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Chapter Text

All Harry had ever wanted was a simple life. Ever since he'd come of age and escaped the Dursleys, he had been working hard as the apprentice of the local blacksmith, Sirius Black. When news trickled down from the castle that the Royal Princess, Severus Snape, had been captured by the enormous dragon that lived up on Gaunt Mountain, Harry was sure that many brave knights would be sent to rescue him.

In a sane, reasonable world, this would have been the case. In a sane, reasonable world, a fleet of knights would have been dispatched to retrieve the kidnapped princess, who would have returned safe and sound to the kingdom without a single scratch on his greasy head.

As fate would have it, the champion chosen to save the princess was none other than lauded knight Sir Gilderoy Lockhart.

"The princess is going to die," Ron confided. He had come by the blacksmith's shop to pick up new kitchen knives for his mother. "Lockhart is worse than useless. Just the other day I caught him dropping his sword into the lake. That dragon will eat him alive."

Harry couldn't quite believe his ears. "The dragon is peaceful, isn't it?" It had been living on the mountain for nearly two decades and had yet to so much as steal away livestock.

"Yes, well, it's taken the princess now," Ron argued. "That isn't the work of a peaceful dragon. I bet it's gone mad, up there all on its own with no company. It's going to eat the princess, and once it's finished digesting him, it will come down to finish off the rest of us one by one."

That sounded rather gruesome and unrealistic. "Did anyone see the dragon come down from the mountain?" Harry asked skeptically.

Ron frowned. "I don't know. But it must have, or why else would the royal family be telling us it took the princess?"

Harry had no answer to that. He wrapped up the Weasley's newly-sharpened knives in thick parchment, then tightly tied the bundle off with a length of coarse string. Once Ron was gone, however, Harry turned his mind back to the riddle of the dragon.

Ron was right. Lockhart was the last person in the kingdom who ought to be sent after a dragon, but not everyone knew that. Undoubtedly, the truth—that Lockhart was a better bard than knight—would come to light soon and a new champion would be chosen.

Later that afternoon, Sirius tasked Harry with mucking out the stables. They did not house many horses often—most days there was only Sirius' horse, Padfoot, tucked away in a stall—but recently they had been paid well to re-shoe three of the Malfoys’ horses, and so there was plenty of cleaning to do.

Harry didn't mind; he was no stranger to filthy messes and Sirius was by far more benevolent to him than the Dursleys had ever been. Besides, Harry liked spending time with Padfoot. 

Harry took his time mucking out the stalls, cleaning and refilling the water buckets, and replacing the bedding. All the while, he kept up a friendly stream of chatter for Padfoot, who listened attentively and whinnied in all the right places.

Before Harry was finished with the stalls, Sirius popped in to check on him.

"Once you're finished up here, Harry, you're done for the day, alright?" Sirius said. "I'm headed out to the pub now." He gestured over his shoulder. "You can join me if you want?"

"I'm alright," Harry said. He didn't feel like the noise and commotion of the Hog's Head tonight. "Thank you, sir."

Sirius nodded. "Good night, then."

"Good night." Harry smiled.

Once all the tasks were done, Harry hung around the stables a while longer, petting Padfoot and feeding him treats. Funny how a horse was better company than most people he knew.

"You're a good horse," Harry told Padfoot. He gave the horse's neck a rub. Padfoot had been tetchier than normal today, which Harry attributed to the presence of the three unfamiliar horses in the stable. "Bet you'll be glad once the rest are gone, won't you?"

Padfoot snorted a hot gust of air all over Harry's face in response. Harry laughed and gave the horse a hug before he closed up the stable for the night.

When he was finally done and ready to go home, it was dark outside. Harry eyed the pub, which was two shops down across the way. Torches cast the pub's patio in a warm, fiery glow. There were a number of people seated outside enjoying the warm weather. Harry didn't doubt that Sirius was one of them.

The crowd was so noisy that Harry could hear them from where he was. It seemed like half the village had chosen tonight to gather together. Harry decided he would stop by to say hello before going home for supper.

Ron spotted him right away and waved him over to a table. "Harry! Come have a drink!"

"Hello," Harry greeted, smiling and waving. "How is everyone?"

"Word is that Lockhart left some hours ago for Gaunt Mountain," Ron said with a sage nod. His serious facade held for all of one second before his lips twitched into an ear-splitting grin. "We've got a betting pool going for how many days it'll take for them to find the body. D'you want in?"

"No, thanks." Was anyone at all taking this seriously? Regardless of whether the dragon was dangerous or not, the princess was still missing. "I was just on my way home," Harry elaborated. "Thought I'd say hello."

"Stay for a drink," Ginny encouraged him, gesturing to the seat next to her. "We're having a good time."

Harry shook his head. "Headache," he lied. "Going to eat and go straight to bed."

"Well, maybe tomorrow then. When we get the news that Lockhart's been made into roast knight, Hermione's promised to bake biscuits," Ron said brightly.

"I did not!" Hermione protested. "I merely said that—"

"Feel better," Neville interjected. "A warm, damp cloth will work wonders."

"I'll try that," Harry agreed. "Thanks."

He bid his friends farewell for the day and turned away from the cheery atmosphere of the Hog's Head. Everyone seemed so happy that Harry almost felt bad about leaving them for the night, but he was not in a social mood. What he wanted was the calm quiet of his little rented room, to have the window open and the warm summer breeze ruffling his hair.

He was not five paces away from the pub when he caught sight of a large shadow creeping along the opposite side of the road. Sirius' shop and the Hog's Head were located on the wide main street that led out to the castle gates.

Harry squinted. His night vision was not the best, but he thought the shape was that of a man leading a horse.

Suspicious, Harry stepped closer, intent on tailing the mysterious figure. Harry had locked up the stables before leaving, but maybe this man had somehow broken in and stolen a horse? The idea was absurd, but the anxiety deep in Harry's gut told him that if he did not investigate, he would worry all night about it.

Soon enough, the identity of the potential culprit came into clear view. The shiny locks of blond hair, ostentatious gold-trimmed armour, and lush, vibrant purple cape could only be one person.

This was Gilderoy Lockhart.

Harry couldn't help the words that spilled out of him next, giving away his presence and his position in one go.

"Aren't you supposed to be rescuing the princess?"

Sir Lockhart startled so badly that Harry had the momentary fear that the man would fall over.

"What?" Lockhart blurted, whirling about. "Whatever do you mean, boy?"

"You're Sir Lockhart," Harry said slowly. "You're supposed to be out rescuing the princess! What are you doing here?"

"I, well—" Lockhart babbled. "You know—"

"You are going to rescue him, aren't you?" Harry demanded. "You're not just going to let him wander out there on his own?"

"There is a dragon out there, you know," Lockhart said defensively.

"It's a peaceful dragon!" Harry said. "It's never eaten anyone before. I certainly don't think it's going to start now."

There was another pause, and then everything escalated all at once.

Lockhart tried to reach for his sword. Unfortunately, the gaudy, decorative handle had tangled up in the belt he was wearing.

After a moment's struggle that Harry watched in utter confusion, Lockhart gave up and reached for a dagger instead. The dagger had the advantage of being simply made and was therefore unable to catch against the thick velvet sash that Lockhart had wound around his waist.

However, no ease of retrieval could make up for Lockhart's lack of skill. This lack was made more apparent when Lockhart waved his dagger wildly in the air, somehow lost his grip on it, and launched it in the direction of his horse.

To say the horse shrieked would have been an understatement. It bellowed, loud enough that Harry's ears protested, before taking off in the direction of the castle gates, shoes clopping loudly on the cobblestone path.

Both Harry and Lockhart froze, then slowly pivoted in the direction of the pub, where the noises of merriment had paused.

"You're in for it now," Harry told him. "They're all going to know you were trying to run away."

A few people were already running over. Lockhart glanced wildly from Harry, to the people, to the distant place where his horse had fled. His eyes were wide with panic.

Harry was not above tackling Lockhart if the man tried to escape, and perhaps Lockhart could tell that Harry was committed because his feet remained firmly in place.

"Harry?" Sirius asked as he ran up. When his gaze flicked over to Lockhart, his face scrunched in distaste. "What's going on here?" To Lockhart, he added, "Didn't you leave earlier today?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak and was promptly bowled over by Lockhart saying, "Brave young Harry here tracked me down and insisted on coming with me to rescue the princess!"

"What?" said Sirius.

"What?" said Harry.

"I have never taken on a squire before, but after some consideration, I realized that I had given Harry less credit than he was due!" Lockhart slapped Harry on the back so hard that Harry stumbled forward a step. "I made haste to, er, turn around, yes, to come back to the village and agree to his noble request. Such a brave young man. So like me when I was that age."

"Is this true, Harry?" Sirius asked. He sounded baffled.

"No," Harry said hotly. "It isn't true."

"Nonsense!" Lockhart's smile was so wide that the gleam of his teeth could have put out the eyes of the blind. "There is no need to be so self-effacing, my boy! The path of a knight is an honourable one, after all, and there is no better teacher than myself."

Harry couldn't believe any of what was coming out of Lockhart's mouth. "I don't want to be a knight."

"So modest." Lockhart tried to smack his back again, but this time Harry dodged. "Harry and I will leave tomorrow morning to seek the dragon!"

More people had gathered around and some let out a cheer in response to Lockhart's words. Those would be Sir Lockhart's supporters, Harry thought distractedly. Those who genuinely believed that Lockhart was a good knight.

If Lockhart was allowed to stay the night in the village, he would find another way to escape, and Harry would be left to answer all the uncomfortable questions.

It didn't matter that Lockhart had just lied through his teeth. He would get away with doing nothing, and when he 'returned' in a few days, he would likely tell everyone that Harry had been too cowardly to come with him after all.

"No," Harry said loudly, mind made up. "We'll leave right now. It'll take us all night to reach the mountain anyway. By the time we arrive, it will be early morning and the dragon won't be expecting an attack in broad daylight."

Lockhart spluttered at him. "There's no rush, certainly—"

"The princess is in danger," Harry reminded Lockhart and, subsequently, the gathered adoring crowd. "I hardly think we have time to waste, don't you? You already took the time to come back for me. I'd hate to cause more delays. Princess Severus could be dead by morning if we don't hurry."

Harry turned to Sirius. "Can I take Padfoot?"

Sirius blinked at him. "I—of course you can, Harry. You can take Padfoot. I can loan you a sword, too, but what—"

"Great." Harry forced a smile. To his left, Lockhart was visibly faltering. "Do we need anything else? Extra food?"

"My mum's always got leftover baked goods," Ron said slowly. "I can go fetch some."

"Excellent." Harry clapped his hands together. "Lockhart's also lost his horse, so we'll need another one for him as well. Maybe one of the Malfoys'? Surely they won't mind donating a palomino to such a noble cause."

"I'm sure they'll agree wholeheartedly," Sirius said with a snicker. "You've got yourself a horse, Harry. Anything else?"

"While you're off gathering all that," Lockhart interjected, "I must retrieve something from my house."

"But you have to come see the horses," Harry said brightly. "Some of them can be quite temperamental, you know. It's important that one gets along with their horse."

"Perhaps," Lockhart agreed. "But after—"

"I'm sure whatever it is can wait till we return." Harry patted Lockhart on the shoulder. "After all, with a man of your achievements, it could hardly take us longer than the morning to finish off the dragon."

"I, yes." Lockhart looked around at the gathered villagers. "You're right, yes. Why don't we go see the horses now while your friend visits the bakery?"

Harry suspected that Lockhart was hoping for less witnesses. "Sounds like a plan."

The crowd dispersed; people were ready to turn in for the night now that the excitement had finished. Harry and Ron made plans to meet in front of the pub in an hour, and then Sirius led both Harry and Lockhart back to the blacksmith's shop, where Lockhart inspected each of the Malfoy family's three horses while under Sirius' watchful eye.

"Are you sure about this?" Sirius asked Harry while Lockhart tentatively patted the shoulder of a large friesian.

"The dragon is harmless," Harry said. "What we need is someone to go out and look for the princess, and no one will agree to search parties while they think this idiot's out there battling the dragon on the mountain."

"Still," Sirius said in a low voice. "Be careful. Who knows what this one will do." He jerked his head at Lockhart. "If things start to look bad, you turn right around and come home, you hear me? If that means leaving him behind, then you do that."

"Alright," Harry said. The idea didn't sit well with him, but he knew that Sirius was right. "I promise."

"Good lad." Sirius tugged him into a one-armed hug and ruffled his hair. "Can't leave me to deal with the Malfoys on my own."

Harry snorted. "Of course not."

"Once you're back and knighted by the king, make sure you mention how great blacksmith Sirius Black is, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah." Harry grinned. "Soon you'll be shoeing royal horses instead of snobby ones."

"That's the spirit!" Sirius gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze then wandered over to Lockhart. "Oi! You done manhandling the merchandise yet? These horses aren't the cheap sort. They can taste weakness."

In short order, both Harry and Lockhart were saddled and ready to leave the kingdom. Ron dumped an entire satchel bag of pastries into Harry's arms and shot him a look that was quite clearly meant to question his sanity. Harry tried to smile and must have been mildly successful because Ron rolled his eyes and gave Padfoot's neck a brief rub.

"You couldn't have waited for my bet to pull through?" Ron joked.

"Nope," Harry said. "You know me. Sticking my nose into trouble left and right."

"Well, I'd say Lockhart is more trouble than he's worth." Ron paused. "Which isn't saying much, I suppose, seeing as he's not worth much."

Harry groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Just don't die," Ron advised. "Better to be a coward than to become dragon food."

Harry didn't know why everyone was so insistent on this dragon being dangerous. "Sure, sure," he agreed. "I already promised Sirius I'd turn around if there was trouble."

"Good." Ron seemed relieved. "Come back soon. And don't forget about the rest of us peasants once you're knighted."

"I doubt I'll be knighted," Harry said. "But thanks."

"Time to go!" Sirius said. He had the lead of Lockhart's horse in hand. "You'll want to head out now if you plan to reach the base of Gaunt Mountain’s before dawn."

Harry nodded. Sirius handed the extra lead to him; Harry gripped it tight and angled Padfoot towards the main path. "Let's go," he said to Lockhart.

Hopefully, Lockhart wouldn't try to run away on foot before they made it past the kingdom walls. Harry was certain that once they were outside, Lockhart would be too afraid to leave the horse and wander off in the dark, and seeing as Harry now had his own sword, Lockhart wouldn't be trying anything violence-related again.

If Lockhart killed or injured Harry, there would be no one to protect him. Harry had made sure to emphasize this fact multiple times.

Harry guided their horses towards the gate, where he greeted the gatekeeper, a grumpy old man named Filch who let them through after berating them for the late hour.

Lockhart was very quiet as they rode into the darkness. As the useless one, Lockhart had been tasked with holding the lantern. Harry had his reservations about this decision, but it wasn't as if there were any better alternatives. In the worst case where Lockhart ran off, Harry would simply use the moonlight until dawn rose.

Every so often, there would be a noise—the rustle of leaves, the hoot of an owl, or the faint screech of a bat. Lockhart jumped at all of them, going as far as to insist to Harry that there were monsters and he ought to be prepared to battle them to the death.

Perhaps Lockhart was hoping that Harry would get scared and take them home, but Harry was not afraid of the forest. So long as they kept to the main trails, they would be fine. People travelled these paths all the time and nothing happened to them. That didn't change just because they were moving in the dark.

On they went, with Lockhart's lantern and the light of the moon guiding their way. Harry made careful note of the signs they passed and the turns they took. He had been to the base of the mountain a few times to collect specific plants for his aunt, but it had been some time since he'd made the journey on his own.

When he and Lockhart arrived, they would begin their search by looking for clues. There had to be some reason why everyone believed the dragon had taken the princess. Harry would find out why.

Some hours later, Harry could feel his eyes beginning to burn with exhaustion, but there was no time for sleep. Besides, he'd worked through longer nights more tortuous than this one. To wake himself up, Harry sipped from his water flask to keep his free hand occupied. Occasionally, he would check on Lockhart, who had lapsed into longer periods of terrified silence the deeper they went into the forest.

By the time dawn broke, Harry was yawning and Lockhart was half-asleep, slumped on top of his palomino horse. It was entirely possible that the only thing keeping Lockhart awake and upright was the lantern he was holding.

Harry swapped the horse lead to his other hand and stretched his shoulders out. "Almost there," he said loudly, startling Lockhart for what had to be the umpteenth time.

Indeed, Gaunt Mountain was looming closer than ever. Harry could make out the large cave partway up which was where the dragon was rumoured to live.

Lockhart squinted blearily at the brightening sky. "Have we found him? Can we go home yet?"

"Get it together," Harry said sharply. "We've got to look for clues."

"Like what?"

"Footprints, scraps of torn fabric. Things like that." Harry located a suitable tree and dismounted so he could tether their horses. "Don't try anything," he warned Lockhart. "Padfoot knows you're not to be trusted and I doubt you'd be able to make your way back without getting lost."

Lockhart grumbled several insults that Harry paid no mind to, and nearly fell off his horse as he tried to dismount. Harry resisted the urge to laugh and began to examine the area.

At first glance, there was nothing out of place, but as Harry continued to look around, he noticed another set of hoof prints stomped into the ground. Not only that, but the set of new hoof prints meant that whoever had been here, they had arrived on only one horse.

"Look," Harry said, gesturing. "Someone's been here."

Lockhart came over and stared at the ground. "Those were made by a royal horse."

"How do you know?"

"It's in the pattern," Lockhart said. "You can see the shape of the royal seal at the top. The princess must have passed through."

Harry squatted so he could take a better look. There was a vague shape at the top that could have been the royal seal. Lockhart would know more about that than he would. "Alright. Time to see where these go."

As it turned out, the hoof prints ended in a spot at the base of the mountain that clearly led up to the dragon's cave.

"No," Lockhart said. "No, no, no."

Harry was now calculating how long it would take him to climb up to the cave. The existing path would take him about a third of the way, after which he would have to get creative and use some rope.

With a huff, Harry turned back to Lockhart. There was no way Lockhart would come with him to the cave. If he left Lockhart behind, the man might get frightened and run off even though he had no idea how to get home.

"Let's go back for the horses," Harry said decisively.

"And go home?" Lockhart asked in a hopeful tone.

"No," Harry retorted. "I'm going up to the cave. You can wait down here with the horses. If you get scared, you can ride yours back down the path to the crossroad and wait for me there." That was likely the best case scenario for them if things went south.

Lockhart scowled but didn't argue. They went back for the horses and led them over. Harry handed Lockhart both leads, but Padfoot whined anxiously as Harry patted his head and told him to be good.

Then, after steeling his nerves, Harry turned away to begin his ascent of Gaunt Mountain. His hand lingered on the hilt of his sword, the sword that Sirius had chosen for him.

Things were... not looking great for the dragon's innocence at the moment. Harry sighed. If the dragon had taken the princess captive then they were in for some trouble. Hopefully, it could be reasoned with. Some kingdoms did that. They gave dragons treasure and livestock in return for protection. It wasn't the best solution, but it would serve to see the princess to safety.

Harry reached the end of the mountain path. There was a pile of rope and a metal hook resting a few paces away. Someone must have used it to climb up the side of the cliff. Harry dumped his own rope on the ground and went over to investigate.

The discarded rope was perfect. There was nothing wrong with it. The knots were fine and the metal hook was also fine. Well then. Harry hefted both rope and hook in hand and looked up to the mouth of the cave. There was a decent spot halfway up that seemed good to aim for. Harry could climb to that point, retrieve the hook, then toss it again.

Plan made, Harry stepped away from the mountain face and swung the hook around and around several times before he released the end and watched it curve up towards the platform. It landed with a solid but distant thunk, catching somewhere on the ground.

Harry cast a cautious glance at the cave opening, but no giant dragon came peering over the edge, so he felt it was safe to start climbing. He tugged on the rope, testing it with his weight. Once he was confident it would hold, he approached the bottom of the cliff face and started to haul himself up.

Up and up he went, a few metres at a time. When Harry reached the tiny platform that jutted out from the cliff face, he turned around to check on Lockhart and the horses. All three were still at the bottom of the mountain. Harry waved at them. Lockhart did not wave back, but that was to be expected.

Harry wrenched the hook out of the ground and glanced up. This time he would be throwing somewhat blindly, which made him nervous. While he was climbing, he would have no way of defending himself.

In the back of his mind, he could hear Sirius berating him for risk taking. Oops. Harry started to swing the hook. Too late to turn back now.

The hook went up. It landed. Harry heard the metal catch. He tugged on the rope to test the hold and found that it was good.

Now to climb.

Harry swallowed and gripped the rope with both hands. "You can do it," he told himself. "It's just a cave." He hoped.

Harry began to climb. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could hardly hear his own laboured breaths.

He was several metres off the ground when the hook shifted. Immediately, Harry's stomach swooped with terror, his hands clammy with sweat. While a fall from this height to the small platform wouldn't kill him, if he missed it and fell to the ground far below, then he certainly would die.

The hook wailed high above, metal scraping against the ground. Due to his panic, Harry couldn't think straight, could not register the fact that he was rapidly ascending once more until he was nearly at the top.

Someone or something was reeling him in.

Harry flew upwards, became level with the entrance, then kept going up until he was hovering half a metre above the ground. He clung to the rope with every ounce of strength he possessed as his legs flailed, trying to spin himself around to face the cave opening so he could see—

Something gripped his shoulder and gently rotated him around. Harry was breathing raggedly, chest heaving and knuckles white as he was suddenly face to face with a living, breathing dragon.

"Why, hello there," crooned the dragon, examining him with its gleaming red eyes. "What a pretty little thing you are, wandering into my home. I'd refer to it as an invasion but—" It paused, long tongue flickering out as if to re-taste the air now that Harry had arrived to contaminate it. I'd hardly call your presence unwanted," it finished in a rumble.

The dragon was at least twice as large as Harry was, and covered in shiny, deep green scales that would have looked at home in the middle of the forest. Four limbs, a two-pronged tail, and two large black horns left no doubt that this was the very dragon that villagers had often spotted flying in the distance.

Harry licked at dry lips but found himself unable to formulate a response. The dragon's piercing gaze was unnerving and Harry's hands had gone numb from clinging to the rope. The longer the dragon's ruby eyes looked at him, the larger they seemed to get.

“Ahem.”

The dragon growled, swinging about and taking a dangling Harry with him. Harry let out an indignant squawk at the sudden mmotion, but that sound promptly died in his throat as he caught sight of Princess Severus Snape standing inside the cave, very obviously alive and unharmed, arms folded across his chest and a most displeased expression on his face.

Harry coughed. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were uncomfortably warm. "H-hello, your Majesty. I'm here to, er, rescue you?"

"How touching," drawled the princess. "I should have realized only a peasant would be idiotic enough to climb up here."

The dragon set Harry down on the ground and scoffed, only the scoff was less an assertion of distaste and more like a faint jet of flame that jumped out in the princess' direction. No, wait, that was definitely a jet of flame.

The princess was utterly unmoved by this display, though Harry noted the flames never got close enough to touch. "Are you going to eat him?" the princess demanded.

"No," retorted the dragon. A clawed hand gripped Harry by the waist and tugged him close. Harry... was too confused to do anything other than let it happen.

"Then drop him back down on the ground and send him on his merry way."

"I'll drop you on the ground," the dragon muttered. It turned away from the princess to look back at Harry. "What might your name be, precious?" it asked sweetly.

"My name is Harry?" It came out as a question, which was embarrassing, but there was nothing to be done about that.

"Harry," repeated the dragon. "Lovely name. Much better than Severus."

Harry blinked and, with great reluctance, glanced over at the princess, who looked furious. "Sorry," Harry said weakly, wondering why he was apologizing on behalf of a dragon.

"Nothing to be sorry for," the dragon said airily. "In fact, pretend he isn't here." A single clawed finger brushed at the messy bangs that covered Harry's forehead. "You may call me Tom," the dragon added.

"You never told me your name," the princess snapped. "I've been calling you dragon this entire time!"

"You didn't hear anything," Tom said calmly to Harry. "Now, did you come here all on your own? Scale the cliff all on your own?"

Harry gaped for a moment. "Er, no. There's someone waiting for me at the bottom."

"Who?"

"A knight," Harry admitted. "Sir Gilderoy Lockhart."

"They sent Lockhart? You and Lockhart?" Severus said in disbelief. "You'd think they wanted me to die up here."

Warm dragon snout nudged against Harry's face. Harry spluttered and tried to stagger back, but the hand—claw, whatever—hooked around his waist kept him firmly in place.

"What are you doing?" he asked Tom, who blinked large, unrepentant eyes at him.

"I wasn't done asking questions."

"Oh. Sorry," Harry said, flustered. Then he remembered why he was here, which was to rescue a princess, and asked, "Why are you keeping the princess here?"

"Keeping?" Tom scowled, then bared his teeth in the direction of Princess Severus. "You've mistaken the situation, precious Harry. He is the one who won't leave."

The princess didn't want to leave the cave? Harry tried and failed to wrap his head around the concept. Princess Severus seemed very angry; why would he insist on staying? Surely no member of royalty wanted to live in a cave with a dragon.

The cave was... Harry glanced around. The cave was not a cave, actually. It extended into a tunnel that went on and on until its path faded into a curious darkness. But this space was made of dirt and rocks, which meant it was no place for a princess.

"Is that true?" Harry asked Severus. "Are you here because you want to be?"

The princess rolled his eyes. "Yes. I came here to request the dragon's aid. I brought gold and jewels in exchange for safe passage to another kingdom."

Harry still didn't understand. "You want to leave? Why?"

"Why else? Because they treat me like a delicate flower incapable of higher thought processes," Severus said, lip curling in distaste.

"He wishes to practice potion making," said Tom, now carding clawed fingers gently through Harry's sweaty, dishevelled hair. "They won't let him. He's been sneaking out of the castle to gather ingredients. They caught him a week ago and confiscated everything, which is why he has decided to run away."

The detached tone of Tom's storytelling was at odds with the way his warm, scaly limbs were gradually encircling Harry's body like metal chains. "You know, your eyes are like emeralds," Tom added in a thoughtful voice.

Harry struggled to follow the sudden topic change. He was sure that if he was to catch sight of his reflection, his blush would be distressingly apparent. "Ah, thank you?"

"Anyway," snapped the princess, "I refuse to leave until he agrees to transport me across the ocean."

"I won't," said Tom. To Harry, he added, "Let me show you the rest of my home."

Harry wanted to agree, but— "Sir Lockhart is waiting for me to come back," he said slowly. "If I don't come back, he'll think I've been killed."

"And?" Tom asked. It was the first time he had sounded impatient with Harry. "You aren't dead. I'm not going to harm you."

"He'll run off," Harry protested.

"And?"

Harry tried to think it through logically. Lockhart still had both horses, but Padfoot was unlikely to leave without Harry in tow. Would Lockhart hurt Padfoot? Probably not.

If Lockhart somehow made it back to the village, he would tell everyone that Harry and the princess were dead. If he did not, if he got lost instead, then Harry might feel obligated to track the man down and drag him home.

"Lockhart may be useless," Harry said, "but he isn't stupid. If he gets back to the village, he'll make up all sorts of lies and there will be no one to stop him."

Tom's grip on his waist did not let up in the slightest. "Let him lie, then. His words mean nothing."

"Maybe you don't care," Harry said, frustrated, "and maybe you don't care since you're leaving," Harry added to Severus, "but I want to go home. I have friends there!"

Harry's impassioned exclamation must have done the trick because Tom finally released him and took a step back.

"Fine," Tom said, sounding strangely put upon for a dragon. "I will go take care of him. Wait here for me and do not go anywhere. You will not like what happens if you do."

With that, Tom tromped over to the cave's entrance and leapt over the edge. Harry could hear Lockhart's terrified scream from down below.

"Wait," Harry said, only there was no one to tell to wait. Disoriented and confused, Harry turned to Severus, who merely raised a brow at him as if to say, 'What did you expect? He's a dragon'.

"Is—" Harry tried again, but this time he was cut off by a loud wail of—of—

It had to be terror, didn't it? It was a wail of terror because Lockhart was afraid of everything.

Down below, the horses, too, were yelling. Harry unstuck his feet from the ground, Tom's warning gone from his mind, and ran to the cave's entrance to see what had happened.

The other horse was nowhere in sight, but Padfoot had backed away to hide in a clump of trees while Tom... while Tom roasted a human-sized clump of molten metal using a searing jet of bright orange flames.

"Stop that!" Harry said, panic shooting up his spine as he realized that yes, the pitiful lump on the ground was Lockhart being burned alive in his shiny silver armour.

Tom paused for breath, called out, "He's nearly done," then resumed his efforts in cooking Lockhart alive.

Oh, god. Harry felt nauseous. Tom was cooking. Without any conscious decision, Harry stumbled backwards into the cave, tripped over nothing and sprawled onto the ground, appalled by what he'd just witnessed.

The princess came to loom over him. "Get up," he snapped. "Don't tell me you're going to vomit. What did you think was going to happen? He's a dragon. He eats people."

Harry's automatic protest of 'But this dragon doesn't eat people!' was absolutely no longer an appropriate response now that he'd seen a man wearing a full suit of armour burned to death.

"But he's never attacked the village before," Harry said weakly as he picked himself up off the floor.

"He's never attacked our kingdom," Severus said. "There are plenty of others nearby to pick from." He pinched the bridge of his nose, then continued, "I'll admit, he's cleverer than other dragons I've heard of. From what I can tell, he spends most of his time plotting the downfall of these other dragons. Then he slaughters them and adds their hoards to his own."

It was a clever ploy, Harry could agree. Most dragons must have grown lax from preying on the weaker, more vulnerable humans that lived in villages. They would not expect an attack to come from another dragon.

There was the flap of wings from the entrance, signalling Tom's return. Harry spun about, but the sound of Lockhart's warped and distorted armour hitting the cave floor reached his ears just before he managed to lay eyes on it.

The body, if it could even be called that anymore, was cooling—thin tendrils of smoke curled upwards in ghastly patterns. It all smelled terrible and wretched, like something that had been left forgotten on a campfire for several days.

Harry fought back his nausea to ask in a small, horror-stricken voice, "Tom, what have you done?"

"I took care of him." Tom nudged the corpse with a clawed foot; the body rolled onto its side with a low clang that echoed throughout the cave. "See? No more lies."

Tom was not wrong, but he was also... not right. "You can't just murder people!" Harry protested.

Tom was currently in the process of prying off Lockhart's melted chestplate. There was an eerie tilt to the dragon's head. The entire panorama reminded Harry of a small child he had once seen prodding at a dead frog.

"He's a charlatan," Severus said, waving a dismissive hand at Lockhart. "Hardly a loss to productive society."

Tom finally popped the chestplate off with a slash of his clawed hand. The metal was flung aside; it smacked into the cave wall. 

The harsh noise made Harry jump. "But—" Harry started, then trailed off as Tom bent his head to sniff the body.

"I doubt he tastes good," said the princess. "Unless you enjoy the taste of idiot."

Harry choked on a hysterical laugh, then promptly shut his mouth as Tom swivelled to stare at him.

The corpse was then abandoned by Tom in favour of barreling over and nudging Harry in the stomach. Harry gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, his feet lifted clear off the ground as his hands flailed against the dragon's head, and settled for gripping onto the two large black horns that protruded from the top.

"Climb on," Tom rumbled. His hind legs dropped to the ground with a thud.

Harry let out a breathless sound and released Tom's horns so he could place his feet firmly back on the cave floor.

"Don't do that," Harry said, aiming for 'stern' but coming off as more confused than he would have liked to be. Still, Harry obeyed, moving to the side so he could examine the dragon's back for the best place to sit.

Tom's spine was bumpy and as scaly as the rest of him, but there was a downward sloping curve that looked like the correct place for someone to sit themselves. Harry placed a careful hand on the dragon's warm back and did an awkward hopping mount to get his leg high enough to swing over. Even though Tom had sat down, he was still significantly taller than a horse and there was no stirrup to help Harry climb on.

Once Harry was settled in place, Tom took off running down the cave tunnel. Harry yelped and clung for dear life, plastering himself to the dragon's back as they picked up speed, leaving the entrance, the princess, and the corpse behind.

Harry did not tell Tom to slow down, and Tom seemed to take this as encouragement to go faster. They sprinted through the tunnel faster than Harry could have thought possible. But when the end of the path came into view, Tom still did not slow down.

Harry experienced a fleeting moment of renewed anxiety as Tom leapt over a sheer drop of at least several hundred metres, but then Tom's dragon wings unfurled, spreading wide and carrying them through the air.

Tom flew them towards the bottom of the chasm, spiralling all the way down. Unthinkingly, Harry let out a whoop, relinquishing his iron grip on Tom's neck to examine their surroundings with interest. The chasm was mostly drenched in darkness, but there was a medium-sized fire burning brightly in the darkness.

They landed with a skid that splattered dirt all over Harry's trousers. Tom's wings flapped several more times before they went still and flat against his sides. Harry slid off with wobbly legs, eager to see where it was that Tom lived. The fire was a few paces away, and its glow was bright enough that Harry could make out the gigantic piles of treasure behind it.

There was a lot of treasure. Enormous chests full of coins, to start with, and heaps of gold items: plates and goblets, candlesticks and pocket watches, necklaces and bracelets. Then there were the jewels, one pile dedicated to each type: rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, and pearls. The amount of excess was dizzying. What did a dragon need with all of this treasure?

Tom nuzzled Harry's forearm with his warm snout. "What do you think?" Tom asked. "Do you like it?"

"It's very..." Harry struggled for the right word. "Organized. And big." Was this all that there was? Where was the bed? Did Tom need a bed?

Tom harrumphed and stomped off towards one of the piles. Harry stayed where he was, unsure what to do. When Tom came back, he had multiple items draped over his left hand, all of which he laid at Harry's feet.

"These," he said, gesturing, "are my favourites."

Harry knelt down to examine them. Golden cup and golden ring. Silver locket and silver crown.

"They're nice," Harry said. He picked up the cup to test its weight and was unsurprised to find out it was solid gold. "Do you keep them in a special place?"

"Yes." Tom scooped up the locket with a single claw and swiftly deposited it around Harry's neck. The cold metal was like a balm against Harry's flushed, sweaty skin. "Why don't you try the ring?"

Harry picked up the ring. It was an obsidian stone set into a thick gold band with decorative engravings in a language he didn't recognize.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry tried the ring on his index finger. It was a bit tight, though, so he moved it over to the next one. That was better, but the middle finger wasn't the most comfortable place for a ring. Harry moved the ring over again, acutely aware of Tom's gaze, heavier than the weight of the locket that Harry now wore, watching his every movement. This time, however, the ring fit.

"It's nice," Harry repeated. He lifted his left hand to eye level and swallowed nervously. Oh. He'd been so distracted by Tom that he hadn't realized where he'd put the ring. Harry went to pull it off, to give the ring back, but then Tom nudged the silver crown in his direction—a clear directive.

With an odd, twisty feeling in his gut, Harry took the crown and placed it atop his head. He felt silly. He wasn't royalty. He wasn't a princess. He had no business wearing a tiara, or whatever this was—

"You look beautiful."

Harry, already warm from exertion and his close proximity to the dragon, felt his face go red. "Um."

Tom looked Harry over from head to toe. "I'd melt the cup down into something else, but I'm rather attached to the insignia. Perhaps I'll find something similar and craft a bracelet for you."

"My master is a blacksmith," Harry blurted out. "He's the best in the village."

Tom cocked his head. "You work for a blacksmith?"

Harry nodded rapidly, hoping to dispel the unusual tension in the air. "He lent me the horse to get here."

"Very kind of him," Tom purred. "I'm sure he'll miss your help very much."

The statement did not inspire as much fear as it should have. "Miss me?" Harry echoed, dazed.

"You'll be staying here with me from now on, of course." Then Tom licked the side of Harry's face and hummed as if Harry was a particularly delicious dessert. "I'm going to keep you. You'll be the best of my collection. My prized little human." The way Tom was speaking, like Harry ought to feel honoured, was highly concerning.

"Er, I did say I wanted to go home," Harry reminded him. It was probably unwise to argue with a dragon, even one that had draped him in its favourite jewellery. "Remember that?"

Tom blinked his large, ruby-red eyes. "I thought you liked all the treasure."

"I mean, I do," Harry said, stumbling over the words, "but this isn't—this isn't a house, Tom. There isn't a kitchen, or a bed, or any chairs."

"I have several thrones you can use."

"Not the same thing," Harry said firmly. "And I happen to like my friends, so I'm afraid—" He paused to gather his nerves. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Respectfully."

Tom frowned, seeming to consider Harry's words. Then he said, "I could build you a home?"

Harry had the sudden mental image of a large nest filled with blankets and various trinkets. "It's kind of you to offer, but it doesn't change my answer."

There was a longer pause. "Will you go back without the princess?" Tom asked, his eyes narrowed.

Harry had to think about that. "I don't know. He doesn't want to go back, but maybe they would take him more seriously if they knew he was willing to run away over it?"

"Hmm. I think you may be right. Why don't we go up and see if we can change his mind about leaving? I'll even help you convince him."

Harry was suspicious of Tom's sudden desire to not only be helpful, but to also willingly engage in conversation with someone he had told Harry to ignore. However, it wasn't as if Harry had a choice. How else would he get back up to the cave?

"Okay," Harry agreed. "Let's go back up."

Tom lowered to the ground, and Harry repeated the process from before to remount him. Harry fared better this time; he remembered where to put his hands and feet, and was able to climb on with ease.

As they flew up, Harry held on tight, marvelling at the smooth feel of Tom's scales. How many could say they'd flown on a dragon and lived to tell the tale? Not many people at all. And Tom's body was so very warm underneath his hands, like the solid version of a roaring fireplace.

With a sharp pang of disappointment, Harry realized he would be sad when the adventure ended.

Tom landed them at the end of the tunnel, and then they were running again, a breeze ruffling Harry's hair as they went. This time, Harry allowed himself a whoop of delight. The noise was echoed by Tom, who rumbled happily and did a little bouncing leap in the confines of the tunnel.

Harry wondered, then, just how high Tom could jump when unhindered by tunnel walls. Maybe Tom could take them back to the kingdom? How amazing would it be to ride back on a dragon? But perhaps it would be rude to ask. After all, Tom hadn't wanted to transport the princess to the next kingdom over.

Far too soon, Harry could make out Princess Snape's solitary figure in the distance. He did not look pleased to see them.

"It smells," Severus said as they came to a skittering halt.

Tom scowled. "Then leave."

The princess was referring to the body, Harry thought as he slid off the dragon's back. Indeed, Lockhart's cooled corpse was resting in a mangled heap on the ground. Harry coughed and shot Tom a pointed look.

Tom sighed. "What I meant to say is that Harry has convinced me to help you. I will deliver you to the nearest kingdom, as you wished."

"What?" Harry said. That was not what they had agreed on.

Severus stared at them both. "Truly? You'll help me?"

"Of course," Tom said, stepping closer. "It would be my pleasure."

Harry should have seen it coming. Tom took another step towards the princess, raising a clawed hand as if to clap him on the shoulder, then delivered a solid flick to Severus' head, knocking him out cold.

The princess crumpled to the ground, gown flaring out like a freshly-bloomed flower.

"Why'd you do that for?" Harry demanded. Without thinking, he swatted at Tom's flank, smacking it.

Tom glanced back over his shoulder. He did not seem bothered by the fact that Harry had tried to hit him. "He would have never agreed to go back on his own. This was the only way."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't give you the right to do that to him!"

Tom huffed. "Must you have so many opinions on everything?" He trotted over and nudged at Harry's chest with his nose. "Is there no room in your heart for a bit of necessary wrongdoing?"

"You burned Lockhart to death for being a liar," Harry felt compelled to point out.

"That was different." Tom's wings extended once more, flapping slightly. The air that they generated rushed at Harry's face.

"How is it any different?" Harry asked, now irritated.

"I don't care about Lockhart," Tom said simply. Cautiously, he lifted his hand towards Harry. When Harry flinched and stepped back, Tom only shook his head and smiled, then lightly caressed Harry's cheek with the smooth side of his clawed finger.

In response to the tender touch, Harry relaxed somewhat, reassured that he would not meet the same fate as the princess. "That doesn't make it okay," he said. "You can't burn everyone to death just because you don't care about them."

"If I promise not to burn anyone else, will you stay with me?"

Back to this again? Harry didn't fully understand what 'this' was, but he wasn't going to stay and find out. "That's not fair," Harry said. "You can't make me choose like that!"

Tom withdrew his hand and pinned Harry with his gaze. "Is it a choice? Either you want to, or you don't."

"You're not going to convince me," Harry said. He jabbed a finger at Tom. "Whether you eat people or not has nothing to do with me."

Tom sighed and took a step back. "Very well, then."

Harry remained wary. "So that's it?" he asked.

"That's all," Tom agreed, and then something most peculiar happened.

Tom... changed. That was the best word that came to mind for what Harry's eyes were seeing. The large green body of the dragon shrunk and shrunk, so quickly that it appeared to be caving in on itself. All the while, the green was fading rapidly, replaced by pale skin. The horns receded and a mop of dark hair took their place.

When all was said and done, there was no more dragon, only a tall, handsome man standing in the dragon's place.

"Tom?" Harry asked in a squeak.

The man, Tom, whoever, strode forward and cupped Harry's face with both hands. His eyes were burning crimson, just like the dragon's.

Before Harry could say anything further, Tom—it could only be Tom, of course; the large, warm hands that gripped Harry's cheeks could belong to no other—dipped his head down and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

Harry squeaked again, but Tom swallowed the sound, humming happily against Harry's half-parted lips. When Tom pulled back, his eyes seemed brighter, less restless and more at peace.

"You're human!" Harry spluttered, hands pressed against the soft cotton fabric of Tom's dark black robes.

Tom said nothing, only kissed Harry a second time, licking and nipping until Harry gave in and let Tom have his way, tongue slipping past Harry's lips to taste and explore.

It did not take very long for Harry to get dizzy. His lungs, however strong, were nothing compared to Tom's. Harry clutched at Tom's robes to hold himself upright and turned his head away so he could gasp for air. Tom nuzzled at his jaw and nibbled a path down the side of his neck.

"Wait," Harry gasped, "wait." What were they doing? They had to go—

"Hmm?" Tom gazed at him through lowered lashes. His majesty as a dragon had translated well to human form. Harry could make out the faint, iridescent pattern of tiny scales across Tom's pale skin. The irregular shape of Tom's pupils and the brilliant colour of his irises also gave away his true nature.

"We can't," Harry said. As he took in his surroundings, he noticed that Tom had backed him up against the cave wall to snog him senseless. "I have to—I have to go home."

Tom touched his forehead to Harry's and laid a palm over Harry's pounding heart. "There is a human saying that I've encountered," Tom said, the first words that Harry heard uttered by this form, "I'd like you to tell me if it's true."

"O-okay," Harry stuttered. He was already so flushed he thought he might die, and Tom's sultry tones were not helping. "What is it?"

"'Home is where the heart is'," Tom quoted softly. Then, when Harry remained silent, he prodded, "Is it true?"

"I—" Harry couldn't think of an answer with Tom so close to him. "I think it must be, yes. Why are you asking?"

"Just checking," Tom breathed, then bent in to kiss him again.

Harry put up a half-hearted struggle but gave up as quickly as he'd started once Tom's hand settled on the nape of his neck, cradling him there.

This time, when his head grew fuzzy and he went to twist his head away, Tom's hand held him in place. When Harry made a soft noise of protest, Tom pulled away and smiled down at him.

"I'll make my home with you," Tom promised.

Before Harry could decipher the meaning of that statement, a sharp pain blossomed on the side of his head, catapulting him straight into the dark, unforgiving land of unconsciousness.