. Its eyes were fixated upon her wand. It took her only a split second to make a decision. Slowly, she tucked it away in its holster, then held her empty hands out to the creature. She knew she'd have the vinewood out in an instant should the need arise.
The dragon examined her, the ridges over its eyes lifting in a surprisingly familiar way. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, but she couldn't come up with a reason why that would be.
As she took small, deliberate steps, the dragon growled softly, but its ears stayed upright and the scales on its back remained down. The wings on its sides were folded, rustling faintly when the beast shifted its stance. Despite being an ice dragon, it emanated heat like a merrily crackling fireplace would in the deepest winter. It allured her to come closer still. Its stance didn't feel threatening, and though she wasn't experienced enough to read facets of a dragon's body language, she wanted to get much nearer.
She glanced at the opening in the barrier. Harry and Ron might be absent for a while longer, but she thought she'd be able to reach the gap quickly enough before her personal shields failed. Nobody was here to guide her—or to set the rules. She'd play it by ear.
Hermione stretched out her hand as she would have with a foreign cat. Most animals were intrinsically curious, thus it wasn't too far-fetched to assume the dragon would be, too. The hissing sounds of a tststs might scare it, or more likely, aggravate it. She refrained from the urge.
And lo and behold, the dragon stretched its neck as far as it could without coming nearer, and sniffed. With a gag which very much sounded like a cat about to barf, it drew back and cast her an incredulous look.
Hermione frowned. She'd never seen such an expression of disdain on an animal's face, not even when she'd once by accident brought her old Crooks the wrong feed.
She brought her fingertips to her nose.
Ah.
Last evening's garlic from her cooking still lingered on her skin. She threw the dragon a lopsided grin and shrugged her shoulders. In response, it issued a sound which seemed a mixture of disgust and a chuckle but that was probably too close to anthropomorphising it.
The dragon shuffled onto its hind legs, head cocked to the side as it watched Hermione shortening the distance until she was within comfortable reach. Its shoulder was still way above her, but she could easily get to its upper legs and flank. The heat now was as if she were standing right next to an oven. Keeping the creature's ears and facial spikes fast in her eyes as it watched her raptly, she inched her hand closer until she almost touched the shimmering scales.
The dragon's head swivelled in the direction of the gap in the magical barricade. Something changed the atmosphere in the room, and Hermione stilled.
An exasperated hiss from Harry broke the heavy silence. "Hermione! What do you think you're doing? Get away from there, right now!"
Over her head, the dragon's head thrust forward, and it let out a snarl. When Hermione turned, she saw both Harry and Ron standing in the opening. Harry had his hands lifted, wand in one hand, but at least he didn't make any quick and aggressive movements which could irritate the dragon. Ron's head appeared behind Harry's shoulder but he ducked quickly. Maybe he was smarter than rushing to her help when she clearly didn't need any.
"I was just getting somewhere, you idiots!" Hermione grit out between her teeth. She took a deep inhale and closed the small gap between her palm and the dragon. The creature pulsed with vitality. Its power ebbed and flowed, almost a physically graspable entity as she had never before experienced it. A surge of exhilaration rushed through her, drowning out her friends' protests.
The surface was much smoother than she'd expected. Dry and sleek, the single scales gleamed welcomingly. The creature must have groomed the earlier dull parts. Now that she was close enough, she saw rainbows running across them. Except for what she supposed was an old scar across its massive chest plates, the scales connected seamlessly. Only small divots were between them. Starting plate-sized at its shoulders, the scales shrank quickly until they reached its knees. On its flank, her earlier impression of coverings protecting smaller scales underneath was confirmed. She ran her hand along the side, luxuriating in the vivid feel of the heady power under her hands and the knowledge that not many people had got so close to a dragon before.
The dragon had become very still, even seemed to have stopped breathing. Hermione stroked over the same stretch of scale once again, with a little more pressure this time. Promptly, the creature vibrated beneath her palm. She chuckled. The sound could only be described as purr coming from its chest.
Before she could repeat the stroke all over again, it jerked away from her and gave her an accusing glare. Hermione tilted her head. She'd never heard about dragon behaviour being similar to cats'. Maybe this specimen was different. Again, she stepped closer and ran her fingertips over the scales. "You're beautiful," she murmured. The protests from her friends had fizzled out by now.
The dragon seemed to elongate its spine, flaring out its wings halfway, but keeping the one on her side above her head. It took Hermione a second, but then she wondered if it preened under her words. Did it get the gist of what she said? Or was it the tone of her words?
"But you're rather small for a dragon," she added, in the same murmur.
The noise that followed didn't sound like agreement at all. The beast seemed to want to move away from her but was met by the back wall of the hall. It angled its wing, and nudged Hermione away until she was only a few metres from her friends. They hadn't said anything in the past couple of minutes but she also didn't want to turn around to check their faces.
Her mind was much more occupied by the impression that the dragon might read the tone of her words, maybe more than that. A thought occurred to her as she scrutinised the creature. "Maybe you've been tamed, and just recently escaped?"
The look of utter horror that met her was admittedly comical, but, most of it all, it confirmed her hunch. The reaction was a clear answer to her words.
The dragon understood her.