Heart's Desire

The four sixth-years stared at each other as Dumbledore left. For once, even Draco was at a loss for words.

"I feel really, really sorry for the world," Ron began airily, flinging his arms back in a nonchalant stretch that earned him incredulous looks from Harry, Hermione, and Draco, who definitely felt that this was no time for relaxation.

"And why is that?" Draco snapped irritably, his fangs glinting briefly in the dim red light pulsing softly from Fawkes's wings and tail.

Ron gazed sidewise at Draco, looking smug. "'Cause it's got to put up with you as a 'Protector', Malfoy. From what I've seen of you and your family, you'd rather watch it burn than ruin your good looks saving it." The line was delivered teasingly, but there was true malice buried beneath the taunt.

Draco was silent, his eyes sparking hate at Ron. Still, he had walked right into that trap, and his expression admitted it. But buried beneath that outward resentment, there was self-satisfaction. He had found a cure for his curse.

"Oh, come on, you two," Hermione began, her voice shrill with tension. Looking suddenly embarrassed, she quickly cleared her throat and continued in a more normal tone. "We've all got to work together now, or else You-Know-Who will just keep gaining power until he's undefeatable."

"Hermione is right," Harry said in a strangled sort of voice. "We can't afford to fight each other anymore," he said gruffly, avoiding Draco's eyes.

"Well, Potter, I'll credit you with one thing," Draco said cuttingly. "You certainly know when to put aside your own feelings for the greater good," he sneered. "Perfect Potter."

"Don't give me a reason to terminate my truce with you before it's even begun, Malfoy!" Harry snarled.

Draco let it drop. "And what about you, Weasley?" Draco said quietly, shooting Ron a poisonous glance. "Can I trust you, or should I use a Barrier Charm on myself before I go to sleep at night?"

Ron glared at Draco. "Fine. Fine, then. Truce, until this is over. But not forgiveness. I won't forgive you for all you've done."

Draco returned the glare. "Very well then, Weasley. Truce," he snarled.

An awkward silence fell in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes had been asleep, but at Ron and Draco's vehement argument, he had awakened with a start. Seemingly unable to fall asleep again, he glared sullenly about the room in silent reprimand. Harry got up abruptly, turning his back to Draco, and began to stroke Fawkes absently. Ron got up as well, and began pacing about the room. Hermione left her chair, and began to look at the books on the shelves, her complexion noticeably much whiter than normal, and her hands, which were pressed together, trembling slightly. Draco remained in his chair, inspecting the Sword of Slytherin.

The pictures of the old headmasters, hanging on the walls, watched with mute interest the different ways in which the four vented their confusion and tension.

* * * * *

"ContraCurse Potion," Akira Ishida, the pleasant Japanese replacement for Professor Snape, repeated, glancing at Dumbledore. "What do you need it for?"

"One of the Slytherin students, Professor Ishida. One Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore replied.

Ishida's black eyes sparked faint concern. "If I may ask," he began in a soft, accented voice, "what is it that ails Mr. Malfoy so that he would need a ContraCurse Potion? It is difficult to brew, and most of the ingredients are not things Professor Snape has in his private stores."

"The Bloodlust Curse, cast by a dragon, placed on Malfoy's ancestor, and passed down to Draco through over a thousand years of Malfoys," Professor O'Sullivan said flatly and concisely.

Ishida sighed. "This makes it even harder," he said as he got up and began to sift through his bookshelves. After a moment's search he pulled a book from the shelf and flicked through the pages, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

"ContraCurse: cast by Basilisk... no, that's not it... ContraCurse: cast by chimaera... ContraCurse: cast by dragon. Here it is," Ishida murmured. "The ingredients for this potion are dragon blood, human blood, the leather of a dragon's wings, ashes from a dragon's fire, powdered unicorn horn, hair of a veela, a single moonstone, and the blood of the one affected with the curse. The only ingredient Professor Snape has in his private stores is powdered unicorn horn," Ishida announced. "And human blood and Draco's blood are on hand. But dragon blood, dragon wingskin, hair of a veela, dragonfire ashes, and the moonstone will have to be obtained."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course."

As he left the dungeons, Dumbledore reflected uneasily on Severus's position. The visit to the dungeons had brought back vivid memories of the bitter professor, and Dumbledore wondered how he was faring. Frankly, Dumbledore was surprised that Voldemort had let Severus back in, and kept him for nearly two years. Voldemort had not permitted Snape to return to Hogwarts, which was rather suspicious. It seemed to indicate that the Dark Lord did not trust Snape enough to allow him to stay in Hogwarts, so close to the influences of Dumbledore. Yet then why did he allow Snape to remain at all, if he did not fully trust him? Perhaps Voldemort had his own uses for Severus.

* * * * *

When Dumbledore returned to his office, holding a few sheets of paper Ishida had given him listing the ingredients, it was to find three of the Heirs scattered around the room, looking mutinous, with their backs to the Heir of Slytherin, who was still where Dumbledore had left him.

"I think it's time for the 'all for one and one for all' speech, Maureen," he murmured to O'Sullivan.

"Quite. Carry on, Albus," she replied.

Dumbledore put the papers down on his desk, and the two professors seated themselves. Slowly the four sixth-years did the same.

"I want to warn you," Dumbledore began mildly, "that if even one Heir does not cooperate with the others, we will not be able to vanquish Lord Voldemort. The prophecy dictated quite clearly that we will not triumph if all four Heirs do not fight together."

Instictively, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked at Draco condemningly.

"What?" Draco protested.

"Oh, sorry," Ron said, not sounding sorry at all. "But it seems that you're the only one in here that would possibly do such a thing."

"Quiet," Draco snapped.

"Do I look like one of your house elves, Malfoy?"

"Shut up," Hermione said sharply, looking at Dumbledore, who had an "I'm waiting" expression on his face.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said gravely. "It seems, Mr. Malfoy, that the world's fate currently hinges on you, as our other three Heirs are quite willing to do all it takes to save it."

"But did the prophecy guarantee victory over Voldemort if all four of us fight against him?" Harry asked.

"That depends on whether or not you believe in preordained destiny," Dumbledore said cryptically.

"I think that's a no."

"Gee, what tipped you off, Malfoy?" Ron said sardonically.

"Don't provoke me, Weasley," Draco said shortly.

"Mr. Weasley, please," Dumbledore, who had been watching Draco's expressions carefully, said. And the expression that was now on Draco's face was, Is this worth it? We're not even assured of victory. Where do my loyalties lie?

"I think I will let you think over this for a few days, while Professor O'Sullivan and I go asking around about these ingredients for the potion," Dumbledore said. "I think classes should be over by now, so you should return to your common rooms. Leave your swords here for the moment- I will take care of them."

Silently, the four obeyed, laying their swords on the desk, then turning to exit. As Draco made for the door, Dumbledore said quietly, "A moment please, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco halted in his tracks, and watched almost helplessly as the other three and Professor O'Sullivan filed out of the room. After a few moments, he quietly returned to his seat. However, Dumbledore could not possibly miss the way Draco's hands gripped the sides of the chair.

"I sense conflict in you, Draco," Dumbledore said mildly.

"No shit," Draco muttered, living up to his sixteen years by inserting an unsavory word into the sentence. Dumbledore ignored it.

"You really don't know if you want to fight Voldemort, do you?" Dumbledore continued shrewdly.

Draco shrugged noncommittally.

"You're letting you father put words into your mouth, Draco," the headmaster said. "Think for yourself for a while. Think what it is you are. Think what it is you think about things. Above all, think of what you want."

Draco stared.

"I won't force you to make your decision now. Get the cure to your curse. Go with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Decide on the way. Maybe you'll find out that there are some things worth fighting for," Dumbledore said cryptically.

"Sir, you're talking in circles," Draco said irritably. "You're very, very confusing."

"And you are dismissed," Dumbledore retorted benignly.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Draco headed down to dinner, feeling drained. However, the gnawing, struggling urge within him was gone, and Draco assumed that the curse within him had been sated. For now.

"And thank God for that," Draco muttered, as he took his customary spot at the Slytherin table and stared blankly at the tabletop.

"Oh Draco, you don't look well at all!" came a simpering voice that Draco immediately identified as Pansy Parkinson, the irrepressible Slytherin ditz.

Sod off, was Draco's immediate thought.

"Hello, Pansy," was what he said instead. The words came out thicker, and in a duller voice, than he'd thought they would.

"But you look sick!" Pansy fussed, hanging awkwardly off his shoulder. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfr-"

"I'm fine," Draco said, perhaps a little more forcefully than was necessary. "I think you should sit down now."

Pansy pouted, but obeyed, just as Dumbledore rose from his seat.

"About the announcement I made on classes ending early on Friday," Dumbledore said, his deep voice ringing around the hall and somehow having a calming effect on Draco, "I'm afraid that that will no longer be necessary. Classes on Friday will run as scheduled."

There was a chorus of groans from the sixth and seventh years.

"But-" Dumbledore began again, "I think you are entitled to know what we were planning to do on Friday afternoon."

Draco's jaw threatened to drop, and he supported it with a hand. Surely Dumbledore wasn't going to tell the rest of the school-

"Surely some of you have heard the legend of the Heirs of the Four Founders?" asked Dumbledore mildly.

There erupted a spate of whispering in the hall at this pronouncement, and Draco tried to look puzzled as well. He noticed that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to look inconspicuous as well.

"On Friday, we had planned to find the Four Heirs, who should have been in the sixth or seventh year," Dumbledore said. "These Four Heirs, according to a prophecy recorded by the Four Founders, should be able to defeat Voldemort." Draco saw many people flinch at the name. "But ending classes early on Friday is no longer necessary- we have already found the Heirs."

The whispers swelled into an incredulous roar as people twisted in their seats to try and discern who the four were.

"I feel you should be entitled to know who these four are, so that you can give your heartfelt support to them," Dumbledore said, with a meaningful look at the entire Hall. "Gryffindor's Harry Potter, Ravenclaw's Hermione Granger, Hufflepuff's Ron Weasley, and Slytherin's Draco Malfoy."

Nobody looked surprised when the first three names were announced, but when Draco's name was said, a sudden hush fell over the entire hall, as hundreds of eyes fixed squarely upon Draco. The Heir of Slytherin's first reaction was to wither beneath the crushing gaze, but he quelled his embarassment, and stared back at the rest of the school with a boldness he did not feel.

He could read the thoughts of the hundreds by looking into their eyes.

We're doomed.

Draco got angry.

Why did everyone automatically assume that the world was lost because Draco Malfoy was one of the Heirs? He'd prove that he could help save the world, instead of 'watching it burn'. His contrary nature surfaced immediately, wanting to dispel the stereotype that Draco Malfoy did not care. And then maybe he wouldn't always be scorned, and he could have a destiny, a place in life...

Like Potter.

Draco turned and glared moodily at the table, while hoping fervently it wouldn't burst into flames. And eventually, Dumbledore steered the topic away from the Heirs, and began the feast.

Draco couldn't eat. Just looking at the food made him sick, and with a sudden resolution he got up and strode from the table, heading towards the exit.

He was aware of the hundreds of eyes upon him, and somehow subconsciously aware of the muttered whisperings and rumor-swappings... but he really didn't care anymore. He just had to get out of there.

Glancing askance at the Gryffindor table, he noted Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking steadily at him, with a uniform expression that read, He looks like he's going to crack.

And what pissed Draco off most was that it was true. He was exhausted.

But he didn't head for the Slytherin common room. He felt that if he went in there, he would immediately be swamped by myriads of Slytherins demanding explanations. Slytherins who were faithful to Voldemort.

Wandering through the quiet hallways, he felt a sense of peace filtering through his tired body and infiltrating every part of him, relaxing his tensed muscles. He hadn't walked aimlessly like this for a while now- he had always assumed a purposeful air.

Lost in thought, dreaming awake, he glided through the halls like an absent-minded wraith, only pausing when a glint of silver caught his eye from a darkened room.

That looks like a mirror.

Slipping through the half-open door, he sidled over to the great mirror. It was tall, its ornate gilt top brushing the ceiling, and it rested on two delicately carved clawed feet. An inscription was carved around the top of the frame.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

It didn't take Draco long to figure out that the message was written backwards, and he read the new inscription with a wondering tone in his voice.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire?"

Wondering what that could possibly mean, he let his eyes sweep the mirror again, around the curving frame, saving the actual reflecting surface for last. The frame was beautiful in a stately sort of way, but it was nothing to what he saw in it.

Draco leapt back a few paces before he could catch himself. Heart pounding, he forced himself to look into the eternal depths once again.

He wasn't alone. There were others in the room.

But as he stood there for several more moments, he slowly began to realize that this was impossible, that the people in the mirror were not really there.

For what possible reason could Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have to come up to the school?

But there his parents were, standing behind him, along with countless others. Some were from school, some were relatives, but all were people he knew.

And all of them looked upon him with love, respect, and acceptance. His father, for once, did not look cold, aloof, or condemning- in contrast, he was beaming at his son. His mother looked everything a mother should be- warm, supportive... and there was a look about her face that suggested she actually cared about him. Similar expressions rested upon his other relatives' faces- the faces that usually wore nothing but calculating looks, as if trying to measure his worth.

The people he knew from other places wore a different expression from that of his relatives, yet it was no less unpleasant. It was acceptance, and respect, and everything he yearned for from those he knew. For the first time, he felt as if he belonged.

He was barely aware of his hands, pressed against the cold glass. He felt he could simply lean forward, and fall through the mirror to reach that world beyond. Seconds ticked by, then silent minutes, as his eyes slowly unfocused, and his muscles relaxed, one by one, and the wild racing of his heart slowed to a stumbling walk. The powerful ache in his heart grew, and he could not check it. Yet he did not feel anything when his heart splintered beneath the strain, driving jagged bits of painful emotion through his chest.

Love, acceptance, admiration, respect. These were his heart's desires. Yet the mirror would only show the single thing he desired most... but what was that?

And as he continued to gaze into the faces of the people in the mirror, the whispering wind from an open window tracing its ethereal fire over his body and bringing the scent of the outdoors into the musty room, he murmured to himself the answer.

"Love. To love, and to be loved. That is what I desire," he said in the voice of a boy sleepwalking through a pleasant dream. "But will I ever get it?"

"That depends," came an all-too familiar voice from the door.

The spell broke, shattering into a thousand glinting pieces. At the same time, his heart hastily resealed itself in a wall of ice.

Draco spun around, nearly losing his balance, and came face to face with Hermione Granger.

The Slytherin's grey eyes narrowed to silver slits. "What are you doing here?" he hissed in pure chagrin, a faint bit of red tinting his high cheekbones.

The Gryffindor shrugged. "I could ask you the same question."

Draco let a single glinting fang show in an expression of careless malevolence. "Did you follow me?"

Hermione flinched slightly. She couldn't be blamed for that- Draco looked almost forbidding, standing straight in long black robes that accented his paleness. His fine, silvery hair fell into his slightly slanted eyes, and both slim fangs were showing now. In fact, he greatly resembled a cornered cat.

"Yeah, I did follow you," Hermione said grimly, regaining her wits.

Draco sneered bitterly at her as he turned slightly to lounge against the mirror. "Why?" he shot bluntly.

Hermione smiled slightly. "You didn't see yourself. You looked pissed. You looked... distraught. Worried."

Draco drew a blank for a split second as his wits scattered to the four corners of the earth. Hastily collecting them back, he said, "And why would you care?"

Hermione blinked. "Why wouldn't I care?" she snapped.

Draco sneered. "You. Hate. Me," he enunciated clearly, as if Hermione was a three-year old.

Hermione was taken aback for a moment by the intensity of Draco's bitterness. "Look, Draco," she began, before being stopped by her own mortification at her slip, and Draco's incredulous voice.

"You mean you've decided to start calling me by my first name now? Either you have hit your head on the way here, or you feel really sorry for me."

Hermione was silent for a moment, dwelling over her slip. Could it be those teenage hormones were finally kicking in? For Draco was definitely worth arousing one's hormones. In fact, objectively speaking, Draco was better-looking than either Harry or Ron...

The Heir of Ravenclaw snapped off that train of thought quickly before.... before what? What was wrong with thinking about Draco like that?

He's an evil bastard who's done terrible things just because...

Because what?

"What did you see?" she said abruptly.

Draco was taken completely off guard. "What?"

"In the mirror. What did it show you?" She made her voice take on a gentler tone. "Harry told me about the time he saw it. He told me it shows your heart's desire."

Draco stared appraisingly at her for a long time. Hermione was just beginning to feel uncomfortable beneath his piercing gaze when he finally said, "I see you walking out the door and leaving me in peace."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and shot sparks. "I'm not playing around here!" she snapped. "What is it you want?" she continued, in an 'I can help tone'. All her hate towards him seemed to have evaporated, for she'd seen a brief flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that betrayed the fact that there was another side of him- a scared sixteen-year old, like her. She wanted to get to know that other side of Draco, for some urgent reason- possibly even the same reason that had caused her Freudian slip. Or maybe she simply felt that Draco needed to be given a chance. Maybe he could change. Maybe she could too.

Draco's eyes flashed. "I want..." he began hesitantly. His mind seemed to have shut down, and there was an odd ringing in his ears. The room blurred, but Hermione stayed in sharp focus. "I want to be..."

Hermione merely watched him silently, her eyes betraying nothing.

A silence so deep it could have been cut by a knife settled as Draco struggled for words. His mind was blurring- a waterfall of different emotions was cascading behind his eyes. He was trying to hold back, to keep from saying it, but a strange, sudden sense of intense pressure in his mind caused him to blurt out the truth to her.

"Anything," he finished quietly, startling her slightly.

"Anything but lonely."

* * * * *

"Where has Hermione gone?" Harry said irritably as he and Ron left the table. "She just leapt up in the middle of dinner and scooted off somewhere. I've got a bad feeling about this."

Ron shrugged. "So have I. Invenio!" he muttered, invoking the Locator Charm and locking it on Hermione. "She's in some room somewhere on the third floor," Ron said. "I dunno what she could be doing there, the library isn't on that floor."

Harry suddenly had a terrible thought. "Ron," he began slowly, "when did Hermione leave?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno."

"Was it after Malfoy left?"

Ron stared. "You don't think.....?"

But already Harry was using a Locator Charm of his own, locking it on Draco. "Ron," he said quietly, "they're in the same room."

* * * * *

Hermione stared skeptically at Draco, who was swaying slightly on his feet, looking completely exhausted.

"Lonely," she said concisely, squinting at him, as if determined to reveal him a liar.

"You heard me, Granger," Draco said in a muffled voice which sounded very mortified. It was an I-can't-believe-I-said-that voice. "Now get out of my sight. I gave you my answer."

Hermione stepped forward. "I can't leave you with this mirror," she said unsteadily. "Harry told me what happened to him when he stayed with it too long."

Draco exploded. A dusty curtain nearby burst into flame as he snarled, "I don't give a shit what Harry told you! Get the hell out and leave me alone!"

Hermione leapt back a full foot before she regained her wits. Sending a jet of water at the curtains to put out the flames, she began shakily, "You're more trouble than you're worth, Malfoy."

Draco's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Damn straight. Leave then, before I lose control again. Next time, it might not just be a curtain that burns."

Hermione smirked, an unusual sight. "And why would you care?"

Draco spluttered indignantly. "Don't use my words against me, Granger!"

Thankfully, Hermione was spared further conversation by the noisy arrival of Harry and Ron.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped, as he and Harry drew their wands. "What are you doing?"

Hermione blinked innocently, opening her eyes wide. "Having a verbal battle with Malfoy, as always."

Harry stopped short, his face going pale. "That's the Mirror of Erised..."

Draco sneered as he turned towards the mirror, stroking the frame possessively with a slender, elegant hand. The expression on his face turned slightly deranged as he looked into the mirror, and his eyes seemed to reveal flickering hints of his soul, trapped in an everlasting nightmare.

"That's right, Potter," Draco purred, not taking his eyes from the images he saw.

However, Harry saw something in the mirror that was very different from what Draco saw.

From the shadows at the bottom of the mirror, demon serpents coalesced slowly, burning eyes and glittering fangs forming first. They entwined themselves about Draco's reflection, glaring with cold eyes at Harry, as if daring him to try and take their prey from them.

Harry shuddered involuntarily as an unseen ethereal fire ran its cold length along his back.

"Malfoy," he began, his voice cracking and soaring. Clearing his throat, he continued. "Malfoy. Get away from that mirror."

Draco ignored him.

Striding forward, Harry seized Draco by the shoulder and spun him around. "That mirror will destroy you."

Draco stared at Harry, cold fury masking his features. "Get. Off. Me."

"No," Harry enunciated, just as flatly as Draco had. "We need you."

Draco began to laugh.

The sound was unearthly, like negative phoenix song- cold, chilling, and devoid of feelings or warmth.

"That's amusing," Draco sneered. "Very amusing. The famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, needs the twisted, evil bastard Draco Malfoy, the dragon of evil faith."

"Malfoy, you stupid prat, don't you have the will to resist the mirror? You really are weak," Ron snapped.

Ron's words had the desired effect. Malfoy's eyes, clouded with black, cleared slightly, and for a moment, confusion and fear could be seen in them. "Weakness... Father will kill me..." he whispered in abject terror, and it was clear that his wits had left him- he would never normally have said such words in front of his enemies.

Hermione came forward then, and, to the great surprise of everyone in the room, took Draco's hand. Nothing but sympathy could be heard in her voice.

"Come on, Draco. Let's get you away from this mirror."

Harry, his jaw dropping, released Draco's shoulder. Draco, looking as if a piano had just been dropped on his head, allowed Hermione to lead him out of the room. There was a dazed look on his face.

Ron stared, flabbergasted, at Harry. "Did you just see...."

Harry closed his mouth, and nodded.

* * * * *

Hermione had no idea where she should go. She didn't want to take him to any of the common rooms, and there was nowhere else to go. Draco didn't look up to offering any suggestions, however. He still looked thunderstruck.

Finally settling for the out-of-order girl's bathroom that was coming up, she led Draco in, and shut the door.

Thankfully, Moaning Myrtle wasn't in- it appeared she had been flushed again. Pushing that unpleasant thought from her mind, Hermione turned to look at Draco.

"Hey," she said sharply, flicking a few drops of water from the dripping tap into his face. "Snap out of it."

Draco jerked back from the water, and retreated to a corner.

"Why'd you do that?" he said quietly, and Hermione could tell from his tone that he didn't mean the water-splashing.

"Ron already said it," Hermione said succinctly. "We need you. I think you should get some rest. Forget the mirror."

Draco looked over his shoulder at her. "I can't forget the mirror," he said quietly, repressing a shudder. "But I won't go back. You have my word on that."

Hermione snorted. "What good is the word of a Malfoy?"

At this, Draco seemed to regain some of his old personality. "The word of a Malfoy is inviolable," he sneered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And for a moment back there I thought there was another, better side of you. But you really should get some sleep, you look terrible."

Hermione brushed past Draco, and opened the door.

"Oh, and Granger," Draco began, "next time you want to have an intimate talk with me, please try not to take me to a girls' bathroom. I have my male pride, you know."

Hermione snorted. "And for a minute I was worried you weren't really male. I suppose I'll have to catch you unaware someday to really find out for sure. But the coast is clear now anyway, so you can leave without damaging your male pride. Nobody's going to see you."

She left the door open and turned the corner, heading to the Gryffindor common room.

As she walked, Hermione mulled over her emotions. Why indeed had she been so soft with Malfoy?

Because, a voice in the corner of her mind whispered, you've seen another side of him that you want to get to know. The vulnerable side, the side that screams, 'I'm cute, love me'. Besides, dearie, there's always that funny pressure you get in your mind whenever you see him...

Hermione shook her head violently to clear it of the gathering cobwebs of doubt, and ran the rest of the way to the common room.

"Chimaera," she said dully to the protrait of the Fat Lady. As the entrance swung open, she thought savagely, Malfoy, damn you, you're much more trouble than you're worth.

* * * * *

and that's chapter three right there. if you haven't noticed already, this is where i say, "the hell with capitalization!" and throw the rules of grammar out the window. about the 'dragon of evil faith' thing draco talked about, the name draco means 'serpent', or, more accurately, 'dragon', in latin. malfoy is a compound of the two french words 'mal' and 'foi' (spelled in older french texts 'foy'). mal means 'bad' or 'evil', and foi means 'faith'. So draco's name essentially translates to something like, 'a dragon with evil faith'.

as always, review please.

-celeste