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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
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RECAP: After invoking Theo's password after a soulcry, Harry passes out, trying to reach Charlie, who has undergone a partial, forced Dragel transformation. When Theo arrives in the aftermath of the DE attack and Charlie refuses to hand over Harry, Theo challenges him and Charlie gives a heartcry, which prompts Theo to bite him, before 'porting all three of them out to Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. Theo tends to Charlie and Harry while waiting for his mentor, Ilsa Gorgens to arrive. She turns up with one of her mates, a man named Aracle and immediately immerses herself in the preparations to begin Charlie's blood purification ritual. Meanwhile, Harry is suffering from the physical aftereffects of channeling the earth element.

HOGWARTS GROUNDS : SEVERUS SNAPE'S QUARTERS : DUNGEONS : SUNDAY NIGHT

"Aracle, get your idiotic behind over here at once!" Ilsa's voice cut through the morbid musings between the two Dragels.

"Charming as ever, my dear." He drawled, moving away from the settee and gliding towards her. "What is it?" He took in the runes she'd carved in the floor of the sitting room and perked a brow. "Really?" He said, mildly.

She rolled her eyes. "Hang the room, Aracle. See if I care." She dusted her hands, eyes straying back to Charlie's stunned figure. She'd hit him with a mild stunner and then carefully arranged his body how she needed. It was faster. There was the faintest hint of betrayal in his blue eyes as he lay there, unmoving. She snorted. "It's easier this way." She threw over her shoulder, when Theo drew near, mouth open, about to protest. "This is also going to take a significant amount of energy. Where is this place? Can it hold the backlash?"

Theo gave a wry smile. "It may be one of the only places in this side that might." He admitted. "That's why I came here. I knew you'd 'port to my signal."

"Smart boy." She congratulated. "Go protect your sub." She cracked her knuckles. "And plug your ears and all your other senses as well."

"What are you going to do?"

"Unbind him of course." She snapped. "And bleed him. Isn't that what you called me here for?"

"Well, yes. I suppose, but I didn't think that-"

"You didn't think." Ilsa said, very quietly. "Then I suggest you do, seeing as how I despise that particular turn of phrase. You are slipping, Theodore."

"Ilsa…"

She whirled on him, her eyes flashing gold. "I know you, Theodore, so don't you dare start!" She hissed. "You wouldn't tell me what kind of a monster would bind this, but his blood speaks for himself! You do not have a child bearing tainted blood, unless the parent is a blood traitor. No father would have done this to his child, so that leaves the boy's mother. Should I get my claws in her, she would die. You may be wise and foolish by keeping her identity to yourself. The runes are too neatly carved, they were done since birth I doubt the father even knows..." Her hands clenched into fists. "And then you tell me that their status is even public knowledge? Do you have any idea what this means?"

Theo blanched. …? But then that meant that Arthur Weasley was…

Ilsa smiled in grim satisfaction. "Suddenly remember a name, Theo, dear?"

He glared at her.

"Keep your names, keep your secrets. I have never required nor demanded them of you, but when fate is tempted and bribed, it will demand a recourse. I do hope you are prepared to pay. Be warned that I shall not let this go. This is not something that is easily forgotten."

He inclined his head, simply. His mentor was currently thinking in Dragel terms. He was thinking in Slytherin matters with relation to those bloody Gryffindors. The best the thing to do was to tell Ilsa. His Dragel-side screamed at him to do so, to trust his mentor and the woman who had been infinitely more of a mother towards him than his own birth mother.

On the other hand, if he told her, she would most likely hunt and kill them before returning to Nevarah. Her Gheyo status would protect her from any kind of legal retribution and the others would no doubt make sure that it was all carefully handled and taken care of.

Carefully.

He suppressed a shudder. He'd seen Ilsa in action. She wouldn't be kind. He wouldn't wish her justice on anyone, except perhaps, Voldemort. He sighed. Giving away the Weasleys would result in something irreversible and Harry and Charlie probably wouldn't forgive him for destroying their family.

Or their home.

Either one of them.

He didn't think they'd be picky.

Severus Snape stumbled awkwardly through the dungeon hallways, intent on reaching his private quarters. A head poked out from the shadows beside the curve in the hallway that usually led to the Slytherin Dorms and a moment later, Blaise Zabini came rushing over.

"Professor Snape!" He hissed softly, immediately situating himself beside the older man and slinging one thin arm around his broad shoulders. "What happened? Are you alright?"

The Potions Master merely grimaced. "…rooms." He managed. He wondered what the boy was doing there as he tried to piece together the reality that the castle had been evacuated and the dark mark still hovered brightly overhead. Something must have happened to bring the boy back, especially as it seemed that Dumbledore hadn't readmitted anything.

In fact, at the end of their grueling interrogation, at which he'd finally convinced that annoying Madam Pomfrey to leave him alone, Severus had been relieved to see the old Wizard apparate out. He didn't even care when the alarms had gone off signaling that the attack taking place was at The Burrow. He'd simply gathered himself up and together and slunk from the office with all intents of holing up in his quarters and refusing to budge until the rest of his sanity caught up to him.

"Right." Blaise murmured, he began to match his steps to the older man's, working to keep in stride. If Snape didn't feel like talking, then he didn't feel like talking, the Italian hoped that whatever was going on wouldn't cause issues for the rest of the Slytherins or Dragels. They reached the professor's quarters in short order and here, Blaise carefully extracted himself from the carryhold and watched with concern as the pale professor leaned against the doorjamb to his quarters. "Where is Professor Terius?"

Serverus snorted. "He'd better be with Draco."

"Professor…"

"Blaise, if something should happen…keep the Slytherins together. You know what I mean and you know how."

"But-!"

"Just do it. Do it for…me, if nothing else. I cannot give you any promises nor will I tell you any lies."

A grave air of seriousness settled over them.

"Professor…are you leaving?"

"I do not know, yet." Severus grimaced again, a hand on his stomach as he leaned forward. "Terius will probably insist on it. But I suppose that is like asking what you are doing here when the castle should be empty."

The Slytherin had the good grace to look away. "Mother's traveling." He said, at last. "There is no…father, this time. I cannot go back to the Manor, because of the protections that were shattered after the first attack-"

"What protections?" Severus straightened with a hiss. "What attack? He—Terius and Draco were with you!"

"What? When?"

"He swore they'd port to the Manor—I couldn't-" Severus swore beneath his breath. "When I get my hands on that-!"

"If they used the password, they were probably flooed into the emergency room." Blaise hesitated. "They would've been able to get out."

Severus glared at him. "Have you been here the entire time?"

The young man shrugged. "Just about."

"Just about?"

The younger Dragel huffed. "Fine. I flew around a bit at night. Hunted in the forest. Nothing that I wouldn't normally do and not without extreme care."

"Why come here?"

"Why not?" Blaise shrugged. "I'm one person. I'm quick as the night and the shadows like me. I've been here the whole time and nothing's happened. There's been no one—well," He stopped.

"What is it?" Severus frowned. "Spit it out boy!"

"There's been some activity at the edge of the words." Blaise allowed. He lifted his chin at the dark glare sent his way. "I did not go cavorting about nor did I attempt to investigate." He said, tightly. "I skirted the area, marked it so I wouldn't stumble over it without some sort of warning and made sure to never be there in my human form."

"What did you learn?"

"I didn't-"

"So what did you learn?"

"Death Eaters, I think." Blaise frowned. "But none that seem…it was strange. It felt like…" He swallowed. "Death magic." And immediately, the Italian made a traced sign in the air beside his heart.

The Potions Master did the same, his dark brows furrowed together in a thick line. "You're certain?"

"I know what it feels like." Dark violet eyes swirled with emotion. "I know better than anyone else."

Severus gave a short nod. "Anything else?"

"Nothing really." Blaise shrugged. "Beyond that."

"For now, you'd best come in then." He frowned. "It isn't safe."

Blaise hesitated.

The Potions Master eyed him for a moment and then frowned, straightening. "Show me where it is." He said, wearily.

The Italian shot him a pained look.

The dark-eyed glare never wavered.

A moment later, the mismatched duo disappeared down the dungeon halls.

Harry woke to unfamiliar hands stroking his hair and arm.

He bristled upon hearing a quiet chuckle overhead. It took his fuzzy mind a moment to catch up and then he could see Aracle's face hovering above him, a faint smile on his features. He realized, awkwardly, that his head and shoulders rested in the older man's lap and that the Dragel had been humming softly, a nonsensical tune that Harry couldn't place.

"You're awake." Aracle commented. "How are you feeling?"

Harry stared at him.

The man gave another chuckle. "Theo is right over there." He gave a nod of his head. "And we shouldn't be moving right now, because Ilsa is in the middle of something very important."

Harry scowled.

"The blood purification ritual?" Aracle said, dryly. "I would think you'd like to have it over with as soon as possible." He patted Harry's arm and shifted the hand on his head to rest comfortably on the armrest of the settee. "It requires a great deal of power and concentration. As such, we really shouldn't be in such close proximity, but we don't have a choice. Because of that, Theo is blocking for all of us and as not to break his concentration, I am sitting here keeping you company."

"What?" Harry croaked out. He could see that there was something while and filmy hovering somewhat above him and he was able to make out that they appeared to be under a dome-shaped energy shield of sorts. Harry took slow, careful breaths. He really didn't want to be up, not when his body protested so vehemently.

Amusement danced clearly in the older man's eyes. "Takes you a bit to get up, doesn't it?" He commented. "I have a mint somewhere…" He shifted, carefully, in slow measured movements and drew out a shiny foil-wrapped candy from his shirt pocket. "Can't get water or an elf right now. It'll disturb the magic and this is very dangerous magic to disturb."

The mint was slowly unwrapped and Harry reluctantly opened his mouth to receive it, when he realized that his arms and legs wouldn't quite move of their own accord.

"Do you have any movement at all?" Aracle's brow furrowed. "I don't think your alpha put you in any kind of a stasis, but it is possible that channeling that much energy can leave residual effects." The frown deepened. "I can't do anything about that right now, not until they're finished over there." He shifted again, so that his line of sight included the redhead and his mate.

"Wha-?" Harry tucked the mint in the side of his mouth. "S'okay." He mumbled. A little pain was nothing to suffer for the headache he'd apparently put everyone through.

"Are you in any pain?" Aracle prompted. "I can splice you, if you are."

"Er, what?"

"Splice. You know." The man looked as if he would shrug if such movement wouldn't cause any major issues.

"No, I don't." Harry scowled. Why did everyone expect him to simply know everything?

Aracle blinked. "Didn't your mentor explain it?"

"Haven't got one." Harry bit off.

The man stared at him with an expression akin to shock and disbelief rolled into one. "Haven't got one, he says." He muttered. "Pray tell, child, explain?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't have a mentor." He said, slowly. "Everyone keeps-"

"That's not possible. Everyone has one, unless you're below a Halfling and I know you're not." The furrow in his brow grew deeper. "Did something happen? A falling out?"

Emerald eyes suddenly hardened to ice. "Never had one." He turned his head away.

When Harry woke again, it was to the same broad hands gently rubbing his stiff arms and tense muscles.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for a long moment. A crackle of energy hinted at a ripple in the faintly visible overhead dome before the scent of blood permeated the air.

Harry swallowed and choked, hastily spitting out the chunk of mint as the very scent made him gag.

"Don't breathe!" Aracle hissed, easing him upwards in slow, steady movements, shielding the act by angling his body towards the entranced duo engaged in the ritual. "You should-" He frowned. "Theodore!"

A moment later, the scents cleared the air and a faint, lingering hint of it, wafted through.

Harry found himself clutching Aracle's arm and holding tight, even as the man began to whisper soothingly in his ear and rub firm, sure strokes up and down his back. The older Dragel finally sighed and simply wrapped Harry in a hug and tugged him over onto his lap. Exhausted, Harry gave into the impromptu embrace, soaking up the simple comfort it offered and breathing in the more calming scent of musk and spice.

"W-what was that?"

"Blood." Aracle said, simply. "This is a purification ritual."

Harry swallowed, wincing at the memory of the foul stench. "But that-" He shuddered. "What was that?"

"The turning point." Aracle sighed. "You really didn't have a mentor, did you?" Harry jerked within the embrace, only to find the arms suddenly tightening to near impossible bands. "Don't do that! If you break their concentration now, I won't have a mate and neither will you!" Harry stilled at once. "There is a reason this is never done in polite company."

Time passed.

Harry didn't know how much or how long.

He drifted in and out of a troubled sleep as the tense moments passed.

Something niggled in the back of his subconscious and he woke with a weary yawn, tense, waiting. Aracle had gotten in the habit of massaging his aching arms, shoulders and neck, but he would pause every time that Harry woke.

Harry reluctantly admitted to himself that it did help and those big, warm hands were more than welcome to his aching body. He'd never had such a violent magical backlash before, the small ones he'd endured seemed miniscule in comparison to this and all Madam Pomfrey had done at that time, was to give him a dreamless sleep and a pain reliever potion.

For a moment, Harry almost wished that was all it would take to make everything right again.

Whispering chants filled the air and a current moved through the room, a hot, sweltering wave, before a thin, veil of white mist seemed to cloud over, hiding the duo from sight.

Harry wrinkled his nose. He didn't like that. Well, sort of, he didn't like not seeing what was happening, but he was worried enough for Charlie that he stayed where he was, only after a second thought.

"It seems your new addition is a fire element." Aracle commented. "Not a bad choice."

"I didn't choose him for an element." Harry resisted the urge to wriggle as beads of sweat began to form along his flushed face. It was suddenly much warmer in the room than it'd been before and he didn't want to be sitting there, doing nothing. He tried to move and was restrained once more. Harry scowled. He rather felt like elbowing the annoying man in the nose, especially since said man didn't really seem to be undeserving of it...

A nice good pointy elbow…

"I didn't say that you did." Aracle's grip loosened, faintly. "A blood purification ritual involves exactly that, a ritual and blood." He tucked Harry's head beneath his chin. "Breathe, child." The words were spoken with a faintly musical tinge. "I asked you to be sure, because for a mentor to be missing, something very dark and very troublesome must have happened and we take care of our own." He sighed, a soft, sad sound. "And you should not have come into something this wondrous and frightening—alone. It should not have happened, for that, I am sorry."

Sorry? Harry remained silent. That was the first genuine apology he'd received from one of his own kind about what had happened to him. He didn't know what to think of it or what to do about it. He was also starting to find the hug a bit welcoming, there was a soothing hum of energy that was tightly wrapped around the man and some of its gentle warmth curled around him.

The teen shifted somewhat, attempting to make himself a tad more comfortable now that he could see Theo and the rest of his senses had caught up to him. His inner Dragel had calmed the moment that he'd fully wakened and registered Theo's magical signature hovering protectively over him. They were in a bubble. A very special sort of bubble. He took careful, methodical stock of his surroundings and present state.

Theo sat several feet in front of them, cross-legged, his hands clasped as if in prayer, his thumb and forefingers press together and pointing up, a dancing spark of golden energy balanced at the tip. His eyes were open wide—a detail Harry only noticed because the glow was bright enough to form a slight halo 'round his head. The suppression of raw magic nearly made him giddy, settling instead for sending rich vibrations of emotion through his body.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" Aracle smiled, wistfully. "It's almost addicting."

Theo's magic hummed steadily through the rooms.

It eased the ache in Harry's bones and coaxed him to relax, just a bit.

At some times, it was a visible golden ribbon drifting and floating through the room, occasionally curling around Ilsa or Charlie in alternate moments.

"What are they doing?" Harry wanted to recant the question almost the moment he'd asked it. He knew what they were doing, sort of, anyway.

"Ilsa's using him as a channel."

Harry bristled.

"Sorry, I don't mean using, I mean, they're kind of bouncing off each other." He tilted his head slowly. "See for yourself. Move slowly."

As if he hasn't told me that a hundred times already! But Harry followed the tilt and saw Ilsa sitting at Charlie's head, where he lay spread-eagled on the ground, in a position mirroring Theo's.

A brighter, bigger spark of white-gold hovered above her pointed fingers. Runes carved into the floor were filled with white light and a steady hum of magic reverberated throughout the room. Then, the hum quieted and the soft chanting grew stronger before the white mist blackened and then melted away to reveal the pair.

There, Harry finally saw the reason for the scent that had made him quite sick.

Charlie lay lifeless and unseeing in a pool of what could have been blood, but was far too thick and black to be mistaken for the bright red life-giving substance. Ilsa held a blade to her hand and continually painted one complicated symbol on Charlie's forehead, until the thin black dribbles running down his arms had melted into the finally shadows naturally surrounding his body.

A hollow emptiness thudded in his chest.

A low whimper came out.

Three answering rumbles of reassurance immediately came back to him.

Harry jerked around to stare at the man who now looked at him in all seriousness.

"He will be fine." Aracle said, quietly. "If anyone can help, Ilsa can. She has done this before."

"You are sure?"

"I would not lie."

Harry snorted.

The man looked affronted. "I would not." He protested.

"Why?"

One bushy eyebrow arched upwards. "Because I think of you as a friend." He said, simply.

"You don't even know me!"

"I know Theo." Aracle countered. "At least, I feel like I know him and I know that Ilsa knows him, so by default, I know you as well." He smirked. "And if I did not, I would not be sitting here, sharing the same space." The look on Harry's face, prompted him to explain a bit more. "By default, our cautious nature keeps our society well hidden. Because of that, if I did not know you and accept you into a circle, then we would not interact and you opinion of me would probably be something of a heartless bastard."

Harry scowled. "That's kind of…stupid."

"Not really." Aracle explained. "If your life hung by a single thread of revelation, you'd be twice as cautious and thrice as neurotic." His shoulders gave a simple twitch in a way that was his usual half-shrug. "Which is why there are so many different paths of communications, codes and behaviors. Once you are of age and inheritance, a mentor drills these into your head if you are not raised in the Dragel way. If you were, you parents and family circle did it for you and by the time you are of age and inheritance, you can apprentice yourself to a master of your element or craft choice and train beneath them. The period of training lasts anywhere from one to a few centuries. It is simply a part of life and near impossible to comprehend that someone would not have a guide of sorts." He frowned. "We are social creatures in our cravings for affection, belonging and validation. Circles allow us to do this." He frowned. "And it is not easy to distract a mentor from their intended mentee, which is something that worries me. You have told your alpha of this?"

"Of course!" Harry snapped.

"Has Theo told anyone else?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Professor Terius." He said, at last.

"And who would that be in relation to…?"

"Er, uh, one of the Dragels that lives in these quarters?" Harry bit his lower lip. "He teaches here, at the school."

"Ah." Aracle nodded, thoughtfully. "Terius sounds familiar, I don't suppose you would care to share the whole name?"

"Snape. Terius Snape." Harry supplied. "Do you know him?"

"I know of a certain Terius, but I don't believe his name is Snape and I didn't think that he'd be mated."

Dark eyebrows rose. "How can you tell?"

"You said one of the Dragels that lives in these quarters." Aracle smiled. "And he's scented the rooms. I can tell from there. They are also arranged rather traditionally, there are private quarters for the sub and alpha and a third resting room for the remaining mates."

"That sounds…lonely." Harry mused, he was slowly beginning to warm up to the fellow who was easily sharing the kind of informative tidbits that promised to be useful in the future.

"Only if they are quibbling over some matter." Aracle waved a hand dismissively. "Most subs sleep with their alpha and even if the other mates do not get along, they usually sleep with the sub and so they all end up in the resting room. Did this Terius notify anyone higher? Has he filed any notices or opened an inquiry into your missing mentor?"

"I don't know…"

"Did Theo do anything?"

"He said he would and not to worry about it."

"Hm." Aracle frowned. "Well, he certainly hasn't told Ilsa yet, which worries me. She'll likely have his head for it—and probably yours too. I'll see what I can do to get this rushed along. They'll search for your assigned mentor and until then, if you even think that you may have offended anyone, make a fist with your left hand, touch it to your right cheekbone and say 'please excuse my behavior, my mentor has yet to teach me'."

Harry stared at him.

The older Dragel was dead serious.

"But-?"

"You'll probably end up in Nevarah in rather short order, I'd expect." He frowned. "At least if Ilsa has anything to say to Theo and I am fairly certain she has quite a lecture lined up for him. You would probably like in Nevarah. It's different, a good kind of different, but there are many little quirks that will likely drive you crazy, until you can adjust. A bit of a culture shock, if you would."

The older Dragel hummed thoughtfully. "This present time is also 'hunting season' as they put it, for those looking to expand their mateship circles and that means there's plenty of short tempers, flaring hormones and pheromones and you may tread on more feet than you'd care to. That is a traditional excuse for someone who has not been in touch with their mentor to excuse what would be gravely impolite public behavior. A mentor can sometimes be more than just a parental teaching figure, they often take on your entire life and any public disturbance, duels engaged and such, can be handled through them, allowing protection of the 'young and foolish' so that foolishness doesn't waste the youth. I will admit that I was quite a handful for mine." The look on his face softened. "You needn't worry of it so, everything will work out in the end, most things do."
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There Be Dragons, Harry