Papillon

21 - le saphir

C H A P T E R 2 1

Draco

They flew high above the clouds, softness of white brushing Draco's cheek. He had his arms wrapped around Harry's waist, his head resting upon his shoulder while imagining they were flying on something else than a Norwegian Ridgeback — miles above the ground. The dragon had carried them out of London, left the cityscape behind to exchange it for a mountain view. For a moment it seemed as if they were in Scotland again; as if Hogwarts' castle could doom up out of nowhere if they only looked hard enough. However, they were nowhere near Scotland, and Draco believed none of them truly had a clue of where they were.

Their flight seemed to last for hours, and soon enough Draco felt frozen to the bone. Harry's body was shivering as well, his breathing rapid. He couldn't see Hermione and Ron from where he sat, but he knew those two were probably freezing just as much.

When he thought the dragon would never land again, it suddenly leapt down, a large lake appearing from underneath the clouds. 'We have to jump!' he heard Hermione shout. He caught a glimpse of her finger pointing at the lake beneath them, only a few more feet away. Draco sighed deeply. Not again. 'On my sign!'

As the dragon lost height, the lake came nearer — seemed to grow in size and sparkle more brightly at them. 'Now!' Hermione shouted, and immediately she and Ron let themselves fall off the large creature. A sudden panic overcame the blond as he watched his friends fall. He felt frozen; by the cold, the dragon and the nearing fall. What if the water isn't as deep as we think it is? What if we get hurt? A fast beating heart. A hand tightly grabbing him by his arm; dragging him along. Draco closed his eyes while he felt adrenaline rush through his veins.

They landed with a loud splash, sinking towards the bottom for a few seconds before swimming upwards towards the sky — following the tiny bubbles, his eyes now opened wide. Draco took a deep breath as he reached the surface, his frozen limbs slightly warmer because of the movement but cold by the lake's water at the same time. The others were panting as well, already swimming towards the nearby shore. 'Come on,' Harry encouraged, swimming alongside him with the sword of Gryffindor still clenched in his hand.

Why does it always have to be water, Draco wondered as they let themselves fall down upon a muddy shore. He utterly detested getting wet, yet it seemed to be a returning and unavoidable theme whenever he was around the boy. And not to mention falling. Talking about Harry, he seemed to have struggled the most with swimming the little distance. The sword laid deserted next to him, his eyes closed and his chest rising more rapid than ever. 'Ça va?' Draco asked, his voice sounding hoarse of the cold.

One green eye opened up, stared in Draco's direction. Harry nodded his head, then closed his eye again and sighed deeply. 'We have the sword — and a horcrux,' Ron stated out of nowhere. The ginger-haired boy was staring at the lake in front of him, a blank look on his face.

'Indeed,' Hermione added to it. 'Let's change into some dry clothes and get going, for I have no clue of where we are right now.' She looked around her, let her eyes rest upon the dragon in the distance; drinking some of the lake's water on another small shore.

'I can cast some drying spells as well, if you want?' Draco proposed, and Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

'Still, we should change as drying charms leave clothes a bit damp. And I'm not willing to wear these robes any second longer.' Hermione indeed looked a bit silly in the dark robes; they were nothing like Draco would ever imagine her in.

Standing up again — a bit wobbly from having seated on top of the dragon for so long — Draco pulled his wand from his sleeve. A moment he waited, his eyes staring at the piece of wood he almost didn't recognize as his own anymore; the gold was almost all gone, the sapphire he loved so much as well. What had happened to it? It doesn't matter, he thought to himself, before casting perfect drying charms on all of them. Although they were perfect, Draco still could feel that something was different; something about the magic that had erupted from his wand felt different. Was it because he had been possessed by an evil force? Because he had given his wand this new worn-off look? He had no idea, and no time to think about it either. Everyone's hair frizzled a little at the blow of a magic wind, their clothes indeed still the tiniest bit damp. Draco wanted to get out of the black robes just as eagerly as Hermione, and if he could, he would never wear the damn color again.