Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

CHAPTER THREE
Let's Dance, You and I

Slowly, Salazar turned. He saw behind him a great monstrosity; an expansive bulk of formidable scaly wings, a hard, seemingly indestructible torso and a head of purest evil, smoking billowing around and its eyes flaming, staring straight at the unarmed knight.

"Bollocks," he seethed, mentally scolding himself for his cursory language. "You again."

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"Excellent. So that's three rounds to me and, er, one to you."

"Like hell you say! It's two all," she shot back. He loved that. He wasn't expecting language from her.

"Very well, m'lady, two all. Dust off your skirts and we'll begin again," he said patronisingly. She fell back into stance with a determined smile.

"I'm not an expert at swordplay, Sir Gryffindor. Don't tease me."

"You're doing remarkably well for a proletarian," he condescended.

"I daresay that's the highest ability you're capable of educating to."

"Oh?" His eyes shone. He smiled back at her, brandishing his sword.

"Let's dance, you and I."

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"I beg your pardon?" Helga said in an undertone, unable to take her eyes off the monstrosity looming over them. "You've seen one of these before?" she hissed, panicking.

Salazar didn't bother to reply. He was scanning the grounds, looking for an escape, a shield, a distraction, anything. Trees flanking the path up to the house--easily flammable, no good. Stone statue adjacent to them--too close, too small. He shot a sideways glance at the statue; an odd granite thing that was a nude replica of a primordial, mystical god. His gaze dropped downwards, and he allowed himself a small smirk, even in the face of his impending doom. Definitely too small...But where the hell to run to?

And then, with a roll of his eyes he grabbed Helga by the arm and disapparated as the creature let out a breath. Sometimes he just couldn't be arsed to play knight.

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Rowena was restrained against the wall with a blade thrust up against her neck, unarmed, her heart pounding, her head aching and a small bruise taking shape on her cheek. But that was nothing compared to Sir Gryffindor, who had a slash across his torso, a blood stained tunic, a black eye forming and harsh trouble breathing.

"Right then. You win," she whispered. As an answer he dropped his sword at their feet and stepped to the side of her, staying close to the wall for support. A large smile played on his face as he looked at her, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He produced his wand from his shirt and healed her cheek. She whispered her thanks, inclining her head towards him.

"You are hurt," she said, lightly brushing the slash across his chest with her fingertips. He looked down at the cut, then up again at her face.

"I can't feel a thing." The way he said it was not so much a reassurance as a poor appraisal of her swordsmanship. Her eyes widened and he laughed, and she took his hand and shook it sharply.

"You scoundrel," she giggled.

A small pop sounded in the centre of the room, announcing Helga and Salazar's hasty entrance, and if that wasn't enough to completely shatter the romance, Salazar gave it the edge by proclaiming: "Godric, I need your help, much as I hate to say it, but that ruddy dragon has turned up again and I'm completely without the incantation because I didn't think I'd be needing it thanks to your fabulous scheme and for god's sake put the child down before I feed you to the damn animal!"

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Slowly, Godric released his hold on Rowena and turned, his eyes becoming unfocused only to sharpen again as they came to rest on Salazar.

"What?" he said blankly. Rowena looked on in question. Helga was on the point of screaming at the sight of her young ward. And meanwhile...

"...that damn creature! And you, telling me that there was no chance on this earth--"

"This is not the time to split hairs, Salazar, that spell was supposed to be foolproof--"

"But we are not dealing with a fool here, Godric!"

A jet of flame burst passed the window, sending a stream of hot air into the hall and silencing all but the rapid breathing of all four inhabitants.

"What was that?" Rowena said mildly.

"Erm," Godric began hesitantly, "well..."

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Two years ago

The two knights stood almost at the boundary of the forest, looking from the inside out, mere feet from safety, wands drawn, waiting.

"I say we run," Godric murmured.

Salazar shook his head, trying desperately to calm his awkward breathing. His eyes wide, he scoured his surroundings. Neither of them moved. The foliage remained dormant, the air still moist, the edge of the forest just barely out of reach.

They had to get out of this forest, and soon. They had limited rations and had long since run out of water. Accio was out of the question; the beast simply burned any liquid en route to the dehydrating pair. Minimal movement was essential. Sleep was lacking. Control was wearing thin.

"I say we run," Godric said again, many hours later, as the sun had all but drowned below the horizon. The number of times he had said this had become too frequent for Salazar to count, but it was there to keep Godric sane; he needed to know he had options. And Salazar, who would never admit it, needed to know he had Godric.

The urge to get to safety became too great for the two friends. With a fleeting, trusting glance, they both sprinted forward.

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"In total, we made it little more than a mouse-tail further," Godric said contemptuously, watching the creature prowl the gardens through the window. "The thing blasted at us again and we had to retreat. Again. We were there in all for six days and nights."

"Five," Salazar corrected. Godric inclined his head sharply.

"No, I'm sure it was six."

"Five."

"It was six!"

"Five."

"Surely this is not relevant at this precise moment in time?" Helga snapped. "There is a dragon prowling around my garden, my statues are in grievous danger of being pulverised and I don't even know what has happened to you!" Rowena glanced away sheepishly. "Can the two of you explain yourselves?" she said dangerously. Godric and Salazar stared at one another in defiance. Godric was the most unsteady, and eventually lost by blinking. Throwing another glare out the window he sat down on the table, legs akimbo. Salazar seated himself directly opposite by summoning the only chair that still had four legs to stand on. He thought of offering seats for the two ladies, but found his voice to be missing; the two women stood at opposite ends of the room, arms folded and standing straight, expressions colder than frost.

Godric cleared his throat hesitantly, also eyeing Rowena and Helga warily.

"Well then," he began. "We are knights of the realm of Camelot. As part of our sacred duty to His Majesty King Arthur, we fulfil quests and duties befitting the protection of the realm. Two years ago, Salazar and I volunteered for--"

--Salazar snorted. At the glances of the other three, he proceeded to study the tapestry behind him with lavish fascination. And a smirk.

"Yes, fair enough, he's right...we were ordered to assist in a quest with somewhat...well, Merlin had seen a dragon..." Godric dwindled off, looking confused. Rowena eyed him in bewilderment. "Actually, I'm not sure why we went off on that quest." A glance told him that Sir Slytherin was not about to enlighten him, so he proceeded. "But, er, we did. Go on this quest. And the quest was to find and kill a dragon. This particular dragon was rather more difficult to handle than your average garden variety dragon, and we went off, and we couldn't kill it, but we devised a way to disable it. And...then we left." He finished off hastily and nodded as if to convince himself. Salazar had aborted the pretence of disinterest and nodded also.

"Disabled completely?" Rowena said flatly.

"Completely," Godric said happily.

"Never to be seen again?" Helga asked.

"Never," Salazar said decisively.

A stream of fire came flaring past the window, billowing the heavy velvet drapes that hung at the frame. A thin layer of brick was scorched at the sill. The dragon was heard to sneeze as a gush of steam floated through the window. Pounding footsteps sounded outside as the ornaments crashed down from the mantelpiece inside the hall. Crickets were heard chirping merrily from the nearby flowerbed.

"Alright," Salazar said finally, standing and sweeping the sizzling drapes shut. "This is what actually happened."

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Two Years Ago

Salazar observed the form of Merlin the Magician as it appeared in his fireplace with a calm indifference over his copy of 'The Illiad'.

"'ood 'Mornin', 'y 'Wrord," Godric managed through his breakfast. Salazar inclined his head and regretfully laid down his book as Merlin clambered gracefully into the dining room.

"Sir Slytherin. Sir Gryffindor. I am here on royal business, concerning a quest." Godric swallowed painfully and patted his mouth with a napkin, looking attentive.

"Has anyone royal actually been informed of this quest?" Salazar asked him disdainfully. Merlin ignored him.

"There is a matter of magical secrecy that must be kept from the citizens of Camelot. A dragon has been sighted west of the city limits by Muggles, and I am entrusting you, as the only two able wizards in the vicinity, to eliminate it before it comes any nearer." The two younger men exchanged a look. It was more meaningful than one might imagine:

Well, Salazar? Ready for a little excitement?

When excitement presents itself, I'll be ready, Godric. This isn't it.

We can hardly refuse.

Yes we can.

We can't refuse a summons from the king's consort.

We can be indisposed.

No we cannot!

We could memory charm him.

Oh for the love of--

"Which breed is it?" Godric asked, breaking the eye contact.

"An original crossbreed of a Hungarian Horntail and a Ukrainian Ironbelly. A female," he added.

"How do you know that?" Salazar said bitingly. Merlin blinked at him in a leering manner. "How do you know its breed?" he clarified impatiently.

"You leave at dusk," he said in reply. "Your instructions will be delivered to you by messenger later today." He turned to go, but paused before re-entering the fire. "Don't fail, sirs. That's a king's command." And he was gone.

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"Son--of--a--bitch!" The mirror crashed down the staircase, seemingly of its own accord, and fell in pieces on the stone floor. Godric, in his upstairs chamber, pointedly ignored it and began shrinking the contents of his wardrobe.

"How--dare--he!" A cabinet exploded in the nearby study. The sound of paper softly rustling in the corridor reached his ears. He opened the cabinet door and started to examine his weapons.

"That--bastard!" Down went the desk.

"Filthy villain!!" And the chaise lounge.

"Swine of hell! Scum!" A peculiar squawking sound finally attracted Godric's attention. A moment later he cringed as he realised their unfortunate house elf had found himself in the pathway of Salazar's mindless need to destroy.

A sudden silence came over the castle. Godric stood still for a second, and a moment after that Salazar appeared in the doorway.

"Packing?" he asked quietly, somewhat tense but otherwise quite calm. Godric nodded. "Mmm. I shall do the same." He turned and left. His footsteps tapped sharply along the corridor. Accompanied by the rhythmic bashing of what Godric could only guess was the bookshelf, it being the only piece of furniture unaccounted for in Salazar's tower. Smothering his own unease, he shut the door and commenced an examination of his scythes.

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Salazar sat back, looking satisfied.

"That doesn't answer the question," Rowena said blandly. Salazar hesitated.

"Were you not asking me why we were involved with this creature?"

"Yes, but--"

"There you have it then."

"But why is it here?"

"Because we are." All three turned to look at Godric, where he sat slumped moodily on the chair, fiddling with his shredded sleeve.

"I hardly think that's fair," Salazar commented. "It's not as if we sent it a summons." Godric sighed, looking up vaguely at Rowena.

"We should leave." His voice was unsure. Rowena looked at him uneasily, a worried crease to her forehead.

"You said something about...something foolproof?" she asked.

"The incantation, yes," Salazar said wearily. "Godric had an idea," he began scathingly. Godric rose to his own defence.

"I had a plan, a--"

"--foolproof plan, yes, I am aware of it. And the incantation was supposed to cloak the creature from this world, keep it trapped between reality and supposition."

"Supposition?" asked Helga. Salazar breathed out through his nostrils harshly and narrowed his eyes at the opposite wall.

"There are many forms of existence in subsistence, and mankind exists in only one: that which we refer to as 'reality'," Salazar explained impatiently to Helga. Then, without warning, Rowena took up the account:

"However dragons are purely mystical beings and can exist not only in reality, supposition, underworlds and the like, but also between them." Salazar nodded with approval. "But the barriers between these existences are meant to be unbreakable for mortals," she said questioningly. "How did you do it?" Godric grinned faintly.

"Well, we didn't." He shrugged his head in the direction of steam that was filtering through the drapes. "The beast did. All we needed from it was a word of consent, something positive." He smiled at the memory. "We set out the incantation while it slept, woke it up, forced it to give its agreement, et voila! It was trapped."

"My! Oh, my," Helga gushed.

"Salazar did most of the spellwork," Godric told her modestly.

"But it was all Godric's idea," Salazar counteracted magnanimously. Helga kept gushing favourably. But Rowena was gazing vaguely at the tapestry on the far wall, shaking her head and muttering 'men' under her breath.

"Something wrong?" Godric inquired, coming forward and taking her hand. He mistook her exasperation for concern for him putting himself in danger.

"Don't be angry," he said gently, cupping her cheek with his other hand and smiling.

"I'm not angry," she said blankly, looking at him. "I'm disgusted."

"At what?"

"Your plan. It wasn't foolproof." She detached her hand from his and started to walk towards the door.

"Yes it was!" he called after her churlishly.

"No it wasn't!" she shot back, equally childish. "That thing could have killed Helga!"

"Well-why in God's name...," he stuttered. Rowena marched back and turned Helga around so her back faced the knights. The shoulder of Helga's robe had been razed completely, revealing the blistering burn mark that now lay below her collar. It was only small compared to what may have occurred; she'd only caught the furthest edge of the blast that had issued from the creature as Salazar had apparated them inside the castle. But it was there, plainly visible even as Helga turned indignantly out of the taller girl's gentle grasp and faced the two men again. They hadn't seen it before as she'd kept her back to the wall. Rowena had been the only one to notice.

"It's nothing, don't fuss, darling," Helga insisted. But the point had been made.

"We'll leave," Salazar said at last. "But I'll heal the burn first. Is there any murtlap in the house--Godric for god's sake!" Godric and Rowena were still arguing.

"...but--what--was--wrongwithit!?" Godric hurled at her. "There was nothing wrong with it!"

"Yes, there was!" she yelled, wrenching the door open.

"Well, what?! The creature gave its consent, and a little tickling does not change...I mean to say trickery doesn't--"

"Tickling?" Rowena snapped.

"Tickling?" Helga asked quietly.

"Twit," Salazar muttered. Godric floundered for too long a moment.

"You tickled it, you berk?" Rowena shrieked, and not waiting for an answer, she slammed the door shut behind her with a crashing resonance.