Opheodrys Vernalis

Author's note: new story, new new new. Beta'd!Story by Arra.

Warning: yaoi.

Disclaimer: Rowling's.

Draco sprawled himself out on his overly large, soft bed. Sighing in earnest pleasure, that he felt was appropriately earned.

To say he was satisfied with himself was an understatement. Obviously, he was very satisfied with his own wit, charm, intelligence and beauty, but then again, he had always been. That's how Malfoy worked. By convincing themselves completely of their own superiority, they managed to intimidated others into following suit.

But today was rather special, even to Draco, who was rather difficult to please. Lucius, the unfeeling and cold man, had praised him for a successfully dealt with assignment. A compliment from his father was worth more than most people could ever fathom. He reached out for the parchment beside him, now flattened out by the number of times Draco had unrolled and read it. It was adorned by a thin, slanted handwriting, the message was short and simple.

« Draco,

I am pleased with your achievement,

but remember, I expect nothing less of you.

Do not disappoint me.

Lucius Malfoy. »

It was very clearly the Malfoy style, approval but not without forewarning. He sighed again, this time the feeling was not of delight but of wariness.

He was glad for his private chambers, the better side of being a Hogwart Head Boy, that and the slightly sadistic pleasure he took in docking off points. He hardly missed the Slytherin common room, as he and his housemates did not share the same close relationship that other Houses seemed to have amongst themselves. Slytherins did not, or could not, trust each other, as loyalty was not a powerful trait to their House. They did not befriend easily, and would not put someone else's desires before their own. And of course, Draco Lucius Malfoy was the embodiment of everything Slytherin.

The boy yawned, fatigue quickly washing over him.

Draco was awoken the next morning by the noise of something tapping against glass. As his brain fought the haziness of sleep, he realized that the noise was coming from the window, and more precisely from the owl banging its beak against it. He did not recognize the bird specifically, only a vague memory of seeing it at the Malfoy manor. They had many owls, so it could easily be one of them. Draco frowned at this, wondering what it could possibly mean. Two owls from home in two days? Highly suspect, and rather unusual. On his bed, the letter from his father was crumpled. Draco swore under his breath:

« Daaamn, I must've slept on it. »

He picked it up, folded it methodically, and placed it in his bedside table draw. He then got up and made a move towards the window pane.

This particular bird did not, however, carry a letter, but a large package. It seemed to be a simple box covered in wrapping paper. He frowned again. It wasn't his birthday. He carefully opened it, and saw a large metal cage inside. The bars were very close together, suggesting that the animal contained within, if indeed it was an animal, was small. The cage was magical, its interior changing to suit the present inhabitant. At the moment, the cage's ground was covered in long grass, twigs and rocks. Searching for some kind of explanation, Draco only found a card, and again it was simple, that read:

« Enjoy this, my dragon.

He's very magically charged, and I thought you might

enjoy the company,

Narcissa.

Ps: He's an 'Opheodrys Vernalis',

friendly enough but cautious. »

'Oh'.

« Honestly! Harry, just... tell Ronald that I'm right. »

The raven haired teenager nodded, out of habit more than anything else. Not really listening to the ongoing dispute between his two friends. But if questioned later, he could explain with acceptable accurateness what it was they had been fighting about, mainly because their arguments were always frighteningly similar or at least dealt with in the same way.

It was Saturday, and they were on their way to breakfast. They definitely liked to rouse late, well... later. Hermione still thought it was a good idea to wake both boys at 9 AM, or one more meager hour of sleep than usual. Because, and she had explained this to a disheveled Ron after the first 'jerking out of bed on the first day of the weekend' experience, they needed the whole two days to do everything.

Everything consisted of (and in Hermione's order of importance): homework, reading, visiting Hagrid, Hogsmead (if it was the right week) playing some chess, and lastly, only if they had time, Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron, (though for them both, the list was simply reversed).

Harry did not mind waking early, he was used to it. He liked spending his free time with his two friends, even if it meant enduring their constant bickering and Hermione's nagging, which this weekend was probably going to be twice as bad. Snape had, out of spite no doubt, set a tremendous amount of homework.

Thinking about Snape was not a good way to start the day, Harry decided. So with a sigh, as they entered the Great Hall, slowly making their way past the different House tables, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, before reaching their own, he let his mind wander.

They sat in silence, Ron and Hermione glaring at each other meaningfully. Harry happily took advantage of the sudden quiet to gaze up to the enchanted ceiling, trying to figure out if it was a flying day. No menacing clouds but no blinding light either, quite the perfect setting, if the weather continued like this throughout the day.

« Perfect. » he exhaled lightly.

« What's that, mate? » Ron, asked, glad to break the stuffy stillness that had settled.

« The weather! For Quidditch. » The brunet grinned, and started to shovel down his food in an attempt to get to the Pitch quickly, hopefully before Hermione could notice what he was doing and thwart his (newly) carefully laid-out plan.

Half way through inhaling his breakfast, he felt a hard shove coming from his left side, followed by a hiss.

« Look! Malfoy! »

He looked up, sure enough, Malfoy and his cronies were entering the Great Hall as if they owned the place. As usual, the blond boy was in the middle of things, by his side Parkinson and Zabini, all smirking rather proudly. But, as Harry considered the group closely, he realized something was odd.

The way Malfoy was walking? He looked awkward, his left arm held out a little too far from his body for it to be completely natural, or even comfortable. And this, of course, triggered Harry's attention.

After Hermione and Ron had finally made up, they turned to their friend, to ask him if he was done. But as they saw him, they decided that he would be better left alone. They had grown to know better than to bother Harry when it was so apparent he was lost in thought, but it had been a while since he had started staring over to the Slytherins.

The other tables were now crowded with fully awake and loud students. Making the view to the far side of the Hall very complicated indeed. The boy wore a dazed look. It intrigued and worried his friends a little. Sometimes, Harry just slipped into some kind of unconsciousness. He wouldn't really respond to any sound, just a little spasm that showed he still registered that there was a world around him. Usually, he just snapped out of it, coming to and acting as though nothing had happened.

These moments could last from five to thirty minutes. This had been occurring an increasing number of times since he came back from the Dursleys'. And also, since then, Harry had been rather shy and closed up. They didn't want to pry, so they had let it go when their black haired friend had insisted that nothing in particular was wrong.

In truth, Harry found real refuge in his head. He would build up a comforting place in his mind, stay there until he could sort his thoughts unto a manageable heap, and then he was ready to face reality again. Afterward, he felt more compliant and accepting toward life. Though this time, as he come to, there was nothing left but confusion in his emerald eyes.