Dragon of Glass

Dragon of Glass

Disclaimer: I do not own the Malfoy family, nor do I own any of Ms. Rowling's carefully crafted characters. However, this story is mine, so please don't take without asking.

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Slivers of pale morning light crawled into the spaces on the brilliantly carved mahogany door. Swirls and indentations combined to create the sculpted dragon carved there. The dragon guarding the entrance to its master's room was awakened by the sunshine. Awakened, not called into being, for this dragon was already alive and filled with character and soul. Power radiated from its hooking curves and stately design. Fire escaped from its fine neck, its wings opened in endless flight, ever ready to descend on the sleepy village below it.

Its sheer magnificence called the people out from their invisible homes, pulled them from their hidden beds, yearned for them to arrive to witness its awesome power. Yet, when they were settled there watching this dragon, fear consumed them for they knew that they had made a powerful mistake. Arriving at this destination only led them to their deaths, burned and crushed by the dragon's massive jaws. However the dragon was not evil, not malevolent or malicious. It did not hate its fellow creatures; it simply did as it was taught. For evil is not born unto a being, it is an acculturated trait, an acquired taste, a learned behavior. A dragon, this dragon did not choose to hunt and kill his prey. It was a life chosen for him, predestined to be a hunter. This dragon was not meant to be scorned; it was simply surviving on a diet of tradition.

Light was now streaming from the window inside the room, spreading and meeting every corner, nook, and cranny. It slithered about the room, finally penetrating the crimson and silver bed curtains that encloaked the dragon's master's sleeping form. This form was a boy, an adolescent really, who seemed to sense the warmth from the light and instinctively rolled to his side to avoid it. But, this boy couldn't escape it, so he pushed back his luxurious plush coverlet and swung his legs to the side of the bed.

The boy swept over to his dresser to find something suitable to wear for the day. But, before he dressed himself, he stopped in front of his full-length mirror, admiring what he saw. His eyes first delved within themselves. They were a steely gray, yet beneath their cold exterior, there was warmth, a glow proving the existence of a soul. For the eyes are the window to the soul. His eyes then traveled downward to examine the rest of his reflection. His curly blonde locks pushed delicately into his brow line. His bed head was actually very becoming of him. His hair was soft and fine, but easily tamed by the gel he had used since childhood. He carelessly pushed it back revealing the strong face and flawless skin. It was almost like porcelain, flawless, pale, and smooth to the touch.

Stepping back a few paces, he took in the rest of his statuesque features. He wasn't very tall for his age, but his slender torso made him appear taller than he was. He ran a long finger down his arm, smoothing a stray line of tiny blonde hairs. A small smile appeared on his lips and in it was a hint of his slyness. The youth was a tricky one, sly and devious at times, but not many knew the side of him that was hidden at all times. The side that appreciated some of the finer things, the side that carried some compassion, and the side that was eager to please.

Suddenly, a sparkling, dancing speck of light caught his eye and carried it to the ceiling. He followed it for a moment, another smile surfacing on his lips, before turning to find the source. There it was, sitting on his desk, his prized possession. It was a small glass dragon, similar to the one on his door, wings stretched and teeth bared. When the light had caught it, rainbows appeared in its small form and reflected on the ceiling. The boy crossed to his desk and picked it up gingerly, cupping it in his hands. Some days he wondered why he hadn't charmed it to be alive like the many other figurines in his bedroom. But on a day like today, he remembered why. It was because it was so different and unique, like him.

He sat down on his silver shag rug, taking care of his dragon, and remembering the day he had received this gift. His mother and father came home late that night, tired from a day of slumming in a small Muggle town. It was close to dawn, when the boy heard a faint knock on his door. His father stepped in clutching the glass dragon. The boy was fascinated by the brilliant shine the dragon gave off. "It is a gift for you my son, my dragon. Treasure it always," he had said. "Your namesake, my Draco, always keep it safe." His father had insured its longevity by muttering an Unbreakable curse over the dragon, so that should it fall, it would still be fine.

Draco had treasured his dragon since that moment. He brought it to school with him each year, taking special care to hide it from his roommates. They wouldn't understand the special meaning it carried for him. So he hid it on his own small dresser drawer in his dorm room. But, at home it was proudly displayed on his desk, radiantly catching sunbeams and bouncing them back at the ceiling. Draco lovingly replaced the glass on his desk and got dressed. He chose a pair of black pants, a white T-shirt, and a pair of silver-gray robes. Just as he was finishing, his father opened the door to his room.

"My son, I have a surprise for you. Come, sit down." Draco joined his father on his bed, looking interestedly into his father's eyes. "My son, as I know you're aware, your 18^th birthday is right around the corner. It's a special day for you because you become an adult that day. But, that day is even more special because it will be the day for your Marking. The Dark Lord is very eager for you to join our noble cause, and I know you are eager to participate as well."

"Father, of course I cannot wait! You know I've been waiting for this day my whole life!" "That's my boy." His father swept him into a hug. "I know you'll make me proud. Well, after we've eaten, I believe it's time for you to get some school supplies. I did notice that you were not made Head Boy this year, but that's all for the better. It would be too suspicious if the Head Boy were not always in school. Now, come along, I want to get going."

Draco took one last quick glance in the mirror and glided out the door. He walked past the many family portraits glaring down at him and smiled. He had grown up in such a luxurious home and was used to their eyes being on him as he traveled. It was one of the things that came with being from a respectable old wizarding family. Reaching the more recent photos, Draco began to smile, because soon he would be joining the noble ranks of these fine wizards by becoming a Deatheater. It truly was something he was preparing for his entire life.

He finally reached the dining room and took his seat across from his mother. A barrage of house elves tiptoed meekly in, carrying breakfast in their quivering hands. One seemed so nervous that she dropped a plate of eggs. Draco's father fixed an eye on her and she gasped. She deposited the plate on the table and scurried out of sight. Draco stifled a laugh and dug into his griddlecakes.

"Narcissa, be a dear and make sure that elf is punished correctly. I don't want anything like that ever happening again. Perhaps she can fold the laundry, if you catch my meaning. Draco and I shall be heading to Diagon Alley this morning. See if we can't find something interesting in Quality Quidditch Supplies. The captain of the Quidditch team deserves a proper broom." Draco smiled his sly smile and put down his fork. "I'm ready when you are father."

"Excellent, we'll be on our way then. Ta ta my dear." Lucius and Draco excused themselves from the table. They left the mansion and stepped into their private carriage. It was rounded, with little metal stairs that appeared for them to climb in. The carriage was crimson and silver, like Draco's bedroom. The two Malfoys sat down on benches across from each other. Draco turned his head to watch the landscape roll by as they headed to the Alley. Lucius watched his son contentedly, thinking of all the great things the boy would accomplish for their cause.

Within minutes, they had arrived. They descended their stairs like kings, slowly and refined. Lucius looked in disgust at the dreary little sign labeled "The Leaky Cauldron." Draco voiced what his father was thinking. "It's too bad that this is the fastest way to Diagon. I hate walking through that place." Lucius smirked a little and pulled his son through the drab little boarding house. He tapped the bricks and then they were on the diagonal street. Draco dragged his father over to the Broomstick storefront. There in the window was the world's best broom.

"Father it's the latest model. Ten times better than that ruddy Firebolt of Potter's. The Quicksilver. What do you say? Can I have it?" Lucius paused, humoring his son for a moment. It was a talent he had, making people wait until he was good and ready. "Of course my son. It's yours." All dignity forgotten for the moment, Draco hopped up and down like a madman and raced in the store. However, one quick look from his father returned him to his casual, almost bored state.

About an hour later, Draco clutched his Quicksilver to his chest while his father carried the rest of his supplies. Normally, it would have definitely been the other way round, but it was a special day for Draco. They returned home in the same silence that had left it, comfortable and content. The moment they reached Malfoy Manor, Draco raced from the carriage to test out his new broom. He soared off into the sunset, with his father watching proudly from a distance. Narcissa joined him and both smiled at their son.

"Just look at him, my dear. Isn't he magnificent? He'll be a terrific addition to our order," said Lucius, drawing his wife into an embrace. "I quite agree. Mon dragon." They watched their son fly until late in the evening. When dusk was rapidly turning to night, they called him back. Too tired to eat dinner, Draco returned to his room and said a quick goodnight to his dragons. He climbed back into his bed and promptly fell asleep, dreaming of his future as a member of Lord Voldemort's innermost circle. He slept with his devious smile on his face that night.