𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

I

Title: Carpe Draconis
Author: Aoife Malfoy @AOIFENE
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 for violence, language and sex
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure, Humour, Romance, Smut
Warnings: AU, Written before HBP. Post Hogwarts, Second War Era. Draco-centric. Slow paced fic.
Summary: Is it possible to capture a dragon when you suddenly find one within your reach?

Act I.

Oderint dum metuant.

Let them hate, so long as they fear.

“Why?” he asked, his voice soft yet firm, filled with resounding determination. The question had haunted him for more years than he could count and now on their last official day of being Hogwarts students, he felt he was owed an explanation. So he had hunted the prat down and found him, surprisingly, atop the Astronomy Tower, looking strangely serene as he surveyed the Quidditch Pitch that they had battled on for the past six years. It was what made him hesitate to disturb the blond. He had truthfully never seen the Slytherin look so peaceful before, curiously devoid of his usual sneer and haughtiness. It surprised him that the sight was enough to stop him in his tracks and question his actions. It was rare to see his nemesis in such an unguarded moment and he felt like he was intruding. Suddenly, he remembered that this was Malfoy he was talking about and that he shouldn’t give a damn about the boy’s sensibilities when he clearly never gave a fuck about his. And that was why he had seized his objective with a vengeance and stepped forward to make his presence known. But when he called out, his voice had still softened under its own volition, indicating that the vision of the quiet Malfoy had affected him after all.

“Why what, Potter?” Draco Malfoy drawled as he turned to face the Four Eyed Boy Wonder, his silver grey eyes hardening into ice. Clearly Harry’s intrusion had irked him, for if looks could kill Draco might have done Voldemort’s job for him, killing the saviour of the Wizarding World on the spot with his venomous gaze. “There are so many things you don’t know, it could fill up the whole Hogwarts Library so you will excuse me if I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re prattling on about,” he added derisively as he tossed back his head in arrogance.

Irritation bubbled inside Harry as he tried to keep his infamous temper in check. This always happened. He would say something to the Slytherin git and most of the time it couldn’t even be remotely considered as an insult and yet every time Malfoy would throw back a nasty retort which would infuriate him into doing something stupid like punching the git or hexing him and always (always!) when there happened to be a professor nearby. He didn’t know why everyone kept saying he was lucky, well, besides his uncanny ability to escape certain death in the hands of Voldemort a whopping seven times, but he sure as hell felt that cursed was the more appropriate way to define it. Choking backing his annoyance and searching for reserves of self-control he prayed he had, he managed to painfully bite out the question that had been stuck like an annoying splinter in his side. “Why do you hate me?”

It was an uncomfortable pressure that squeezed Harry’s insides every time he found himself the focus of those heated eyes. The unparalleled hostility within them had always shocked and baffled him. Sure, he hated Malfoy but not like that. Even he, as dense as he usually was, knew that half of his fights with Malfoy were an unconscious attempt for him to escape his own troubles, but it was quite obvious that the same could not be said about Malfoy. The git hated him for real.

Widening grey eyes met his query. It was the only indication Malfoy allowed to show that he had heard Harry’s bewildering inquiry. Of all the questions that Potter could have asked him when he caught Draco in this exposed position, he never expected the one that Potter just uttered. A suspicious 'Why the fuck are you here in the Astronomy Tower without your cronies?' would have been more what he was used to. Or even a crushingly sarcastic 'Why don’t you just do us all a favor, Malfoy, and throw yourself over the ledge?' would have equally sufficed. Anything but this dangerous new line of questioning which, coupled with Potter’s unwavering open gaze, was slowly undoing Draco’s feeble attempts of reasserting the usual mask he wore in public. The one he had dropped the moment he stepped into this hiding place. He sneered in retaliation. He was a Malfoy and he would not give St. Potter any more glimpses of the chinks in his armor than that which he had already witnessed. Merlin knew what Dumbledore’s favorite son was already thinking about seeing his moment of weakness.