Once Upon A Time (A Drarry FanFiction Collection)

Chapter Eight - Draco Dormiens

Draco Dormiens

Harry was starting to believe he had made a grave error. He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and looked to his fellow travellers as they crested the mountain top. These were men of the sword, trained by great masters and proven on the battlefield. These were knights and mercenaries and warriors.

He was just a potter's son with a borrowed blade and a notion that had seemed plausible as he'd drifted off to sleep, but now, in the harsh light of the sun, Harry was starting to suspect he was stark raving mad.

Desperate times, he reasoned as the dozen or so men navigated the dead and rocky terrain, called for desperate measures. Otherwise a lowly peasant such as himself would never have been allowed to join company with such an esteemed crowd, a fact he was reminded of every few minutes.

"Oi!" a brute of a man clad in shining steel called out to him. His name was Goyle and the Claymore hanging from his back was almost as tall as he was. "You there boy! My steed requires water, give me your skin!"

"Mine has terrible fleas!" crowed his cohort, a man named Crabbe, looming from his beastly ride. "You should be used to picking them out!"

A taller man of more sophistication turned and sneered at the two sell-swords. "Leave the peasant be," instructed Flint. "The dragon will soon make short work of him, and then there will be more of the reward to divide between us."

Several of the other riders shared nervous looks, and Harry didn't blame them. Not only did they have the prospect of a fire-breathing dragon upon them, there was a very real possibility that these three would kill anyone the creature did not devour if they stood between them and the treasure at hand.

Harry slowed his horse a little and let the others plough on ahead, smirking triumphantly. He did not wish to engage in their petty taunts though, preferring to steady his own mind as the grand cave awning came slowly into view. Let them tousle, let them shout and gloat and spit down upon him, he cared not. He had a singular task and he would not be deterred from it.

For many years, all had been well in the kingdom of Slytherin. King Lucius was not a warm man, but he was fair, and he ruled his prosperous lands with his kind and beautiful wife Narcissa by his side. In the same year young Harry found himself brought into the world, the kingdom was blessed with a healthy baby itself, a prince by the name of Draco, and all the peoples rejoiced.

Living in the shadow of the castle's keep, Harry had grown alongside Prince Draco, often catching glimpses of him as he walked the parapets, or on rare occasions, took his escort into the town itself to visit the locals. Harry had never tried to approach the young royal as many had, content to gaze from a far at his pale face and white blond hair, his sharp cheeks and eager smile. Harry's mother had teased him over girls in the village, but to him, there was none so beautiful as the heir Prince Draco.

His eighteenth birthday had heralded a night of celebrations for all, and Harry had cheered with his fellows to see the boy turn man, ready to take on his father's duties whenever the king saw fit.

But the merriment had ended in disaster.

A Dark Lord had risen from the south, demanding fealty from all the lords, earls, and even the king himself. The noble house of Malfoy would not kneel though, and Lord Voldemort had been most displeased. He had sworn his vengeance, but King Lucius had his own faithful sorcerers that he trusted to keep him and his people safe.

It had not been enough.

Before his birthday night was through, Prince Draco had been stolen away, with the promise that he would only be returned once the kingdom belonged to the Dark Lord. Even in their grief, King Lucius and Queen Narcissa would not bow, unwilling to leave their subjects to the mercy of such a villain. That did not stop them however, promising half the castle's riches to whomever bested the Dark Lord and returned their son home to them.

It was soon learned that the prince was being held in a great cave, sat atop the mountain that marked the kingdom's border with Harry's parent's land, the mighty realm of Gryffindor. Men from all four corners of the world, even so far as sunny Hufflepuff and freezing Ravenclaw, braved the mountain in search of the heir of Slytherin, but unfortunately, there was a little more than harsh terrain between them and Prince Draco.

A dragon, as large as the castle keep itself, stood between the knights and their prize. Such a beast had not been seen in any kingdom for a century at least, and no one knew from whence it came, but the demon was now almost certainly here to stay. Half the warriors who dared enter its abode were never heard from again, and those other half lucky enough to re-emerge often did so with charred skin and fewer limbs than when they first went in.

But still, the volunteers came, even though the king and queen's hopes dwindled. It was firmly believed that the prince still lived, but as the land's best men threw themselves forward, only to fall, it became hard to fathom Prince Draco ever returning home.