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There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58400 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 27
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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NOTE: There is a lot happening in a short amount of time. This chapter focuses on Hermione. Her snippet flashes back to Sunday, while for Harry and Charlie, etc, they are on Monday Morning towards Noon. Remember that Hermione has been acting strange some time back(Harry noticed, but couldn't figure out why) and she disappeared from Hogwarts on Friday after lunch.

RECAP: Having survived the blood purification ritual, Charlie and Harry complete their mating in a guest bedroom within the Snapes' quarters. Theo, Ilsa and Aracle must wait while this happens. Professor Snape and Blaise have gone to the forbidden forest to investigate something that Blaise has mentioned. Previously, Hermione was woken by a black wolf-dog and carried deeper into the forest.

HOGWARTS GROUNDS : CENTER OF THE FORBIDDEN FOREST : SUNDAY EVENING

Hermione woke to the feeling of something warm and furry wrapped all around her. She was comfortable and content for the first few minutes while the rest of her mind caught up to the expected reality and her current state. She sat up with a jolt, working to stem her panic when she realized it was so dark that even her hand in front of her face couldn't be seen.

Hands that suddenly ached and felt weighted. Hermione cautiously felt along her wrists, a cold feeling of dread working over her as her fingers skimmed over thick, cool, metal bands, with intricate line woven through them and a fat gem in the center outside of the band. She could not find a clasp, but was thankful at least, that the cuffs didn't seem to be chained together. Her feet were fine, as far as she could tell, there were no ankle bindings around them.

Taking a quick, mental inventory of her faculties, Hermione was relieved to find that she could move every limb in question and that there were no specific injuries she could place. There were several aches and pains, of course, but those were to be expected. She'd determined that the rest of her physical person seemed to be in usable shape, her mind flickered to the next most important item.

Her magic flickered faintly and she choked back the emotion that threatened to come.

Wand, wand, wand…I did bring my wand…!

She thought, frantically, beginning to rifle through her sweater sleeves and feeling along her skirt for the wand holster that was usually there. Something whuffled and snorted behind her, prompting the young witch to freeze all movement. For a moment, she didn't dare breathe. Then, a tentative hand reached out to the warm, weighted, softness that pooled on her lap and she choked back a scream.

It had to be an animal of some sort, she could feel fur and the warmth radiating around her, suggested that it was a large creature, most likely wrapped around her. The fear melted away to a touch of desperation. She hadn't come to the woods to be captured by some mystery creature and dragged off to its lair.

She'd come to die.

Hermione swallowed hard, her memory piecing itself together as she remembered losing consciousness in the thick of the forbidden forest and then waking to see a half-wolf, half-dog anxiously nosing around her. Her last recollection had been when the creature had seized the back collar of her school uniform and carried her off.

One hand went to her forehead and after a moment, she rubbed her face and stifled a sigh.

Pull yourself together, Hermione Granger! She thought, sternly. These are not the circumstances you wanted, so you'd best keep your wits about you until they are!

It took some careful maneuvering, but she wriggled out from under the furry weight, relieved when her actions didn't seem to rouse the creature attached to what she figured was the tail. The steady, even breathing and the faint, rhymthic thumps alerted her to the fact that it was very much an animal and quite large, if her hearing was to be trusted. After some thought, she threw away the idea of the creature being the dog that had discovered her, as she could only recall it being slightly larger than average and certainly nothing unusual enough to warrant any worry.

With that idea firmly fixed in her mind, Hermione felt along the ground for her wand and came up empty-handed several minutes later. After a moment's deliberation, she decided to feel her way forward and use what limited awareness her magic could grant her.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd found herself tangled up in the midst of a dangerous situation. Hopefully it would be the last…

Moving slowly and carefully, she felt around the ground and right up to a wall, inching forward with cautious steps towards the one spot that seemed to somehow be a tad lighter than the rest of the surrounding darkness. She stumbled at one point, and fell forward to her knees, throwing out her hands to break her fall with a wince.

"Ow…" The exclamation was muffled in her jumper sleeve as Hermione swallowed hard. That had hurt far worse than she'd been expecting, but as a sudden wave of fatigue washed over her, she pieced together the answer. She'd left the castle on Friday, there was no telling how long she'd managed to survive where she was and a new dryness in her mouth, alerted to her to the fact that her body was now fully awake and demanding what it needed to continue living on.

The even breathing hitched.

Hermione held her breath.

A moment later, it continued on.

She swallowed back the sigh of relief and gingerly eased upwards to her feet once more, gently brushing herself off. She felt for the wall again, before starting forward once more. She took several large steps forward and felt a distinctly cool breeze wafting over her face. It smelled fresh, like the outdoors were wont to be after a good rain on a summer's day.

Must be getting close to the entrance…

She reached forward with one more hand and suddenly, the ground gave way beneath her.

The scream that bubbled up in her throat, stubbornly lodged there and a half-shriek, gurgling sound was the only noise that she made as suddenly she was falling. She flailed, desperately, hoping and trying to catch hold of something, anything to break her fall to keep her from whatever lay at the bottom of that deeper darkness.

Another sound escaped her throat and suddenly, she was jerked to a halt.

A strong hand caught the back of her uniform and another slipped under her arm and hauled her upright. She was held flush against a tall, warm body and then the hands shifted until one arm was wrapped tightly around her neck and a hand covered her eyes.

She struggled, weakly, as her waning strength began to ebb away. The hand around her eyes moved and suddenly, there was light.

"Ahh!" The soft cry was muffled and the next thing Hermione knew, she sat, perched on a rotting tree trunk, sitting opposite of a brooding young man with very pale skin and very red eyes, clad in very black clothes. There were several feet between them and he sat, perched on a dark chunk of rock, the fading light of day casting the last bit of illumination in their dangerous surroundings.

She could now make out her surroundings as being in nature, with the shadowed trees around, the occasional odd rustle and the eerie spookiness she'd come to associate with the Forbidden Forest. It had been the reason she'd chosen it for her last moments, after all. It had promised to end everything. She'd been counting on it, but now…

The young man moved, a subtle shift from simply sitting, to unfolding his crossed arms and crossing his long, lean legs. She could feel an aura of power fanning out from him, a vaguely suppressed magical signature and it was enough to set her on edge and guard. For all her careful planning and reasoning, something had gone wrong.

Vampire…?

Her mind supplied and subconsciously, she curled in on herself, even as outwardly she straightened and sat up tall.

No, that wasn't right. If it was a vampire, then there had been nothing to stop him from taking what he would have wanted and there was surely nothing to stop him now, after all, she didn't have her wand and her physical strength was nothing, considering the lack of food and current lethargy. A shiver rippled over her and she could not hold it back.

His glare seemed to deepen.

A moment of tense silence passed between them and then the young man moved. From the folds of his wispy black attire, he drew out a flash of silver and threw it forward.

Hermione jerked backwards, an automatic reflex she couldn't have stifled, even if she tried. She tried to calm her swiftly beating heart as her eyes took in the form of the object and relayed it to the rest of her confused self.

A knife.

He'd thrown an ornately carved and decorated knife at her feet, with a gleaming, silvery blade. It was the kind of ceremonial dagger that would've been passed down through generations and treasured as a familiar heirloom. Now, such a priceless treasure seemed to mock her as it stood proudly, half-embedded in the dark earth.

She met his burning, red-eyed gaze steadily.

Then those red eyes seem to burn into a deep burgundy. "I'm sorry," his voice was mocking. "I thought you intended to kill yourself, so I was merely facilitating the process. Don't let my presence disturb you. I would only stay long enough to retrieve the knife, it is priceless, you know. I have no use for a dead body and a human one at that."

Hermione nearly choked.

Dark eyebrows arched upwards on that pale, aristocratic face. "Ah, I apologize again. You wanted it to be painless, didn't you?" He held out his hand and the knife leapt back to thunk solidly in his palm. He rolled up one sleeve of his wispy, dark robe and drew the silvery blade across the pale flesh revealed. Instead of red, a thick line of black welled up from the new wound. The fellow coated the knife in the black fluid and then blew on the cut and the blade. The cut healed over at once, scarless, while the knife's bright silver gleam dulled to a darkened sheen.

He threw it again, with a flick of his wrist and this time, it embedded itself on the tree trunk to the left of Hermione's hand. "There you go. Perfectly charmed. It should be painless now." He folded his hands in his lap and waited expectantly.

Another moment of silence passed.

"It is quite sharp." He murmured. "It wouldn't take much pressure at all and 'tis only a single cut you would need. I doubt it would take much more, or a stab if you prefer."

Hermione drew herself up, her chin lifted a few degrees upward. "I don't know what you're talking about." She said, coldly. "I don't even know who you are. What do you want with me? And if you want nothing, then am I free to go?"

"What do I want with her, she says." He muttered, looking away. "Believe me, I do not want a single thing to do with you, but you are not free to go."

Trembling hands curled into fists and Hermione popped up to her feet, silently berating herself as she swayed, faintly. "What do you intend to do with me?" She demanded. "Am I you prisoner?"

"I have not decided yet." He returned, evenly. "And if you were a prisoner, make no mistake that you would not be standing on your own this very minute."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"An answer, for one." He rose with elegance and grace from his rocky perch. "There are far more convenient ways to kill oneself than leaving it up to the fates. Tell me, do you still wish to die?"

Hermione swallowed. "That's no business of yours." She managed.

"Mm, yes, of course, I'm sure." He snorted.

There was a blur and flicker of shadow. And suddenly, she was choking. Hermione summoned up her strength, clawing, kicking and struggling against the strong hands that closed around her vulnerable throat.

Let me go, you brute-!

The words were thought fiercely, as her voice refused to respond and survival instinct kicked in

When Hermione woke for the third time that day, the only light around was from the hearty glow of the campfire just a few feet away. She processed the fact that her neck throbbed and burned, fiercely, along with the fact that she lay face down in the damp, wooded floor, on her stomach. She could feel the points of twigs and brush poking up at her stockinged legs and was suddenly aware of the hunger gnawing in her stomach.

The blissful, blessed silence nearly brought tears of relief to her exhausted body. This silence, she'd craved and so desperately desired, a moment where her head wasn't filled to the brim with the insane babblings and chatterings that had haunted her from the start of the summer. Hermione didn't even try to move just resting there, her body sagging bonelessly in relief. Her hazy mind pieced together the fact that she actually hadn't heard any voices since she'd woken to see the black wolf-dog and also when she'd seen the strange pale man. She sluggishly plowed through the mental puzzle, trying and failing to come up with a workable solution.

There was no way any of it made any sense at all.

No sooner had she drawn that conclusion, then as quickly as that silence had come, a sudden rush of noise flooded through her head, drowning out every sane thought. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry as her hands scrabbled upwards to clutch at her ears, clawing at them, frantically.

She could hear them.

She could hear them all—again.

So many voices. So many beings. So many cries for help. All of them begging, pleading, shrieking for an intercession that she could not grant them.

No, no, no! I can't do this. Not again. Not anymore…no…!

She twisted, writhed and thrashed on the damp, forest floor until suddenly, something hard pressed down on her back.

A foot, her mind supplied, dimly. A booted foot.

There was muttering and grumbling directly overhead and the pressure on her back grew to an uncomfortable weight that she squirmed, but stopped thrashing about, having no other choice given. Cold, slender hands caught her wrists, one at a time and twisted them back behind her, snapping them into cool, metal cuffs.

She tried to resist, despite her position, but the cuffs went on anyway.

The moment they were on, the noise stopped.

Hermione froze.

The silence was back.

Her head throbbed something fierce, but it no longer felt as if it were on fire, about to burst from the sheer sensory overload. The weight on her back was removed and then those slender, elegant hands hooked under her arms and drew her upwards. She found herself being cuddled on a comfortable lap, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, body cuddled close to him.

She realized, belatedly, that she shivered in spite of the flickering fire and she trembled, even as one hand ran comfortingly up and down her back, in sure, smooth strokes. Somehow, her hands fisted in his overshirt and cloak, somehow, his dark hair formed a curtain that spilled over to provide a curtain of privacy for her flushed face, somehow, the steady, calming beat of his heart, anchored her.

"Silvertongue is not a cursed gift." His voice was rougher, deeper, than she remembered it being.

She shivered. That dark whisper right in her ear, drew all her emotions straight up to the front and laid them bare in the way that her body reacted.

"Not a curse." He continued. "A gift. Certainly not anything to kill yourself over." His grip on her waist tightened, crushing her to him. "A very rare gift, given only to those who are worthy and will not abuse it. To hear the voice of every living being, that is a difficult burden to bear alone, but it is not impossible and to be able to help those who are worthy of such aid, that is a miracle in itself."

She whimpered in reply. A hot thread of magical energy slowly seeped into her, coaxing heat into her chilled bones. She made to move her hand and stopped. This time, she could see the weight on her wrist, a beautiful golden wristcuff, with a glowing, ruby gem in the center of it, intricate carvings adorning the cuff all the way around. There was truly no clasp visible. She couldn't fathom how he'd gotten them on her.

Magic. Her brain supplied, belatedly. Of course.

He laughed.

The forest shivered.

"That is a gift, my little deathwish." The hands holding her, gentled. "Life is a precious thing that is not easily given nor taken. Consider these a gift," he held up one cuffed wrist. "You do not know the true price of death and you will suffer for it." Her breath hitched in her throat. "Death is not a forgiving mistress. She will laugh in the face of your distress and destroy you in a heartbeat, should it suit her fancy. Destruction by her hand is naught but torture, for if living will destroy you, then she will never let you die."

Hermione trembled again. A magical haze was slowly settling over her and she thought she could hear chanting, vaguely, in the background, somewhere.

"Your mind has drawn unnecessary conclusions, but your body betrays you." One slender-fingered hand stroked up her side, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. "You want to live. You do not wish to die, you foolish, mortal child." The tone was faintly scolding. "However, I cannot let such behavior pass unpunished."

She found her voice as that wayward hand caressed her neck and healing magic pulsed into her raw throat and aching body. Energy and vitality trickled in even as her flickering magic began to draw strength from the new energy being forcefed into her. "Please…please…" The words choked out as a haze of red and black settled over her. She didn't know what she was pleading for, only that she wanted—no—needed this…whatever 'this' was. "Please!"

"Far be it from me to deny you." He said, darkly, amusedly. "Your punishment will be living this very life you've deemed unnecessary." His hand settled on her bare stomach, coolness to the fire racing through her body. Hermione didn't even have time to figure how it had gotten there. There was no time to be embarrassed or mortified either. Things were happening too quickly. "And the price I have paid for you is the cost of your existence."

His cold hand suddenly burned with fire and Hermione screamed, even as the brand sank into the formerly unmarked skin. Her body continued to throb and burn in a pleasurable, painful haze of powerful magic and semi-consciousness. She heard the chanting grow louder and then, there was a faint whisper from over her head.

"Atrum onezus socium!"

Hermione, gladly blacked out—again.

"Harry?" Charlie reached, belatedly for the lithe figure slipping out of bed and scrounging around on the ground for the shredded scraps of clothes.

"Pants, Charlie." Harry's sleepy voice came out as something as a whine.

"What?"

"Want Theo." The words were slurred, the movements partially coordinated. "Hungry." He managed, around a yawn.

With some effort, the dragon tamer roused himself from the comfortable nest of soft blankets and wearily slid out from beneath the sheets. They'd had quite a time and in all honesty, he didn't really want to be up. "Hungry?" He repeated, his mind processing the request as a wizard-turned-new Dragel. His blue eyes flashed faintly. "Come here."

Emerald eyes blinked owlishly at him and then, Harry shuffled close, nuzzling his bare chest and snuggling into the opened arms. "Wha..?" He mumbled.

Charlie bit his lip for a moment. Instinct had compelled him to call, but now that he held the lovely bundle, all thoughts swiftly went south at anything remotely connected to food as skin-met-skin. Harry was warm and enticing without even trying. Charlie swallowed hard. "Er,"

"Food." Harry yawned, pressing a kiss to a section of bare skin. A moment later, his pink tongue flickered out and he lapped at the square of skin with a contented hum.

"Elves!" Charlie managed to get out. "House elves, food…!"

"Liefborne." Harry remembered and straightened. That was the password Theo had told him and the names were easy too. "Toppy, Middles?" There were two distinct pops. The brunet didn't even turn. "Hungry." He articulated, simply. The pops happened again and several seconds later, food arrived. A reluctant Harry released Charlie in favor of stuffing his face with the delicious, brightly colored chunks of fruit and raw cubes of meat. When his belly was comfortably full and slightly rounded, Harry gave one last yawn and straightened up, a flicker of green fire showing through.

The air in the room shifted, visibly and Charlie found himself straightening. "Harry?"

"Theo." The smaller Dragel rose, gracefully and rolled his shoulders, silver-peach scales melting back into skin as he turned towards the nightstand. A stack of fresh clothes awaited them. Harry smiled as he selected his set and pulled them on.

A jealous grumble rumbled through Charlie at the mention of the golden-eyed Slytherin. His instincts screamed at him to keep Harry with him and to stay away from the other Dragel at all costs. The redhead scowled. The Dragel that had given him this bite…he rubbed his aching shoulder, wincing again when fingers came into contact with tender skin.

"Theo can heal that." Harry said, quietly. "He has to."

Charlie perked a brow.

"He shouldn't have bitten you in the first place." Harry began. "But when you didn't accept me right away, he just did what he had to do."

"I don't understand."

"That's okay. We have a book." Harry winked. "You can read it later." Harry held out the fresh change of clothes. He felt more happy and content than he'd been in a while and suddenly, he really wanted to see Theo. Charlie had been marvelous, but Harry was anxious to bring his two mates together and see how it went from there.

A slightly cranky Charlie took the clothes and began to shimmy into them.

A/N: And I've survived finals week. *_* It was horrible. I am still in zombie mode. To clear up on some confusion and questions, I've some notes/explanations below.

NOTE: Aiden is a hellhound. he has a fascination with morbid things and he does know Death as one would expect of a hellhound. He hasn't told Hermione his name yet and she hasn't shared hers, hence the lack of 'names' in this snippet and since he's being a bit more hell than hound, we have the scenes above. Hermione is NOT going to be a pushover! But for now, she's hungry, exhausted in more ways than one and expected that she would be dead. She also has a fever and is somewhat delirious, so give her and Aiden a chance.

To clear up some confusion from the previous chapter:

Theo is not being abandoned by Harry! Yes, Harry slept with him first—that was in chapter 20—and they couldn't have been "fully" bonded for Harry to be acting as attached as he is, if he they hadn't completed that fourth step. The whole fighting with Theo bit isn't really a fight—and Theo obviously didn't take it this way when he laughed and told harry that he'd remember that.

DRAGEL INFORMATION: To facilitate the newest bonding of the newest mate, the sub will challenge the alpha for their right to take on a new mate and if the alpha has no objections—stopping them from initiating anything—then they proceed. Harry did this and was upset that even though Theo had accepted Charlie (through a mating mark—the bite-) he still refused to heal him. Now, when a mate must bond with the sub, the alpha cannot place a claim on them until the mating is completed. Theo did this on Harry's behalf, to lock in Charlie as part of their 'circle' and so that Ilsa would recognize him as part of his circle and agree to perform the blood ritual and also to calm Charlie's inner dragel, so he would have an easier acceptance of it, by sensing portions of a circle ready to accept him—this is the distinct emptiness that Charlie felt when he 'revived from his death state—the two empty hollows, this is a reflection of Harry's soulcry, in which he understood that Harry already had a mate. All other mates after this will have similar feelings, plus one, let them have some inkling of what their getting into when they are first solicited.

SOULCRY: a dragel's ultimate initiation call to complete their mated circle, demanding the missing portions of their soul to return and answer. This can call them back from the dead and can drag them in from another realm. A soulcry only happens under extreme emotional, physical and magical duress.

HEARTCRY: the initiation call from a receptive dragel to a prospective mate. It does not require emotional, physical or magical duress and can be used at will, if the submissive is willing.

All mates, once bonded, do become soulmates in that way, after a completed bonding/mating, there are more things than just bodies joining, during the final stage, so Theo is just as much a soulmate to Harry as Charlie is. My apologies if I did not state this clearly enough. ^_^'

If you have questions, ask away. I'll answer what I can. There are plenty of review replies on FF as well, for those of you who are interested. You might find answers to your questions before you even ask. ^_^

Jan & Savannah19742001--Thank you for reviewing. Glad you enjoyed it.

Tesgura--Um, oops? I knew I wasn't going to even think of updating while finals were underway, so I didn't want to leave everyone hanging. Dumbledore is not a Dragel, nor is he Harry's mentor and neither is Terius, otherwise he would've taken Harry under his wing immediately and not spared the other students a glance. Terius is a teacher back in Nevarah though, so he's kind of got a bit of 'mothering' inside of him, as far as looking after young, growing Dragels.

uneeded--Ah, sorry? LOL. I do write pretty fast, but generally, only two or three updates a week, depending and mostly on the weekends. It's Molly's mistake in binding her kids, one that will haunt her. Dumbles knows how to put his foot in his mouth and well, Harry's going to be finding out about his missing mentor once he reaches Nevarah and Ilsa has connections to get the investigation speeding along. at the moment, I need to wrap up several loose ends before I can send them to Nevarah.
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There Be Dragons, Harry