Drarry Oneshots

Hiss Hiss, Malfoy

Draco flicked his tongue out from between his scaly lips, basking in the sun as his the tip of his tail twitched. His black tongue twisted in the air, and he revelled in the sweet taste of a summer afternoon in the Kew Gardens, West London. Sighing internally, he stretched out on his rock to maximise the exposure from the rare, hot sun.

Listening to the muted sounds around him, children laughing, parents calling, bees buzzing, Draco rejoiced in the lack of anyone spitting at him, calling him names. Cursing him. Having finally gotten tired of the constant slurs, Draco had put his heart and soul into becoming an animagus. Eleven months later, here he was sunning himself as a Black Mamba. He often laughed to himself about his animal form. Snake by name, snake by nature, it would seem.

Shouts. His body tensed as he heard the angry voices draw closer, surrounding his rock. Lifting his head, Draco peered down and saw some red-faced Muggle boys glaring up at him. Scoffing, he withdrew and relaxed. His serenity did not last long.

Flinching, he curled around himself as the first rock hit his side. Cringing from the pain, Draco reared up and swayed blindly, hissing at the teenagers, whose faces quickly bled of colour but they determinedly held up their stones. One of them drew back his arm and launched it at Draco.

He managed to flinch away fast enough to miss the first but the second rock caught him in the neck. Coughing as well as his snake body could manage, Draco retreated to the middle of his rock, hunkering down and praying they'd just leave him alone. They still hurled the rocks at him, although less actually hit him.

Then it all stopped. Draco hesitated for a beat before poking his head over the side once again. After all, curiosity only killed cats. What he saw stunned him so much he almost slipped off his perch. Coiling around to reaffirm his position, Draco looked again, but the scene was the same.

A tanned man with messy black hair was gripping two of the boys by their ears as he glowered at the rest. He seemed to be in the middle of a rant, so Draco tuned in to listen.

'-Plete idiots. Not only could you have hurt that poor snake, but if it had decided to strike back the lot of you wouldn't have stood a chance. I've a good mind to set him on you for this. Now bugger off and if I see you hurting a snake again, I will let them get you.'

He released the two boys' ears and they fell to the ground, whimpering. Their friends had already scarpered by the time they lifted themselves off the ground to flee. The man sighed and shook his head before turning and meeting Draco's eyes.

Unbelievable. Why was it always Potter? With his scar, and his eyes, and his hair, and his smiles. Why couldn't he leave Draco alone? When Potter took a slow step towards him, Draco skittered back, wary of the pain those boys, the Wizarding community, and Potter, and Potter, had caused him.

'It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. Can I come closer?'

Crap. Potter's a Parselmouth. Draco would have screamed in frustration if he had been able to. Eyeing the earnest man suspiciously, Draco nodded slowly. Smiling in relief, Potter approached. He drew out his wand, which had the snake flinching again, but Potter only waved it around and Draco felt cloaking wards falling around the two of them.

'I can heal you, if you'll let me.'

Draco stiffened in fear. He didn't want any wizard pointing a wand anywhere near him for the rest of his life, thank you very much. Potter noticed and backtracked.

'Or I can just take you to my house. There's food and water, and you'll be safe, I promise.'

Knowing that Potter's proposition was genuine and by far the best option for him now, Draco still deliberated for a few moments, just on principle. He sighed and flicked his tongue out, tasting the air and Potter's scent. Treacle, the musty smell that comes from leaving clothes in your wardrobe for years and then digging them out, and broomstick polish.