Warm But Tainted Blood (Drarry)

chapter four

The infirmary is quiet when he awakes. There are a few other students there– Harry can't recognize them, though. It's dark, almost midnight, he'd say. Harry then decides that he would like to spend the rest of the night in his own bed, thank you very much. He knows that it's not what people want from him– he's sure Malfoy has already given a statement of the events that occured the night before if he's up and deemed well enough, but they'll want one from him, too, and likely wouldn't want to have to hunt him down for it.

But Harry is tired, even though he's slept the evening away, and he just almost died and he thinks this newest traumatic experience is excuse enough not to be told what to do. With that, he rises from his bed and makes the long walk back to Gryffindor tower.

The common room is almost empty when he arrives, and he'd much prefer it completely void of life but Fate is a whore who hates him so of course it's not. Two redheads are huddled by the fireplace together, muttering over some blueprints that Harry can't see completely. He recognizes them, if only by smell, from the train station. Some of Ron's family, though that doesn't narrow it down much.

Harry tries to silently slip past them into the dorm room, but the small squeak of his shoes cease their muttering. They both turn back to him, and Harry so shocked to find they look identical.  The memories of the train station come flooding back to him now– Ron's older twin brothers. Fred and George, if he remembers correctly.

For one second, Harry thinks that they're going to talk to them, and he'll have to lull through minutes worth of dull conversation and small talk that no one gains from. But it seems the twins saw the look of utter exhaustion on his face, the down demeanor he held, and decided his time would be better spent sleeping. They both give him a small wave and turn back to their plotting.

Harry decides he likes Fred and George.

He walks to his trunk, counting everything, ensuring every one of his precious items are there. It's a ritual he's had since forever; he does not want to misplace the few things he owns. He nods in approval once noting everything is there. He brings the invisibility cloak up to his face, inhaling deeply. It is his most valuable item. It is magical and the only thing he has left of his dad. (It is everything.)

As he falls asleep that night, he recalls vaguely that the cloak smelt different– like herbs, citrus, and dirt, but it is such a small thought and it is forgotten before the morning comes.

¶∆¶

The day passes, albiet slowly. He is all but worshipped. He spends most of his morning giving statements, and the rest of it getting filled in on Malfoy's condition (the word is he would've died if Harry didn't get him out from under the bookshelf) and on the general condition of the wizarding world. There are stronger wards set up around Hogwarts now, and the castle is placed under a complete lockdown where only letters and packages can come and go (to ensure no dragons can get in), and reports all over the country of mysterious dragons making their way to Hogwarts.

Harry plans to talk with Malfoy as soon as he is released. He's overheard him talking about his extensive family library, and Harry thinks that it is a better place than most to look into the runes. But word is people all over the wizarding world are looking into the mysterious symbols to no avail, so Harry doens't let himself get his hopes up.

There is something so odd about the situation that is bothering him, including a conversation with one of the first Aurors who heard his story with the second dragon. He had furrowed his eyebrows and asked: "Are you sure the Boggart transformed into the dragon's fears?"

Harry had nodded, a bit confused as to why that would be questionable.

The Auror's response is muttered, but to Harry it is as loud as a scream: "Boggarts are only supposed to respond to human fears."

The entire situation is so very odd and Harry refuses to take it at face value.

He tries to distract himself by flying his broom– he has long since abandoned his little corner of the library that is all but useless to the growing mystery that is the Dragon Epidemic– and it is one evening full of dangerous twist and dives that makes Harry become acquainted with one Oliver Wood.

He is waiting, sitting on the grass, for Harry to dismount his broom. Harry notes Oliver smells faintly of broomstick polish and clover. "Harry bloody Potter!" Oliver yells the second Harry's feet hit the grass. Harry does not think it is a proper greeting but them decides greetings were never designed to be proper.

"You're Oliver Wood, right?" Harry asks. He had heard about him, if only through the grapevine. He's very into some sort of wizard sport that Harry had no real interest into looking into.

"Correct!" Oliver exclaims. He slings an arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry frowns at the non-consenusal friendly gesture. "Have you heard of Quidditch?"

"Yes," Harry says. It is a lie but Oliver did not need to know about that. "What about it?"

"Usually they don't allow first years to try out for the team," he gives a wide smile, "but I'm sure they'll make an exception for someone with talent such as you. Consider showing up for the tryouts?"

"I'll think about it." Harry won't. He gets the impression that Oliver is a bit much for his taste, a little too loud and energetic, and he already has a lot to think about.

Oliver laps up his lies like they are honey.

∆¶∆

Harry Potter is told by Hannah Abbott– who was apperantly told by Albus Dumbledore himself– that he is to meet at the Headmaster's office after supper. He is too anxious to eat; his nerves swelling, at reasons he cannot understand, at meeting the old wizard with a white beard tucked into his belt.

∆¶∆

When Justin Finch-Fletchley wakes up, it is hours before he notices the faint symbol on his palm. It looks like faded ink, and it seems so insignificant– perhaps like he had drawn with pen on his hand and forgetten about it– that it completely slipped his mind to try and wash it off.

He has a vague memory of that night of someone walking into his dorm– someone who is only heard but never seen. They cast a spell on him and leave immediately after. The memory is so vague he dismisses it as a dream, his mind unwillingly to try and explain away the unexplainable.

That night, he is visited by another wizard, this one no bothering to hide their apperance, and wakes up a few minutes later on the shore of the sea surrounding Britian as a dragon.