The Dragon Games

Hermione had just finished explaining to Ron about Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise. He stared at her, his eyes wide in horror and concern for her.

"They cursed you?" Ron asked, bewildered. "How long have they been attacking you?"

"Since this summer," she admitted softly.

A flash of disappointment ran across Ron's eyes, but he stayed calm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione sighed, feeling guilt rush through her. "I thought I could manage it on my own. And I was a little upset at you for not telling me about what Percy had to say."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said, looking down at his tattered shoes. "I really just wanted to forget about what Percy had to say. I'm not the hero type; Harry is. I'm just... well, I'm just his sidekick, I guess you could say."

"Ron, you're not a sidekick!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked and appalled that he felt that way.

Ron shrugged easily. "It's not that big of a deal, Hermione."

"Yes it is, Ron," Hermione said, on the verge of tears. "You mean the world to me, okay?"

He smiled softly. "Don't cry, Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "It's just, I've been a horrible friend. I shouldn't have kept this from you; you would've been able to help me through it."

Ron nodded. "It's okay now, I promise."

She held his hand and they stared at one another for a moment in silence. There was a cough from another bed and Ron jumped slightly.

"Madam Pomfrey is sending me up to Aiyana," Hermione said.

"Good, she'll be able to help you sort this out."

"I hope so."

"Hermione, do you want to know what Percy told me?" Ron asked, looking a little frightened.

"Only if you want to tell me." She smiled calmly.

"Okay," Ron started. "Well, it has to do with the Prophecy books..."

---

Two hours later, Hermione found herself walking up a flight of concealed stairs that led up to the Headmistress's office.

She knocked on the door and heard two women inside stop speaking. The door opened and she saw Rosaria Snape greeting her. The Headmistress's office was neat but cluttered, and more than half the portraits on Aiyana's wall were completely empty. She turned to see Rosaria fidgeting with a small scroll.

"Come on in, Miss Granger," Rosaria beckoned, smiling.

Hermione stepped inside and found Aiyana seated at her desk.

"We'll just continue to discuss this at a later time, shall we?" Rosaria asked.

"Yes, of course," Aiyana smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled. Hermione narrowed her eyes curiously. That seemed oddly familiar.

Who does that remind me of?

"See you in class, Hermione," Rosaria said with a bright smile before leaving through the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

"Have a seat," Aiyana offered, scooting her chair back to have a better look at her student.

Hermione sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking attentive as if she was getting ready for a teacher to begin class.

"Are you feeling better?" Aiyana asked.

She nodded. "Yes, much. Professor, I think I know who's doing this to me."

"Oh," Aiyana said, listening intently. "Who?"

"Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise," she listed. "They've got some sort of vendetta on me. I'm not sure why."

"Don't you?" Aiyana asked, and again her eyes reminded Hermione of something that she could not place a finger on.

Hermione went quiet for a moment, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. "I have an idea, but I really can't be certain. And I have no idea why I'd be in them," she said sheepishly.

Aiyana smiled. "Innocent and so modest, Miss Granger."

"You think I'm in the Prophecies, Professor Aiyana?" she asked, stunned.

"My dear child," Aiyana said softly. "You are friends with the greatest boy who ever lived. You even surpass him in your cleverness. Do you really think there would not be a prophecy about one of Harry's greatest assets?"

Hermione's cheeks turned from pink to red in embarrassment. "I-I, um..."

Aiyana chuckled. "Do not worry Miss Granger; self-confidence is nothing to be ashamed of."

She didn't know what to say, so she watched the headmistress silently, shifting in her seat.

"Now, if we believe that the reason these three are after you is the prophecy," Aiyana said, "then we can safely say that you need protection." She stood up. "I know a few spells that I can place on you myself. And I'm very sure that you will be witty enough to come up with a few of your own. But I must warn you." Looking serious, she said, "Do not be alone in a room with them. I will ask Miss Parvati to escort you when you are in your dormitory, and I'm fairly certain Mr. Weasley will be more than honored to escort you to your classes."

She pulled open a cabinet and retrieved a spell book. "I believe you may find this one useful."

Hermione took the leather bound book with its faded gold lettering. "Thank you, Professor."

"So you're clear, Hermione?" Aiyana asked.

"Yes, I won't end up alone with them."

"Then you may run along. I'm sure Mr. Weasley is expecting you for dinner."

Hermione smiled and thanked her again, but her hand froze in midair as she reached for the knob. An idea had struck her.

"Excuse me," she said, turning around.

"Yes?" Aiyana asked. As her piercing blue eyes twinkled up from her paperwork to Hermione, it hit her.

She knew exactly who Aiyana reminded her of.

---

At seven-thirty, Hermione made her way down from Aiyana's room in an odd mood. She had just uncovered something huge, but she had promised to keep her mouth shut. She wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all this news, but she couldn't. Not without putting Aiyana into danger.

She found Ron in the Great Hall filling his plate with food. However, he stopped when he saw her.

"Hermione!" he said happily. "Sit here."

She sat next to him and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not too hungry," she said. The potions had made her stomach queasy.

"You sure?" Ron asked, stroking her hair for a moment.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, it's fine. I'll feel better tomorrow."

"Good."

Hermione's smile brightened and she pulled him into a hug. When they pulled apart, Ron looked confused.

"What was that for?"

She didn't answer, but he quickly got distracted when he looked over to see their best friend entering the hall. He looked dazed and extremely tired.

"Harry! Over here!" Ron called.

Hermione jumped up when she saw him and pulled him into a hug. He grimaced as she squeezed him, unknowingly applying pressure to the cut on his chest.

"Ouch," he said.

"Oh, what happened, Harry?" Hermione asked, letting him go.

"Just a little cut," he answered dismissively. "You're happy. What's up?"

"Harry, mate!" Ron said, coming over. "You've been gone all day, where were you?"

"Trying to uncover some Malfoy related things," Harry said shortly. "Where have you two been?"

"You didn't hear?" Hermione said slowly, the smile fading a little.

"It's been all over the school," Ron added, surprised.

"Hear what?"

"I was put in the hospital wing this morning by Pansy and her gang. A protection spell I placed on myself combined with whatever her spell was knocked me out this morning," Hermione replied. "You didn't hear anything about it?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "That sounds really scary. Is anyone putting a stop to them?"

"Actually, Aiyana's helping me. She just told me to make sure I was never alone with them."

"Good idea," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"You all right, Harry?" Ron asked. "You seem a bit out of it."

"Oh, I'm all right," Harry answered, shrugging it off. "I think I'm going to get some sleep, though. I'm really sorry about this morning, Hermione. I should have known about it."

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione assured. "Just go get some sleep."

Harry nodded and headed out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Hermione to watch him go with concerned looks on their faces.

"Something's up," Ron said. "And he's certainly not telling us about it."

She sighed. "That's really more trouble then it's worth."

"Should we talk to him?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "But I don't think he'll tell us unless he's ready to."

---

The next few days passed by very slowly for Harry. He was loaded with homework, and the only thing he had to look forward to was research with Malfoy on Wednesday. And even that had its perks and downsides.

Again, this week was the same as ever- whenever he looked for Malfoy, he was never there. And when he did see him, they didn't exchange many words - only an occasional nod of recognition. He didn't find this completely odd, mostly because he and Draco were definitely not friends.

But still, as the days wore on, he found himself looking forward to doing something other than homework.

He helped Ron with escorting Hermione around, but he avoided their questions. He just didn't want them to be worried. They clearly have their own things to deal with was Harry's made-up explanation to why he didn't tell them. Still, that didn't stop their constant badgering. So when Wednesday evening finally rolled around, he was extremely glad to have an excuse to escape from their questioning.

Harry entered the library after cutting dinner short to find Draco leaning against a bookshelf, his blonde hair looking disheveled, as if it hadn't been brushed. He had never seen Draco without his hair combed and perfectly in place.

He opened his mouth to comment but found the boy speaking before him.

"I asked that Pince woman about Hector Collins. She's never heard of him," Draco said, pushing himself off the bookcase with a foot.

"That doesn't sound good," he replied.

Harry looked like he hadn't slept in a few days, and his messy hair was even more ruffled than usual and rivaled Malfoy's in scruffiness.

"You okay?" Draco asked, looking him over.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned, genuinely surprised. It wasn't like Malfoy to ask how he was.

"You just look a mess," the blonde said dismissively.

Harry shrugged. "Well, at least it's Wednesday."

"What's that mean?"

"I've just been looking forward to this researching thing," Harry admitted. "It's better than being asked a million questions."

---

Draco was surprised that Harry had been looking forward to this. Oddly enough, he himself hadn't been thinking of much else all week, which had helped him keep his mind off of other things.

"Well, let's hit the books," Harry said.

Nodding, the two took down a few books and put them on a table, settling in.

"This reminds me of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said spontaneously, causing Draco to look at him, confused. Where had that come from?

"Because of all the research. Oh, and the Nicolas Flamel thing," Harry added as an afterthought, looking off into space.

"Nicolas Flamel created a stone that made the elixir of life," he said shortly. "Didn't Granger know that?"

Harry let out a laugh. "It would have been nice to have you around back in first year."

"We weren't friends then." Draco froze in the process of turning a page. Did what he just say mean that he considered himself friends with Harry now?

No! he told himself. No way.

Feeling a pair of green eyes on him, he corrected, "I mean, you know Potter. We weren't on speaking terms."

Harry stared at him for a moment longer, making Draco begin to feel self-conscious.

"Let's read," he blurted in attempt to cover his slip, turning the attention back to researching.

Harry opened a book, and they read in silence for a few moments- or at least Harry might have been. Draco couldn't concentrate on the words in front of him. They blurred as he tried to focus, but when he found he couldn't, his eyes began to wander everywhere but the page. He glanced over at Harry who was bent over a book, reading intently.

His hair looks so odd, Draco thought, almost reaching out to fix it. His hand stopped in mid-air when he realized what he was doing, and he quickly snapped himself out of it.

What the hell are you doing?

"Find anything?" Harry asked, looking up.

Draco jumped at his voice. "What?"

"I said," Harry furrowed his brow, "did you find anything?"

"Oh, no." He shook his head furiously, trying to hide an embarrassed blush. Malfoy's don't blush, even after trying to fix someone else's bloody hair. Let alone Harry Potter's - his arch nemesis' hair.

Harry slid his hand through his hair almost as if mocking him (even though Harry hadn't noticed Draco reaching out), then turned back to the book. Draco noticed the scar upon Harry's forehead.

He had received that from the Dark Lord. It was a mark that made him recognizable everywhere.

"That's quite a symbol you got there," he muttered aloud. He wasn't interested in studying at that moment.

"Symbol?" Harry asked, turning away from his book.

"Your scar," he clarified, nodding at it.

Why are you talking to him about his SCAR? he questioned himself.

"Symbol?" Harry repeated.

"A symbol of being singled out," he said. "Nobody else has that scar, so it means that you can never escape from what it means."

Harry frowned, confused on why he was talking about his scar.

Draco frowned as well, unsure why he wanted to talk about Harry's problems, and concerned on why he cared so much about them.

"I bet people recognize it everywhere you go," he said.

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

"Is that annoying?" he asked, watching Harry's expression go from confused to completely lost. He knew Harry had never heard him show an interest before.

"Most of the time," Harry said. "Why are you interested all of a sudden?"

Draco shrugged. "I've just started wondering about your life."

Harry eyed the blonde curiously.

"I'm sure you've been wondering about mine," Draco added, hoping it was true and praying it didn't sound incredibly stupid.

"A little, I guess," Harry said. "But this is coming from you, Malfoy."

Draco bit his tongue to stop a sharp retort from escaping his lips. They were silent for a bit, and the two stared at each other, as if challenging the other to insult them first.

"We should get back to work," Harry finally said.

"Oh, right." Draco turned back to his book, but again found he couldn't concentrate. "What exactly about my life were you curious about, Potter?"

Harry looked up again, this time looking concerned. "Are you quite all right, Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?" he asked defensively.

"Well, for one, you look how I feel right now. And then there's also the fact that you keep asking me really random questions," Harry said. "Well, random for you."

Draco sighed and looked away.

"Malfoy, what's bothering you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Because if I end up pouring my problems out to you, you'll never talk to me again.

"Because I can't talk about it," he answered.

"Hey, you know what I think?" Harry asked, pausing as Draco looked up at him curiously. "I think that we should just get over whatever is bothering us, right now."

A small, amused smile slid across Draco's lips.

"Hey, see, a smile!" Harry exclaimed, grinning. "You'll be over it in no time."

His smile faded and he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, just while we're researching, anyway," Harry said.

"I can't concentrate," he whined.

"Then, erm, fine. Well," Harry started, "what was your childhood like, Malfoy? I mean, was it happy?"

Draco laughed again. "You're actually asking me?" He had only been partly joking before.

Harry smiled. "You can ask me too, if you want."

"Right. Well, my childhood pretty much sucked. How about yours, Potter?"

"Mine was pretty horrible," Harry muttered. "My aunt and uncle hated me, and Dudley liked to kick me around a lot."

"Sounds like a man after my own heart," Draco said half-heartedly.

"He's afraid of me now, though," Harry said. "Ever since I went off to study here."

"Afraid you'll curse him?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Like you would do that."

"Hey, I've blown up my aunt before," Harry countered. "Not purposely, though."

"I would be mutilated if I blew up any of my relatives," Draco said, shocked. "My dad would personally lock me up in the Isolation Chamber for a month."

"Isolation Chamber?" Harry asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"It's a torturing chamber my dad uses," he said.

"Has he ever put you in it?" Harry asked softly.

Draco didn't answer, stifling a shudder from a fleeting memory that was making its way back into his head.

Harry looked horrified. "That's awful!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, that's my dad," Draco said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"What about your mum?" Harry asked. "Is she nicer?"

"My mum is nice enough." He shrugged. "She's never as horrible as dad when it comes to punishing me."

The two boys fell into silence again, silver eyes on framed green eyes.

"Erm," said Draco, feeling uncomfortable. "Let's get back to reading. I think I can concentrate now."

"Okay," Harry agreed, and went back to his book.

Draco turned to his own book, then looked at Harry who was shifting in his seat. Harry was still in his school robes, and Draco saw two necklace chains leading under his shirt. He reached for his own neck and found the dragon pendant one still on. It was essential for the game, and so were the other two that Harry was wearing. The identical ones they had allowed them back into the games whenever they wanted, and the second that Harry had was key to calling the Dragon.

Harry was a skinny guy, he noticed, like himself. The more time Draco spent with him, the more he realized they had in common.

He felt a stab of pain from the X scar on his chest as he moved his necklace across it, making him wince.

"Do you have a cut from the Dragon Games?" he asked.

Harry looked up.

"What?"

"Do you have a cut on your chest?" he repeated, feeling like he was annoying the boy.

"Erm, yeah. I thought it would go away when we got out of the games, but it didn't."

Draco nodded; he had thought the same thing.

Harry's emerald eyes sparked from behind his glasses, and Draco was captivated by them, not able to turn away.

"Has yours randomly started to bleed?" Harry asked.

He snapped his eyes away. "Once or twice."

They two boys looked up to see Draco's owl flying in with a letter. It was not addressed on the envelope, but Draco had a feeling he knew who it was from. He quickly untied the letter and the bird flew off.

"I have to take care of this," he said, relieved to be able to get out of the room which had started to feel oddly small.

"Oh, alright," Harry said. "I'll stay for a while longer."

"Great," he said distractedly. Heading to leave, he felt Harry's eyes on him until he turned the corner.

Oh man, he thought. I really need to get a grip on myself. What was that back there?

Draco shoved those thoughts from his mind. The letter in front of him was more important. At least, that's what he had to tell himself nearly the whole time he was walking to keep his thoughts off the former Gryffindor.

He hurried into the Room of Magic and shut the door. He put the back to the door, muttering incoherent curse words under his breath.

Har- Potter's not important. This letter is. Potter's not your friend. You don't care what he thinks. Why did I care about his scar...? I meant to mock him, that's it. I'm just too distracted. Gotta fix that.

Draco opened the letter, finding it was from exactly who he thought it was from. His father.

He sat down on a chair at a desk and began to read.

---

Harry had never had an encounter with Malfoy quite like that before. He was deeply confused by the boy's questions, and even more concerned by how bad off the boy looked.

He rubbed his forehead where his scar was and thought about what Draco had said.

I guess it sort of is a symbol, he thought. I just wish I could get rid of it at times.

The raven-haired boy sighed and then turned back to the books.

---

Draco came out of the room a half hour later and was disappointed to find Pansy waiting for him outside the maze of halls that it took to get to the room. She had her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"Draco," Pansy sneered, "we need to talk."

"Not in the mood," he said, trying to get past her, but he felt her hand grab onto his shoulder.

"I don't care what you're in the mood for," she hissed.

He turned around. "What then? You going to tell me how you still don't believe me? I could really care less."

"No! I saw you with Potter in the library," she growled.

"You have eyes, good for you," he drawled.

"You were researching with him? Since when are you study buddies with that... with Potter?"

"Since I realized I had a job to do," Draco answered, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt as she insulted Harry.

"Job?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You mean, you're doing something for-"

"Look, Pansy," he said. He knew exactly what to tell her to make her lay off. "I'm not supposed to discuss my plans. They'd be very pissed off if I did."

"Does your father know?" she asked. "That you're hanging out with Potter?"

"Yes. He wants me to."

"I think you're lying!" she argued. "He doesn't know."

Why is she so annoyingly persistent? he asked himself. It would have been easier to get rid of her if she wasn't such a conniving bitch.

"You caught me," he said with no enthusiasm. "Father doesn't know. He wouldn't understand my plans for - Potter."

"So you're planning on hurting him?" she asked with a smirk.

"It's on the agenda," he answered.

For the first time, he found his patience wearing thin as he talked to Pansy. Normally, he could deal with her for hours. That's what he had to do on a regular basis, anyhow.

"Now leave me be," he demanded.

"Does the Dark Lord know of your plans?" Pansy asked.

"Yes, in fact he does." He shrugged, trying to move away.

Pansy thought for a moment. "I'm telling your father, Draco."

He stopped walking and closed his eyes with a groan.

"What the bloody hell would you do that for?" he asked, his face growing hot in anger. If she told his dad, it would mess up everything he had been working towards.

"He needs to know what you're up to," she said. "He'll at least make sure that you're not doing anything stupid."

Pansy started to walk away, and this time Draco grabbed her arm, squeezing it a little harder then he meant to.

"Ouch!" she cried.

"You will not tell my dad anything!" he growled viciously.

"Let me go!" Pansy whined, only causing his hold to get tighter.

"You got it?" Draco snarled, his voice low. "You will not tell my father anything!"

Pansy pulled away and glowered at him, holding her arm. "I'll think about it."

She ran off, and he knew it was too much to hope that she wouldn't tell his father. He needed to come up with something, and fast.