Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58487 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 28
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story..

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
PREVIOUSLY: Harry resolved to ask the Blaise the truth at Potions before dinner. He wondered, faintly, what Snape would do.

Then he shuddered and broke into a trot to keep up with Hermione and Ron.

It suddenly felt as if all his luck had run out.

Transfigurations was a nightmare.

Harry knew it was all going downhill the moment McGonagall's sharp eyes zeroed in on him. Her scent dipped sharply in a way that heralded trouble. He'd managed to slip by her for so long and now it was as if she'd suddenly realized something. To his relief, she didn't call him out on it in class.

But as she'd done the first week, she came by to personally inspect his efforts or rather, his lack of visible progress. She'd turned away to scold Ron with face set in an expression of extreme disapproval as class continued on.

Harry had sat in his seat, feeling worse as the minutes ticked by.

The moment class was over, he was on his feet and ready to run.

He didn't get very far at all.

"Mr. Potter, a word?" McGonagall's voice cut through his temporary bubble of happiness.

Harry swallowed. This wouldn't go over well, he could practically feel it.

Ron shot him a sympathetic look as Hermione dragged him out the door to the next class.

He shuffled up to the desk and waited. She scribbled something on a piece of parchment and then peered up at him over her glasses. "Is something the matter?"

"No, Professor McGonagall." He answered, politely.

"I see." She eyed him meaningfully. "You've had this kind of a…reaction before." She sniffed. "In the first week, correct? I've noticed your recent lack of progress in class. I have meant to ask and should have said something sooner. Have you come into any magical inheritance this year, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Professor?" He squeaked.

She perked a brow at his reaction and made another scribble on the parchment. "I thought not."

"Professor?" He tried again, unable to help himself.

"Of course, you might not be aware of it, but most young witches and wizards find themselves with a magical inheritance on their sixteenth birthdays." She sighed. "Some do and some do not, but it depends on family bloodlines. Your mother received hers as a sudden, inherent ability to manipulate charms at will, I do believe she was not a pureblood, however, she did possess a significant amount of raw magic and that may have had something to do with it."

She held up a hand. "Before you ask, I have no idea what your father's was, I do know that it did help to settle him down just a bit. He did have quite some trouble controlling his magic for a few weeks until it settled down. Whether you did inherit something or not, it is quite normal for your magic to rewrite itself on an auspicious birthday." She scribbled something else on the parchment. "As I don't believe you've ever had this sort of issue before, I would suggest visiting Madam Pomfrey. She can help, if there are any symptoms you have noticed or at least, you will have a proper excuse from classes if there is something wrong."

The stern professor handed it over. "I do not think I should have to impress upon you the seriousness of this matter." She peered at him over her glasses. "This is serious, Mr. Potter. Now, Poppy can also give a better explanation than I, as to why your magic may be…reacting, if that is the case. Run along now. This should excuse you from your next class."

So Harry left.

He made his way down to the next class and stuffed the note in his pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was go and see Madam Pomfrey. He'd managed to avoid her for three weeks after all. The matron was never quite happy to see him—probably because disaster usually followed shortly afterward—but as far as he knew, he was fine, well, except for the lack of magic part, but that wasn't really much of an issue—sort of. If Professor McGonagall had thought his inheritance to be an excuse for it, then he'd let her go right on believing that. He hadn't confirmed nor denied receiving an inheritance. There was no real need to correct her assumptions and it was her own fault for making them in the first place. She hadn't given him much of a chance to answer.

He wouldn't answer.

He didn't have to. It was no one's business but his own.

With that reasoning hammered out in his head, Harry trotted off to Charms class. His mind flickered back to his mother and he wondered what it must have been like for her. He'd heard once, that she was extremely gifted in Charms. It was one of the few treasured tidbits of knowledge he knew of her. It was news to him that her gift had come as a magical inheritance. He'd treasure that new tidbit and silently thanked McGonagall, even though she didn't know what it meant to him. He found himself wondering if the same would work for him—after all, a magical inheritance had to come from one's parents and if his mother had talent in charms, then perhaps he wasn't entirely screwed for the moment.

Maybe.

His magic was just as nonexistent in there as it had been everywhere else for the past nearly two months. He wondered if Professor McGonagall's mention of his magic redirecting itself had anything to do with it.

Perhaps he ought to see Madam Pomfrey after all.

Perhaps.

His stomach twinged in unease and he shoved that thought away.

No, absolutely not.

He'd avoid it as long as he possibly could.

Charms was just as awful as Transfiguration.

It seemed that Professor Flitwick had kept an eye on him and he made his move right before Harry could bolt for the next class.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry stifled a groan. He turned to see the short fellow waiting, expectantly. "Yes, Professor?"

Professor Flitwick beckoned to him as the rest of the class filed out. "If you are not feeling well to participate in class, please visit the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey will set you straight to rights. You wouldn't want to fall behind…" The sentence trailed off and then the little professor returned his attention to the stack of summer homework on his desk.

Harry nodded, quickly, nervously and backed out of the room. He knew a dismissal when he heard one and if the Professor hadn't ordered him to see Madam Pomfrey, then there was no reason he really had to.

DADA class was strange.

Professor Terius seemed to be in an exceptionally dark mood. He altered the expected lesson of a practical example in favor of a textbook reading. The selected a passage dealt with types of magical creatures and basic summaries of what they were and what they were capable of. He had them take turns all around the class reading it out loud. He moodily interrupted to correct speech and grammar several times in short, sharp phrases, but didn't make a single comment beyond that.

He paced the length of the classroom and up and down the aisles a few times.

At one moment, he lingered in front of the empty desk where Pansy Parkinson would have sat. His frown said more than he might have, but he didn't He then resumed his pacing and at the end of the passage, scowled magnificently.

"Any questions regarding today's readings will have to wait. I shall answer during the next class period. Choose one question that puzzles you and address it an essay of fourteen inches, due immediately upon the next class period." He frowned. There was still roughly about twenty minutes left of class time. "Chose a question with merit and reread this passage thoroughly to find supporting statements for your argument. Dismissed."

A slightly stunned class began to pack up and move out. They weren't about to complain of getting out early—well, none besides Hermione, that is—and she had learned with time not to speak up out of turn in this particular class.

"Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, a word?"

Harry was swept up with the crowd and out into the hallway. He turned back in time to see Draco turning his head to show off the bruise on the side of his face as Blaise circled 'round the desk to stand with his friend. Harry wondered why Draco hadn't visited the infirmary for bruise salve. But as the blond approached the agitated professor, the door swung shut before Harry could see more. He found himself wondering what the professor's reaction was.

A new burst of energy sang through him at being let out early. Harry charged along with the usual flow of students, thinking general happy thoughts. He had an idea of what to write for the essay and he had a sudden craving for fruit again. Halfway towards the Great Hall, Harry stifled a groan as he began to feel an all-too-familiar tiredness creeping into his very bones. The burst of energy had only been temporary—a warning at best, if he chose to look at it that way. He was not looking forward to carrying around Pepper-up Potions and napping at every available moment.

This week was sure to be a pain in more ways than one. He hoped no one would notice—without the usual rush and bustle of the first school week—it would definitely be a little trickier.

Harry grumbled to himself as he moved along to the next class and ran smack into Theodore Nott.

The dark-haired fellow caught him easily by the elbow and steadied him with a smile. "Morning, Harry." He greeted. "You're out early."

"Morning, Theo." Harry returned, pleased to be able to use the boy's first name and in shortened form no less. "Teacher Terius let us out early. Can I borrow your-"

"Lucky you." Theo praised. "For four chocolate frogs, you can have it tonight and return it tomorrow in Potions." One honey-gold eye winked. "Or four chocolate frogs whenever you get them and you can borrow it for the same amount of time. Anything longer than that and we might have to work out…new arrangements."

Harry found himself blushing. "O-only four?"

"Shall I ask for more?" Theo chuckled. "Harry, Harry, really, whenever you're offered a good deal, take it quietly and do not complain." He smirked. "It is that self-sacrificing habit you Gryffindors have that always cost you in the end. You should never ask a Slytherin if you've paid them enough." He winked. "When you have the frogs, I'll have the book."

"You really shouldn't eat so much of them, you know." Harry heard himself say. He was frantically trying to think of something else to keep the conversation going. The few snatched moments they'd had to talk had never satisfied him at all. Not to mention that if the twins smelled delicious, then Theodore's scent was absolutely divine.

Theo chuckled and the sound sent happy shivers through Harry. "Are you worried for my sugar intake? How touching. I assure you that I am-"

"Shut up! It's not my fault if you suddenly turn into a hyper-"

"Harry?" Ron stood in the hallway, staring at him a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "Why are you talking to one of those slimy snakes?"

"I'll just be taking my leave." Theo's eyes frosted over and he turned away, sharply. "Harry." He said, with a nod and was gone in the passing flow of students.

Harry stared after him, feeling his absence as a very obvious loss that made him want to run after the boy and do…something, he didn't know what.

"Harry?" Ron was beside him, closer this time. "Harry, mate, what's going on? Are you alright?"

"What, Ron?" Harry jerked around to glare at him. "Yes. I'm fine. I was fine." Perfectly fine until you interrupted. He thought, darkly.

"Hey!" Ron held up his hands. "You know, you've been acting really strange lately." His eyes were accusing. "You hardly ever hang out with Mione and me now and now you're getting all cozied up to-"

Harry tuned him out. He had to. If he listened, he had a feeling he'd punch Ron in the face, just to hear the sound his fist would make when it collided with the redhead's nose. Or jaw. Or head. Either of them, he wasn't going to be picky.

Potions was a curious affair.

Pansy was present.

Draco was paired with Millicent instead of her. The bruise on his face had disappeared and he spoke in quiet, deliberate tones, avoiding her seemingly without effort. His fellow Slytherins immediately moved independently between them, keeping them apart without a word from their still glowering Head of House.

Harry shrank slightly into Blaise when the scowling professor prowled the classroom, inspecting the individual cauldrons.

The Italian had barely spoken so far and he looked, curiously at Harry for a moment, before directing the ingredients to the other side of the table. "Check if they need to be diced or sliced." He instructed.

Harry eyed them warily and then cautiously bent his head over the book, skimming for the necessary information.

"Something troubles you, little lion?" Blaise murmured when Harry bumped into him for the half-dozenth time they were standing beside each other.

"Harry." The green-eyed boy corrected automatically. "Why can't you ever use my name?"

"Har-ry, then." Blaise purred.

Harry felt his face heat and knew he was turning several shades of red. He should've kept his mouth shut for that point. He looked away as Blaise chuckled softly beside him. "You shouldn't be flirting with me if you're with Draco." He snapped.

Blaise stiffened beside him. "Excuse me?" The warmth faded from his voice.

Harry swallowed. "If you're with Draco, you shouldn't be…with me." He licked his lips, nervously.

Blaise's hand clamped down on his shoulder and turned him around. Dark purple eyes zeroed in on shining emerald orbs. "Listen close and listen well, Potter." He whispered, darkly. "I am not with Draco nor anyone else. I would advise you to keep your suspicions of my personal life to yourself."

Harry blinked. The Italian seemed to have done a complete personality change. He didn't like that. This side of Blaise wasn't very nice at all. "I said, if." He lifted his head a little higher. The height difference between them wasn't too noticeable, but he knew that Blaise stood tall on purpose to get his point across. He'd do the same. "If. I didn't say you were."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed painfully tight and then, Professor Snape cleared his throat from somewhere nearby and the offending hand gentled and fell back to Blaise's side.

Harry swallowed and edged away a few inches as he began the usual ingredient preparations. When he finished, he read out the instructions in a quiet monotone and let Blaise do the rest of the work.

An awkward silence settled over him as the time torturously ticked by.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear." Blaise said, quietly. They'd reached the halfway mark for the potion and he directed Harry to start reading the instructions once more. "Especially among Slytherins."

"Obviously I know that now." Harry shot back. He glared at the taller boy.

Blaise offered a rueful smile, hands extended in apology. "My apologies, little lion. I did not mean to be so harsh, earlier."

Harry snorted. "Keep your hands to yourself."

The class ended without further interaction or question between them.

"Time is up. Bottle and label your potions, leave them here on your way out." Professor Snape barked. He folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes and glowered at each student as they passed by his desk to do as he'd asked. "And Miss Parkinson and Mr. Malfoy, a word."

The two Slytherins in question were the last two left in the room as Harry waited for Blaise to leave first and caught the tail end of the crowd.

"Something the matter, Harry?" Theo fell into step beside him, a steady hand on his shoulder when Harry jerked around in surprise.

"Theo. Oh." Harry found himself relaxing almost at once. "No, I just…it's nothing."

"Nothing doesn't leave a frown like that on your face." Theo's smile didn't quite touch his eyes. "Did Blaise say something to you?"

Harry blinked. Theo had been paying attention. "No. Why?"

"Good." Theo said, calmly. "Did he do anything?"

"What? No!" Harry sputtered, the moment his mind caught up to the insinuation.

"Wonderful. So what did you say or do that leaves you like this?"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry snapped, defensively. "Just-" Theo's hand lightly brushed against his and a warm tingle shot through him, temporarily fudging his bolt of anger. "I—it's nothing." He swallowed and jerked his hand away.

"If he ever does, tell me." Theo murmured. "A snake vs. a snake has a better chance of winning. Good evening, Harry." And he melted into the crowd in his usual way and was gone before Harry could puzzle through that parcel of information.

He was left subconsciously holding his hand and wondering what exactly had just happened there.

Harry shook his head and trotted towards the Gryffindor Tower. It was dinner time and then homework time and then bedtime. He yawned. He'd go with bedtime and leave everything else for later. It had been too strange a day and he didn't feel like sitting through the leftover drama that was sure to be inside the Great Hall.

Somehow, he didn't think his stomach would mind.

Another yawn came through and Harry didn't bother to hide it.

A/N: Hmm, it seems that someone has finally noticed. Now what could possibly go wrong next? :P
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There Be Dragons, Harry