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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.

Chapter Text

Everything was warm. Harry rolled onto his side and buried his face into his pillow, inhaling softly as he stretched his limbs out in the bed. His arms and legs were sore, the level of pain resting just on the side of bearable.

With a groan, Harry rolled onto his back and rubbed at his face. He must have forgotten to close his window last night; it was too hot for it to be anything other than sunlight making his face uncomfortably warm.

"Good morning, precious. Are you awake?"

Harry's entire body shuddered in response to that voice. He sat up too quickly, eyes wide open, and swore several times as his head pounded violently in protest to the abrupt movement. He was imagining things. He was dreaming. It had all been... a dream.

"Did you sleep well?"

Harry stared. He blinked. He deliberately shut his eyes, then opened them back up. No, no, wait—

"Tom?" Harry asked, confused.

Tom, human Tom, came to sit on the bed and took both of Harry's hands in his. "Yes?"

Slowly, things were beginning to make sense. "You knocked me out," Harry accused. "You knocked me out just like you did with the princess!"

"Well..." Tom had the decency to appear contrite, at least. "You wouldn't agree to stay with me. So I did the next best thing."

"You lied to me," Harry continued. "You said you wouldn't hurt me!"

Tom’s brows lowered. "I did not," he protested. "I was gentle." His eyes flashed a mix between red and brown before they settled into a deep burgundy. "I brought you your things," he added. "My things to wear. If you're feeling better."

Harry blew out a frustrated gust of air and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. This was impossible. Tom was impossible. He was—he was a dragon, a dragon that Harry had kissed. "That doesn't make what you did any better."

Tom scratched at the hem of the bedsheets with his human hands. "I am sorry I hit you," he said with seeming reluctance. "I didn't want you to go, so I followed you here instead."

"You should have asked," Harry said. His chest felt tight and hot and uncomfortable. He was upset with himself for letting Tom distract him back at the cave. "You should have asked to come with me. I would have said yes. But you didn't ask and now I'm mad at you."

Tom gazed at Harry with sad, round eyes. Harry looked away, unsure how genuine they were. They were, as far as Harry could tell, back in his bedroom. That meant they were back in the village.

"Where is the princess?" Harry asked. "Where is Sirius? Did you talk to anyone?"

"The princess is back at the castle," Tom said in a careful tone. "Your blacksmith is at his shop. Everyone knows you've returned. They left me here to watch over you."

"And what did you tell them?" Harry pressed.

"I told them that you and I saved the princess from the dragon. I told them that Lockhart died in the process. I gave them his chestplate and sword as proof."

Harry rubbed at his temples. "Great. So you're a single step removed from being Lockhart. Is there anything else I should know?"

Tom frowned at Harry's blunt words. "The royal family wants an audience with us as soon as you're able to make the journey up to the castle."

They were putting that off for as long as possible. "That won't be any time soon," Harry promised. Then he sighed. "Unless you've anything else to tell me, I'd like you to go." When Tom failed to move, Harry added, "Use your gold to buy yourself a place to stay somewhere else."

After a brief pause, Tom rose from the bed. "I'll leave your things here, precious," he said decisively. Harry glanced over and saw that yes, Tom had deposited the crown, the cup, the locket, and the ring on Harry's bedside table. Right now, Harry had neither the heart nor the energy to tell Tom to take them away. He could always give them back to Tom at a later point in time, when his head wasn't throbbing fit to burst.

"Alright," Harry said. He would not wear any of them; they would sit there until Tom came to collect them, or until Harry gathered them up to give them back.

Tom turned to go. Inexplicably, some part of Harry's imagination expected to see a tail drooping sadly behind, only there was no such thing in sight. Tom vanished out the door, leaving Harry alone in the bedroom. 

After a few more seconds, Harry heard the front door open and shut, the impact of it shaking the near wall.

Harry spent the rest of his morning nursing his aches and pains. He took his time getting dressed and washing his face. There was also an absurd amount of gold jewelry sitting on his dresser that had to be Tom's doing. That would have to be returned later as well, Harry thought glumly. It was clear that Tom's worldview centered at least somewhat around treasure—the giving and taking of it.

Harry was halfway through boiling water for tea when Sirius knocked on his door.

"Come in!"

Sirius barrelled inside and enveloped Harry in what was admittedly a very gentle hug considering the fact that Sirius was the one delivering it. "I'm glad you're home safe," Sirius said. "Are you feeling alright? Riddle told us that you hit your head pretty badly."

Harry winced, which of course resulted in Sirius fussing over him. Riddle must have been the surname Tom had taken for his human form. "I'm fine," Harry said, over and over again. "I'm fine."

Sirius made him sit down and poured tea for the both of them. "I brought some food," he said, setting his satchel bag on the table. "You'd best eat up, get your strength back."

Inside of Sirius' bag were some warm bread rolls and fresh fruits from the orchard. While they ate, Sirius asked questions. Some of the questions were easier to answer than others.

How had they found the princess? What did the dragon look like? What had happened to Lockhart? All of this, Harry had answers for, even if he didn't like all of them.

Then came the complications. What was Riddle like? How had they met? Did Harry like him? To which Harry's mind went momentarily, utterly blank for so long that Sirius asked after him in concern.

"Tom is..." Harry began haltingly, knowing that what he was about to say would sound ridiculous, "Tom is the dragon."

To his credit, Sirius did not ask if Harry had hit his head harder than expected. He did not even ask if Harry was sure about what he'd just declared.

Sirius sat back in his chair, frowned for several long, long seconds, then said, "Well, Harry, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Harry let out a wheeze that might have been a truly terrible attempt at a laugh, and then he started to cry.

Sirius shot out of his seat to grab Harry into another hug. "You had a rough time," Sirius said calmly, rubbing Harry's back in a slow circle. "Let it all out."

Harry did. Once it was done, he felt a little better. He wiped at his nose with a handkerchief and rubbed his eyes until they stung. Sirius made him eat some food, and when the food was mostly gone, Harry told Sirius the strange ordeal of his journey up the mountain.

At first, it was easy to speak, to tell the story. Harry recounted reaching the mountain, locating the hoof prints in the dirt, and climbing the mountain. The plot got more difficult after that, what with meeting the princess and the dragon. The dragon named Tom.

Sirius was surprised to hear the princess had run away. More surprised than he was to hear that the dragon had turned Lockhart into roast meat.

"I know it must have been terrifying," Sirius said sympathetically, "but I'd rather him than you, Harry."

Harry couldn't quite disagree and that made him feel guilty. Lockhart was an awful person, but he didn't deserve to die. Harry’s discomfort must have shown on his face, however, because Sirius' eyes roamed over it for several long seconds.

"How about you come with me to the shop?" Sirius asked, standing from his chair. "You should still be resting, but I won't tell anyone." Sirius winked and gave Harry's shoulder a pat. "I'm sure I've got some small tasks lying around that you can do for me. Busy work and all."

"That sounds great," Harry said, relieved that he wouldn't spend the rest of the day trapped alone in his home with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

The journey to the blacksmith's shop was slower than usual. Sirius walked at a snail's pace, likely worried that going too fast would upset Harry's head injury. During story time, Harry had admittedly... left out... some of the details. Mostly the snogging bits. As far as Sirius knew, Tom had knocked out both Harry and the princess without any fanfare.

Still, a meandering walk was a small price to pay for some company. Harry asked Sirius what he'd missed during his time away and was rewarded with a highly entertaining recount of Lucius Malfoy's barely-disguised outrage at having one of his prized palomino horses not only given away to Lockhart, but also entirely lost to the depths of the forest outside of the kingdom.

"Ah," said Sirius, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "I'll never forget the expression on his face. He definitely wanted to throttle me."

Harry cracked a half smile. "Anything for the king and country, though, right?"

"Precisely! He should be grateful that his horse was granted the honour of participating in such a noble rescue mission."

When they arrived at the shop, Sirius took them to check on Padfoot. Harry was relieved to see that the horse was alright.

"Padfoot," Harry greeted, patting the back of the horse's neck. "I missed you. I hope Tom wasn't too rough with you."

Sirius snorted. "Quite the opposite, actually. Padfoot refused to carry anyone else, which meant you were the only one draped over his back for the entire ride home. Your dragon carted the princess along in a wagon, if you can believe it."

"A wagon?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Shoddily-made, too. Must have been murder on the back." Sirius placed a palm against his own lower back to demonstrate. "But yes. Padfoot carried you and pulled the wagon to the front gate, then started braying bloody murder. Half the town must have come out to see what the fuss was."

It said something about Harry's mental state that the first question to come to mind was: Tom made a wagon?

"Anyway, Riddle explained that you both had saved the princess while Lockhart was eaten by the dragon. He also said that he was a wealthy noble from the next kingdom over." Sirius shrugged. "At first, people were cautious of him. He was a stranger, after all. His clothes were fine, all rich fabrics, but the fit was off. It wouldn't be the first time some poor bastard had been robbed by a thief while travelling the trade routes."

"But he convinced you?" Harry asked.

"Riddle had the coin to prove it, more coin than any noble would carry for a simple day trip." Sirius frowned. "And he'd returned everyone home safe, so we didn't see any reason to question him. He even offered to pay for a doctor, but I told him I would handle it."

Harry ran a hand over Padfoot's mane. The repetitive action of stroking his fingers through the horse’s hair was soothing. "And then what?"

"We called the doctor. Riddle said you took a bump to the head, nothing too concerning. He thought that the dragon might have done something to put you to sleep." Sirius grimaced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Harry said tiredly. "I suppose he must have used magic to keep the princess and I asleep for that long."

"Magic." Sirius shook his head. "Bad enough it breathes fire. What does it need magic for?"

Harry had no answer for that. "So the doctor came?"

"Yes. He looked you both over, and by the time he was finished, word had reached the castle of your return. An escort of knights arrived to take the princess home. Everything was very crowded, people were cheering and yelling. I was worried the noise would disturb you, so I carried you aside."

Harry knew that Sirius was strong—muscles built up from years of hard labour—but it was difficult to imagine Sirius hoisting him over one shoulder like a Harry-sized ragdoll.

"Would have been quite the walk," Sirius said lightly, "but Riddle came over and offered to help. So I let him. We carried you home, tucked you in bed, and left you there. I took Riddle to the Prophet's Inn and let him sort his own stay. He said he'd go by to check on you in the morning..." Sirius trailed off, a question burning clearly in his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry said. "He came by. I told him off and kicked him out."

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Well, can't say that happens every day. You're telling me you kicked a dragon out of your house?"

Harry felt his face heat up. "It wasn't impressive or anything." More like shoving a stray puppy out the door, actually.

"Right. You know what I think—" Sirius was cut off by someone knocking loudly on the door outside the stable.

A customer? Harry went to walk toward the exit, but found himself walking into Sirius' arm instead.

"Hold on," Sirius said sternly. "Let me see who it is."

Harry could understand that Sirius was trying to protect him. "Alright."

Sirius gave Padfoot's flank a final pat. "I'll be back with some food for you, too, don't you worry."

Harry smiled. "You spoil him, you know."

"Do not."

"He's spoiled," Harry retorted. "All he does is look at you, then you're giving him food."

"Lies and slander." Sirius held a hand to his heart. "Is this how you treat your dear master? After all the years I put into training you? Why, I ought to—"

The knocking sounded again, even louder than before.

"Hmph," Sirius said. "Someone's in a hurry."

"We'd better go see," Harry said apprehensively. "What if it's Malfoy?"

Sirius gasped. "Are you trying to convince me to let you come along?" He paused. "Because it's working." Sirius winked and gave Harry's shoulder a nudge. "Just stay close, alright? I don't trust some of the townsfolk after what happened with Lockhart."

Harry suppressed a laugh. "I'll be sure to act very impressed when you tell Malfoy off for the second time."

Sirius grinned and puffed his chest up slightly. "I do an excellent job of putting him in his place, don't I?"

Harry scoffed. "Yes, you do. But enough of that, we've delayed—"

The stable door flew open with a loud BANG. Harry's attention snapped over in time to watch a cloaked figure tumble through the opening and sprawl upon the floor.

The person, whoever it was, was holding a sword, but as their hands flew out to brace their fall, the sword went skittering loudly across the stable floor.

"Woah," Sirius said. He fumbled for the dagger he kept holstered to his belt and ran forward, kicking the sword out of the way before he tossed the hood off of the intruder and held the knife to their throat.

Harry let out a strangled noise. "Sirius—"

"Unhand me this instant, you mutt," snapped Princess Severus. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "Sorry, sorry! Sirius, please, lower the dagger—"

Sirius pulled the dagger back, but he did not lower it. "We just got you back and you've run off again?” he said crossly. “We might not have liked Lockhart very much, but he still died, you know."

The princess got to his feet with an impressive amount of dignity for someone who had just face planted in a horse stable. "Your apprentice betrayed me. He was supposed to help me leave the kingdom."

"Betrayed is a bit of a strong word," Harry snapped. "It wasn't like I didn't try to help you!"

The princess sneered. "Don't pretend you didn't benefit from this. What did they offer you? Knighthood? Land and riches?"

"They haven't given me anything! I haven't spoken to any of your family—"

"Princess or not," Sirius said, eyes narrowed, "you're trespassing, and I'm sure you didn't come here just to yell at my apprentice. What do you want?"

Severus scowled. "You owe me. I want you to help sneak me out of the kingdom. No doubt they'll have noticed my absence by now. Soon they'll be after me and I want to be as far away from this place as possible before that happens."

Sirius stared for a moment, and then, with the tip of his dagger, sliced through the bow that was holding the princess' cloak shut. It fell open, revealing the frilly dress underneath.

Lightning quick, Severus lifted a hand and slapped him.

"Well," Sirius said, unfazed, rubbing at his face. "I think we'll need to find you something a bit more practical to wear, first."

"They don't give me anything else!" Severus seethed. He hiked up his gown and aimed a kick at Sirius' shins. Sirius danced nimbly out of the way, laughing.

Harry pinched himself to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep after Tom had left the house. Or maybe he had fallen asleep even before that. Maybe the dragon had also been a dream? A man could hope.

Sirius sobered and tucked his dagger away. "Of course we'll help you. I've a few spare things lying about that might fit you, if you're not picky about the colour." Sirius eyed the princess' pale pink gown and raised a brow.

Harry was having difficulty with the fact that Sirius had just blatantly agreed to commit treason for someone who had done nothing but insult him and make rude demands.

"We are?" Harry asked dubiously. "Er, not that I disagree, but we're going to need a plan if we don't want to get caught."

"You think I can't save a damsel in distress?" Sirius asked. His eyes were so wide that Harry couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "You're not the only hero blacksmith in this town, you know."

"While you dunderheads are standing here arguing," Severus said loudly, "my parents will be ordering for the gates to close and for knights to descend upon the town. They will shut down all the roads and offer a prize for my return. The longer you stand here acting like school children, the worse off we'll be! If you don't wish to be caught, then act like it."

"Bossy," Sirius remarked. "Put your hood back on, princess, and we'll see about redressing you.” To Harry, he said, “Why don't you saddle Padfoot? I hate to run him again so soon, but he's the only horse we have."

"Okay." Harry was wary about leaving Sirius and the princess alone together, but he could hardly protest. It wasn't like he wanted the job of dismantling whatever it was that royal princesses wore. Corsets and the like.

The two men left. Harry took his time saddling Padfoot, wishing he had thought to bring some treats in advance. He also felt bad that Padfoot would be running again so soon.

"Sorry you didn't get to rest very long," Harry said softly, scratching the horse behind the ears. "But it'll be over soon. I hope. Or else we'll end up in the dungeons, I suppose."

Harry didn't know what dungeons looked like, but he could imagine it was similar to a cellar, only less friendly. Would it be dark all the time, like Tom's treasure cave?

The reminder of Tom was like a splash of cold water right across the face. Harry paused his petting of Padfoot. What would Tom do once he realized what was going on?

Harry was once again trying to help the princess escape. Harry was once again going to be putting himself in danger. Tom would not like any of that, Harry was certain. 

Tom wanted them to collect their accolades. He wanted to dress Harry up in fancy jewelery and keep him safe in a cave.

All of that was ridiculous. Everything about this entire situation was ridiculous. If anyone owed the princess, it was not Harry, and it certainly was not Sirius. The one who owed the princess was Tom.

"Harry? Are you finished?"

Harry broke out of his inattentiveness. "Yeah!" he called back. "Be there in a moment!" Should he bring Padfoot to the front of the shop? Maybe Sirius wanted them to sneak through a back alley. That would be the smart thing to do.

He would leave Padfoot in the stable for now. Harry latched the stall shut and made his way out of the stable. Sirius and the princess were waiting for him inside the shop. Harry did a double take when he entered.

The luxurious gown was gone, replaced by grey trousers and a dark black shirt that hung loosely on Severus' thinner frame. The floor, Harry noted, was littered with tattered pieces of fabric, the pink and lace remains of the princess' royal clothing. Both men were faintly red-faced, but Sirius was grinning ear to ear.

"Couldn't figure out how to undo it all," Sirius said cheerfully. "And as our lovely princess so wisely pointed out to us, we shouldn't waste any more time standing around..." Sirius tilted his head back to beam at Severus. "Which meant I had to cut off most of the frilly bits with my knife."

The princess aimed a fresh kick at Sirius' shins. Sirius yelped louder than was really necessary and hopped around like a lunatic while Princess Severus... blushed.

Harry decided he was better off not asking any questions and said, "I left Padfoot in the stable."

Sirius coughed, straightening up. "Yes. Great. We'd best head out now if we want to make it to the gate before they close it off."

"Actually," Harry said, "I had an idea while you both were... gone."

"Oh?"

"I thought we should ask Tom for help. He's the reason you're in this mess, after all," Harry said to Severus.

"I refuse to have anything to do with him," Severus said with a sharp jerk of his head. "He cannot be trusted. Everything he does is out of self-interest. I've no doubt his reasons for staying here in the town are less than innocent."

"Exactly," Harry said reasonably. "If he plans to stay in this town, he has to maintain his cover. If we expose him as a dragon, everyone will turn on him. He won't want that. It'll cause trouble for him if people know what he looks like. I doubt he'd be able to raze the entire kingdom to the ground before the knights killed him."

"Or," Severus said, "he will simply kill the three of us and be done with it. You may be deluded enough to believe he favours you, but he is a dragon. He will never hold you above his own survival instincts."

Harry sighed. "Just let me go talk to him. It won't take long and I promise I can convince him to help."

Sirius looked at Harry for a moment, then nodded. "If you think you can convince him, then I trust you. Go to him. The inn's not far and I have to pack a few more things. We'll meet you there."

"I said I won't work with that blasted creature," Severus said, glaring at Sirius.

"I don't see anyone else here willing to help you," Sirius threw back. "So you'd best take what you can get, princess."

Harry left them to their bickering and ran for the door. No doubt the blacksmith's shop would be one of the first places searched for the princess. There was little time to lose.

The Prophet's Inn was on the other side of the main street, further down and therefore closer to the front gates, which was where most travelers would arrive.

It was unlikely that they would make it to the western or eastern gates before they were caught. Their main advantage, at the moment, was that they had the element of surprise. If they could make it to the south gate before word reached the guards, they would have the best odds of a successful escape.

With this in mind, Harry barged into the Prophet's Inn and asked a flustered Madam Rosmerta if he could speak to Tom Riddle.

She seemed shocked to see him out and about. By the time Harry had brushed off her concerns for his state of health and excessive admiration for his 'grand achievement', loud footsteps could be heard stumbling down the stairs.

Lo and behold, Harry looked up to see Tom rushing into the entryway.

Tom ran forward and gathered Harry into his arms, lifting him off the floor and spinning him around and around. Harry choked out a protest and was mollified when Tom set him back down on the ground.

"You came back," Tom purred, sounding smug. Behind him, Rosmerta was staring at them. "I knew you would, Harry. I told you I was sorry." He frowned, then touched Harry's collarbone. "Did you not bring my jewelry?"

"That's not why I'm here," Harry said. "I'm here because..." It did not feel right to say that he needed Tom's help. "Because you need to fix the problem you caused." That was better. "Let's go outside," he added, "so I can explain."

Tom's joyful demeanour faded slightly, but he followed Harry out the door and into the side alley. "Is it your head?" Tom asked. "I can brew a healing potion for you. I'll need to locate the right ingredients—"

"Not me," Harry said. He glanced about to make sure there was no one nearby, then lowered his voice and added, "I'm talking about the princess! He ran away again. He showed up at the blacksmith's shop demanding we help smuggle him out.” He frowned. “It is your fault for bringing him back here against his will, which means you need to help him."

Tom scowled. "He's a princess. What help does he need? He isn't in any danger here."

"He's miserable here," Harry said. "Isn't that enough? I was fine with you not wanting to fly him over the ocean, but bringing him back here is unfair and you know it."

"What was unfair," Tom said scathingly, "was his refusal to leave my home when I asked him to."

Harry could admit Tom had a point. "That is true," Harry said. "But two wrongs don't make a right, either." Time for a new tactic. "Sirius and I have already agreed to help. If you don't help us and we fail, we'll be thrown into the dungeons."

"Then I'll rescue you from the dungeons," Tom said easily.

"Then I'd be mad at you," Harry retorted, folding his arms over his chest. "More mad at you than I am right now. You followed me here because you want to stay here. Because you want to live in the town with me."

"Of course," Tom said. He reached for Harry's hands. Harry let it happen, let Tom twist their fingers together. "I want to keep you."

"Then know that I'm going to do this with or without your help," Harry said pointedly, "and if we do make it out of the castle with the princess, there's a good chance that we won't be coming back because they'll be looking for us."

"But what about your friends?" Tom demanded. "Aren't they why you wanted to stay?"

"I do want to stay," Harry said. He gave Tom's hands a squeeze. "That's why I'm asking you to help. If you fly the princess out of the kingdom, then we can all stay. Everyone will see the giant dragon in the sky and know what happened. They won't think to blame me or Sirius for it. You'll be able to get away much faster than we could on foot or by horse."

Tom's lips flattened out. Harry looked around again to see if Sirius had arrived yet. Unfortunately, they hadn't thought to pick a meeting point. Harry didn't know when or where Sirius and Severus would turn up.

"Just say yes," Harry pleaded, turning back to Tom. "For me?"

Tom narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. "If I say yes, will you be mad anymore?"

"If you say yes, I will be less mad at you," Harry promised. "I'll be happy that you decided to do something good."

After a brief pause, Tom jerked his head in a stiff nod. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and tipped his forehead against Tom's shoulder. Tom dropped his nose to Harry's head, nuzzling there until Harry pulled away.

"Alright," Harry said, trying to think of what to do next. "I don't suppose you can smell or hear where Sirius and the princess are?"

"I can."

Harry shot Tom an expectant look. "Lead the way?"

They left the alley to see two cloaked men making their way towards the inn, clearly arguing with each other. Harry groaned and dragged Tom towards them.

"How is this conspicuous?" Harry demanded. "You're both dressed the same!"

"It's less suspicious than one person dressed strangely," Sirius said, sounding offended. "Looking for a single person is not the same as looking for a pair."

Harry was exasperated. "Tom's agreed to help. He'll fly you out of the kingdom and to safety. I'm going to assume you brought money with you?"

"Use your head," Severus spat. "Why would they'd let me anywhere near anything of value after what I did? I left everything I brought with me at that blasted cave."

"Then you'll go to fetch it," Harry said, ignoring the princess' rude tone. "Now we need somewhere for Tom to change without being seen."

That would be difficult. The common areas of the town were densely packed, and they could not afford to wait until nightfall to let Tom out on the street.

"The stable?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. "Larger than a horse."

"Standing on the street is the worst place to discuss this," Severus said. "I can't believe I'm placing my future in the hands of idiots like you."

"I'll have you know my hands are very capable," Sirius retorted. "I got all of your clothes off, didn't I?"

Tom snickered as the princess flushed scarlet. Whether the redness was from outrage or something else, Harry couldn't say. 

"We'll go back to mine," Harry said. "They won't check there first, seeing as I'm supposed to be on bedrest and all."

The short walk back to Harry's place was quiet and mildly uncomfortable, but it gave him ample time to reflect on his current predicament.

Mostly, he couldn't help but notice how absurd they all looked together. Two older men wearing black cloaks, a taller man in nobleman's clothes, and Harry, who was wearing the clothes he usually wore for work, meaning they were worn and sooty in multiple places.

When they entered Harry's little living space, the princess glanced around with a pinched expression on his face.

"You all live in places as small as this, no wonder you don't have room for a dragon."

"Not all of us were weaned on silver," Sirius said with a scoff. "If you had bothered to wait until Harry and Riddle made their trip up to the castle, this could have been done then."

Severus retorted with something equally biting, but Harry was no longer listening because gears were turning in his head. Yes, he and Sirius were not wealthy enough to have a lavish yard, but there was certainly someone they knew who did.

Tom came over and draped his fancy locket back over Harry's head. "There," Tom said, smiling. He gave the locket a pat.

Harry was momentarily bewildered by the sudden weight around his neck. "How did you—?" He hadn't even noticed Tom leaving his side. "Nevermind," he decided, shaking his head and turning away.

"I have an idea," Harry said loudly, interrupting the, dare he say, lover's spat between Sirius and Severus. If the two of them got any closer together, their faces would be touching.

"We visit the Malfoys," Harry said when both men turned to face him. 

Sirius clapped his hands together, argument with the princess forgotten. "Excellent idea, Harry. This is why you're my favourite person in the whole world."

From behind Harry's shoulder, Tom grabbed Harry's left hand and slid the ring back on. "Yes," Harry said, distracted by the metal—which was somehow warm despite having sat around, untouched, all morning—against his skin, "so we sneak Tom and the princess into their garden and use the space for Tom to change forms."

"I can pick any of their locks," Sirius said, nodding. "We'll head out now, unless the princess here has any further complaints?"

"No," Severus said in a flat voice, when it became apparent that Sirius was not going to move an inch otherwise.

"Great," Harry said quickly, then ducked as Tom tried to place the tiara on his head. "Let's go!"

Sirius snorted at him on the way out. "Very pretty, Harry."

"Shut up," Harry said. "At least we're not wearing matching cloaks."

Sirius shut up.

The journey to Malfoy Manor was just as conspicuous as the journey to Harry's house. Harry jumped at every small noise and squinted every distant figure he saw, praying quietly in his head to any deity that would listen to please, please, please, not let them be spotted by anyone who had ill-intentions.

All the while, Tom trailed close behind. So close, in fact, that whenever Harry paused or faltered momentarily, they knocked into each other.

Unfortunately for Harry, the human form Tom had taken on was not quite as human as it should have been—Tom was entirely too warm to be normal, and on top of that, he was very... solid. Harry had to stop himself from being bowled over more than once, an effort made worse each time Tom tried to help steady him.

Somehow, all of that was still preferable to the strange happenings between Sirius and the princess. Despite the ostensible veil of urgency and secrecy that lay over their group, the two men would not stop snapping at each other.

So Harry did his very best to ignore absolutely everyone else and kept a close eye on their surroundings. When the manor came into view, Sirius paused his diatribe about the finer points of palace life to direct them towards the garden's rear entrance.

"As if I'd ever want to visit this place willingly." Sirius examined the gate, then frowned. "This isn't the lock I installed. Malfoy must have gotten a new one put in." He rubbed at the back of his neck and grimaced. "Granted, it has been almost a decade since, but I'll take offense all the same."

"So you can't pick it?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I can," Sirius said. "It'll just take longer than I expected, that's all—"

"Wonderful. I do hope the lock to your prison cell is easier than this one," Severus drawled.

"Oh, shove off!" Sirius said, straightening up and waving a threatening finger in Severus' direction. "As if you've ever gotten a callus in your life! I'm surprised you can even expose those dainty hands to the village air without fainting."

Harry was then treated to the curious sight of the princess' nostrils flaring in irritation.

"And I am surprised you can focus long enough to heat a blade, let alone forge one, blacksmith."

Meanwhile, Tom had abandoned Harry's side to examine the gate. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the words died when Tom opened his mouth and blasted the lock with a thin stream of concentrated blue flames.

Sirius shrieked—Harry didn't blame him, standing that close to flames that hot couldn't have been comfortable—and floundered in the opposite direction. That said direction was also Severus' direction was merely an unlucky happenstance, Harry thought wryly as Sirius awkwardly braced himself against the princess' chest for balance.

"You nearly set me on fire!" Sirius accused, pointing.

"You are a blacksmith," Severus said, but he sounded vaguely flustered as he shoved Sirius away from him. "Aren't you used to being near fire?"

"Regular fire! Not fire that melts metal locks and gates!"

Indeed, the lock was no longer a lock. It was a puddle of rapidly-cooling melted steel on the gravel path. The garden gate had not fared much better—Harry doubted it would ever be functional again.

Tom shoved at the gate until it gave way and clattered to the ground with a loud noise that made everyone else wince.

"Brilliant," Harry said. So much for going unnoticed. He reached out, grabbed Tom by the hand, and dragged him into the garden. Time to hurry things up. "Dragon time, Tom."

"What the hell was that?" Severus demanded, following close behind. "Do you want us to get caught?"

"You can swear?" Sirius asked rhetorically, but he sobered when Harry glared at him.

"Change," Harry said. He gave Tom's shoulder a push. "You've got to get the princess out of here."

Tom's gaze was entirely too innocent to be truthful. "But what about you?"

"This is not about me."

Tom frowned. "You'll be safer if you come with me," he said.

"And you promised to help," Harry pointed out. "If you leave now, then no one needs to get caught. Now change."

Tom sighed and pouted, then took a step back and did as he was told. As Tom changed, his clothes seemed to vanish, melting into scaly green dragon skin as Tom grew and grew, his human form re-expanding into its usual large size.

Within seconds, Tom was once again twice the size of a horse and several thousand times more dangerous.

"Get on," Harry told the princess.

Severus cast a wary look at Tom, whose tail thumped up and down on the grass before he dropped his haunches and sat down.

"Need a hand?" Sirius asked lightly.

"Not from you, mutt."

The princess marched right up to Tom and attempted to climb on. It was a minor, mildly entertaining struggle that was interrupted by commotion (loud shrieking) coming from the direction of the manor.

Harry was glad that, at heart, Malfoys were self-preserving cowards who would spot from afar the giant dragon nesting in their garden and not come out to investigate.

"You should leave," Tom said to Harry. "I will come back after." He touched a clawed hand to the locket that hung from Harry's neck.

Harry knew he ought to leave, but he didn't trust Tom to keep his word. "You'll take the princess to safety," Harry said firmly.

Tom nodded.

There wasn't much else Harry could do unless he went with them, which was what Tom wanted. Harry sighed and looked at Sirius, who had been watching the exchange with a strange expression on his face.

"I'll go with them," Sirius said.

"What?" Harry asked, baffled.

"What?" said Severus.

"Go on," Sirius urged. "Get out of here. I'll make sure your dragon keeps his promise."

"Sirius—"

"I can carry three," Tom said, sounding hopeful.

"I don't need a minder," Severus snapped. "I'm fine on my own!"

"You didn't even last a day out in the forest before you were conked on the head by a dragon," Sirius said as he clambered onto Tom's back and settled down behind the princess.

Severus scooted away from Sirius, which was to say he managed a few centimetres before he reached the point where he would be smacked in the face by a wing.

"I am not going with you," Harry said to Tom.

"Then leave," Sirius said. "We'll come back soon enough. Get out of here!"

Though Harry didn't like it, Sirius was right. With little choice left, Harry fought down every instinct he had, turned around, and ran.

Harry tore through the streets, not daring to look back. It was only once he'd hit the main road that he paused to catch his breath and look to the sky. There was a distant speck of green, half-covered by a large cloud, that had to be Tom.

Relieved, Harry slowed his steps and returned to the blacksmith's shop. Padfoot was waiting at the stable, saddled up for a journey that would no longer happen. Harry took the saddle and stirrups off, then gave the horse some hay and a good rub down before he wandered back into the shop.

How long would Sirius be gone? How long did it take to fly over to the next kingdom? Harry had no idea. He'd never visited another kingdom before and so he could not even compare the journey to the length of a horse or wagon ride.

Harry sat down in the empty workshop. And who would mind the shop? 

That, however, was a question he suspected he knew the answer to. While Sirius was gone, Harry would mind the shop.

The idea made him vaguely uncomfortable. This was Sirius' shop, not his, but it also wouldn't do to let the place languish. Sirius took pride in this place, he wanted to be known as the best smithy in the kingdom.

That reminded Harry of something else—namely, his supposed appointment with the royal family, and wasn't that a laugh? There would be no such meeting now, unless it was to send Harry after the dragon a second time.

Someone burst through the door with a loud crash, violently dragging Harry away from his thoughts.

"Harry! Harry! Did you see the dragon? Please tell me you saw the dragon," Ron said in a rush. "It was enormous! I've never seen a dragon before. Blimey, you must have been terrified seeing it up close—"

Harry stumbled his way through the ensuing conversation, a conversation that only ended when Ron took stock of the empty shop and asked, "Where's Sirius?"

"He... he..." Harry couldn't explain.

It wasn't that he didn't want to, or that he didn't trust Ron to keep the secret—it was more that the entire situation was so absurd and dangerous that Harry couldn't bring himself to burden his friend with it. If he told Ron, then Ron would be complicit. It was better to leave it alone.

"He and Tom left for the dragon's cave," Harry lied. "They went back for the treasure."

Ron paled. "Christ, Harry, when did they leave? Is it too soon to go after them? I'll go with you! Riddle said the dragon was hurt after you were both through with it, so it shouldn't be too dangerous—"

Harry shook his head wildly. "We're not going after them! They'll make it back, don't worry. Sirius knows what he's doing." Or so Harry hoped.

Ron halted his animated movements. "Are you sure?" Then he seemed to take a moment to think, and his face grew worried. "I mean, I know you got hurt, Harry. It makes sense if you don't want to go. How's your head, by the way?" Ron narrowed his eyes. "And what're you doing here at the shop? Sirius wouldn't want you working when you ought to be resting."

The topic switch was so sudden that Harry had a hard time following it, which meant his response was delayed. "Sirius told me I could mind the shop while he was gone."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, you won't know the truth until he gets back, will you?" Harry said lightly.

Upon being reminded of Sirius' absence, Ron's face fell gloomy again. "You really think they'll be alright out there? They must have saw the dragon and started heading straight back, you think?"

"Er," Harry said, then tried to think of a plausible reason for a delay. "They might decide it's safer to hide out. The dragon probably... probably wouldn't be very happy to see them. Especially... Tom." The logistics of this were enough to make anyone's head hurt, Harry thought glumly.

"Maybe," Ron agreed, much to Harry's relief. "Well, let's hope they come back soon. And you try not to worry too much," he added, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction. "Mum says it's bad for the healing."

Harry choked out a laugh and tried to pass it off as a cough while Ron stared at him. "I'll try my best," Harry said once he managed to sober up enough to give a decent response.

"Good. You do that." Ron patted him on the back. "I should get back to the bakery now. You let me know if you need anything or else I'll come break down your door."

Ron breaking down his door couldn't possibly compare to Tom melting down an entire garden gate. "I promise," Harry said fervently. "I'll ask if I need help."

Ron narrowed his eyes even further, likely thrown by Harry's sudden agreement. "Alright. See you later. Don't work too hard, and if Malfoy comes knocking, tell him you're closed."

It took every ounce of willpower that Harry possessed not to laugh aloud. "I think Malfoy is the least of my problems right now, but thank you."

Ron left. Harry spent the rest of the day tidying up the shop. Sirius was brilliant at what he did, but he had the organizational skills of a toddler. His only saving grace was that he had an excellent memory and therefore could recall exactly where everything was.

Harry sorted through as much as he could and left the rest for tomorrow. He had promised Ron not to overwork himself, after all. Once Harry was done with tidying, he would clean everything off. Things tended to get filthy in a blacksmith's shop, but that was no excuse to let it build up forever.

On his way home, Harry ran into Neville, who told him about the spectacle of the dragon snatching the princess away from the gardens of Malfoy Manor. No one knew why or how the princess had gotten there, but Neville claimed that the gate had been torn to pieces by the dragon in a fit of rage.

Harry was glad to know that neither his nor Sirius' presence had been noted. He could imagine the chaos that his own imprisonment would unleash if Tom came back to find Harry's room empty.

At home, Harry ate the rest of the food Sirius had brought over for him earlier that morning. He washed his dishes and then, after some deliberation, washed his hair as well. He would bathe tomorrow, perhaps, once he was less exhausted.

By that point, Harry was keenly aware of what he was doing. He was finding useless tasks to do, anything at all to distract himself from everything that had gone on today. The past two days—the two days that he could remember, at any rate—had utterly upended his normal, peaceful life.

He had gone from being the blacksmith's apprentice to being romantically pursued by a murderous dragon while also being lauded as a hero of the kingdom.

Harry had little doubt that if he tried to turn in at this early hour, despite the weariness that tugged at his bones, he would be unable to fall asleep. His mind was restless, plagued with worry for Sirius and caught up in the memories of his time spent with Tom. And the longer it took for Sirius and Tom to return, the worse this issue would get.

Still, he would do no one any good if he ran himself ragged. Harry forced himself to get ready for bed. He removed all of Tom's jewelery, setting each piece aside before he changed into his pyjamas and collapsed on his bed. The bedsheets smelled very faintly of smoke. Harry sighed, burying his face into his pillow. He had the feeling it was going to be a very long wait.

After an unknowable length of time, Harry drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of flying without wings, of soaring through the skies with the wind in his hair. It was a beautiful dream, a golden high that burst like a soap bubble when Harry woke the next morning. He felt strangely lonesome even though he'd spent his entire life sleeping by himself.

As Harry got up and got ready for the day, he told himself it was the dream of flying that he missed, but the truth was flying would only ever remind him of one person, and that person was Tom.

Harry went back to work at the shop. Partway through his morning, Harry was visited by a royal messenger. The royal family still wished to meet him. Harry declined for the time being, stating he would prefer to wait until Tom and Sirius returned. He had the inkling that if he agreed to a meeting, Severus’ parents would send him off searching for the princess.

The messenger promised to pass his decision along. Harry figured he would receive a firm request for his presence the next day, but no such summons arrived, much to his surprise.

For many days, Harry’s life was peaceful and boring—no dragons flew overhead, no godfathers returned, and no handsome rogues came knocking on his door. He left Tom’s treasures in a locked drawer. He continued to tidy the shop and took minor requests, enough to keep himself and Padfoot afloat as they waited for Sirius to return. 

Most of all, Harry kept a watchful eye on the skies above. All this worrying was enough to drive anyone mad. Every unexpected creak or rustle at the shop made him uneasy, though he was unsure why. What did he expect? What was he so afraid of? Royal knights come to drag him off to the dungeons? Tom returned at last, eager to resume what Harry could only assume was, at least in Tom’s mind, their courtship?

It did not help that his troubles outside of Tom were far from over. Many people were beginning to believe that Sirius and Tom had been kidnapped or killed. With no choice, Harry spun a new, extravagant tale on how both men must have witnessed the princess’ kidnapping and gone to rescue him. 

This idea was very popular, which Harry had mixed feelings about. He had never been a particularly good liar, and the village was full of judgemental people, Harry’s relatives included. Harry would hate himself if he ruined Sirius’ reputation with an idiotic mistake.

Therefore, when Tom showed up at his doorstep a few weeks later, utterly alone, Harry’s immediate demand was—

“Where the hell is Sirius?”

This statement was accompanied by a large sword pointed in Tom’s direction. It was, after all, easier to be mad than understanding, easier to push someone away than let them in.

“They will return once their negotiations are through,” Tom said. He swayed slightly in a way that suggested, were he in his dragon form, his wings would be fluttering. “I will fetch them myself. Your blacksmith asked me to deliver this letter so you would not worry.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “Will you be going back?”

“Yes.” The shine of Tom’s red eyes dimmed slightly. “I will fetch them when they are finished negotiating.”

“But you can’t stay here,” Harry said. Then, because he had the sense to realize how Tom would interpret that statement—in a hurtful way—he added, “I told everyone that you and Sirius were off searching for the princess.”

Tom laid a large, warm hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Then tell them I came back. The princess has been found.”

Harry was not fooled. “How will I explain how quickly you travelled? Or how quick it will be when they come back?”

“People do not devote much thought to matters that do not concern them.”

Harry sighed. Truthfully, he was not prepared to deal with all the trouble that Tom represented.

Tom seemed to read Harry’s sigh as a sigh of resignation—he quickly folded Harry into an intimate embrace. Tom pressed Harry’s back to his chest, wrapped his arms snugly around Harry’s waist, and tucked his chin over the top of Harry’s head. 

“Are you pleased? I kept your blacksmith safe as you asked.”

“I am… pleased,” Harry said hesitantly. He would be lying if he claimed otherwise.

Tom nipped at the shell of his ear. “When all this is settled,” he began, “I will build us a new home.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “A nest?” 

“Anything you wish,” Tom said easily. His arms constricted further, squeezing Harry’s ribs. “You may have all the treasures you like,” he added.

“Not a nest,” Harry said. “And I don't need any treasure. And I haven't agreed to moving in.”

“But where else will you go?”

“I already have a house?” Harry didn’t know why he had to phrase that as a question.

Tom inhaled rather loudly from behind Harry’s head. “It is too small.”

Harry supposed that, to a dragon, his living space was tiny. “Won’t you get tired of living in a house?” he asked. “Don’t you prefer being a dragon?”

“I’ve never tried living in a human village before,” Tom said thoughtfully. “It could prove to be amusing for at least a decade or so.”

Harry frowned. “So when you get bored of it, you’ll leave?”

“I wouldn’t leave you, silly precious.” Tom nuzzled Harry’s hair. “I’d move us somewhere else.”

Harry had never bothered with romance before. He was content with his life and his work. To involve himself with a dragon was unconventional, to say the least. Harry was interested, attracted, and frankly a little terrified—not of Tom, but of what he represented: commitment to someone out of the norm after spending nearly a lifetime trying to fit in.

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said. His life had taken a strange turn because of Tom, but it was not an unwanted one. In many ways, just being with Tom felt like flying. Harry wanted to hold onto that feeling and see where it led him.

“Good,” Tom said. He lowered his head and kissed Harry's cheek. His breath was warm and made Harry’s skin prickle pleasantly.

Harry squirmed his way out of Tom's embrace before they could get carried away. There was one more thing he wanted to address.

"Why do you want to live with me?" he asked. "Why do you like me so much?"

Tom huffed. It was a disgruntled noise that passed over the top of Harry’s head like a grumpy storm cloud. “You’re interesting,” Tom said. “Other humans have attempted to slay me and steal my treasures. They desire glory and gold.  But you don’t care for either of those.” He reached for Harry’s elbow and drew him close again. “And you smell very nice.” Tom inhaled, pressing his nose against the side of Harry’s head. “If I did not like you as much as I do, I would have eaten you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Harry said distantly. “So you like me because…” It felt stupid to say it out loud. “Because I’m not like other humans you’ve met?”

“I do not like other humans,” Tom said. “I only like you.”

Harry frowned. “You don’t like humans?”

“My mother named me after my father,” Tom said with a sniff. “He was a human, too.” His grip on Harry’s waist tightened momentarily. “Dragons are known for their grand, magnificent names, and she named me Tom.”  Tom’s voice was threaded with tension. It was clear he did not think highly of his mother’s decision. 

“But I have embraced my name. I am cleverer than other dragons. Faster, stronger. I am the best of them all.” Tom rotated Harry in place so he could lay his palm over Harry’s cheek. “I have the most impressive cave and the most treasures. Kingdoms fear me. Kings fear me. So if you choose me, I will keep you safe and treasure you. You will never have a reason to leave me.”

Harry placed his hand over Tom’s chest. It sounded to him like Tom was also an outcast. An outcast amongst his own kind. Although dragons were the solitary type, Harry could understand why having a human name and human heritage would have made Tom feel different. Like a freak.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Okay, you can stay here in the house. But you can’t let anyone else see you or we’ll be in trouble.”

Tom smiled. “I knew you would understand,” he said solemnly. His other hand rose to cup the other side of Harry’s face, and then he dipped his head for a kiss.

Harry felt his entire face warm all over, both from the kiss and from Tom’s proximity. It was a perfect kiss, short and sweet, and as Tom pulled away to nuzzle at his neck, Harry felt compelled to say, “You’re really warm.”

“Dragons run warmer than humans,” Tom murmured from where he was attempting to suck a mark onto Harry’s throat.

Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s shoulders. Tom seemed to take this as an invitation to sweep Harry up and into his arms. A rush of magic shut the door behind them as Tom carried him further into the house and set him down on the tiny, rickety dining table.

“Wait,” Harry gasped as Tom resumed their enthusiastic necking. “Wait—”

“I missed you,” Tom said breathlessly, lifting his head to regard Harry with his dark, dark eyes. “I want to take you flying again.”

Harry wanted to go flying again. He had dreamt of flying almost every night since he had met Tom. He missed the cold, rustling winds and the feeling of freedom when his feet dangled high above the ground.

“I want to go flying with you,” Harry said, smiling.

Tom smiled back, a wide flash of white, slightly-pointed teeth. Then he swooped in to capture Harry’s mouth in another searing kiss. Those same pointed teeth caught lightly on Harry’s bottom lip as Tom settled between Harry’s thighs, his large hands palming up and down Harry’s back.

Harry felt feverish. The blacksmith’s shop was generally hot and humid, but Tom standing so close to him, pressed against him, was a different overwhelming sensation.

“While I was across the ocean,” Tom rumbled as he trailed his fingers down Harry’s spine, “I sought more treasures for you.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, his voice rather faint to his own ears.

“Yes. I realized there were not enough emeralds in my collection.” Tom nipped at Harry’s earlobe. “Jewels for my jewel.”

Harry’s face was already flushed, but Tom’s term of endearment sent a new rush of blood into his cheeks. “I don’t need jewels.”

Tom laid a few light kisses on the side of his face. “Mmm. But I need to give them to you. It would please me greatly, precious. To see you draped in my jewels.” His hand slid to Harry’s front, palming across the pectoral muscles. “I see you still have my locket.”

Harry glanced down. It was hidden under his shirt most of the time, but of course Tom had looked for it straight away. The rest of Tom’s things—the cup, the ring, and the diadem—were safely tucked in a drawer in his room.

“Proof you are mine,” Tom said, sounding pleased. He rewarded Harry with another kiss. “We’ll go flying soon,” he promised. His hands cradled Harry’s hips, tugging his arse to the edge of the table. “Once we are settled in the castle.”

“Okay,” Harry said, his legs latching around Tom’s waist to hold himself steady. Then the words clicked into place. “What do you mean, settled in the castle?”

Tom’s eyes brightened. It looked like sparks of magic were dancing around in them. “The princess no longer wishes to be a princess. He plans to abdicate his position in exchange for returning to the kingdom.”

This still did not make sense. “Who is he abdicating to?”

Tom lowered his face back to Harry’s neck and resumed his licking and nibbling. “To you, silly. And me, of course. As your consort.”

“W-wait,” Harry stuttered. “I’m not—”

Tom’s hands seized him by the arse and hoisted him into the air. Harry yelped and clung desperately to Tom’s shoulders as Tom swung them about and headed for the bedroom.

“I’m not a princess,” Harry protested. “I’m not royalty. I’m not even educated!”

Tom kissed the tip of his nose. “They have tutors for that, precious.”

The king and queen would never allow a commoner to take over the kingdom. “I thought Severus was going to come back to be the princess and study potions?” Harry asked desperately as Tom carried him through the house.

“He will return and teach you how to be a princess,” Tom amended.

“That’s even worse,” Harry complained. “Tom, I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be a blacksmith.”

Tom paused just outside the bedroom and set Harry down upon the floor. “I thought you would be happy,” Tom said, brows furrowing. “Don’t you want to be royalty?”

“No,” Harry said. “I like just being me.”

“As a princess, you could do anything you wanted. You could have fine meals every day and make servants to do all your chores.”

“I don’t care about that.” Harry sighed. “I don’t need fancy food or servants to be happy. Besides, I’m too young to inherit the throne. No one will take me seriously.”

“I would make them,” Tom promised, his eyes narrowing. “I would devour anyone who dared suggest you were unfit for rule.”

This was too much to take in at once. “Let’s go into my room,” Harry said. “And not talk about this in the hallway.” He could not think straight with Tom’s hands hugging his arse.

Harry led Tom into the bedroom. They laid down on the creaky straw bed together, with Tom flat on his back and Harry half on top of him. Tom seemed mollified by the physical contact. He laid a gentle hand on the back of Harry’s neck and made a sound that was… not quite a rumble but not quite a purr, either.

“I just want everything to stay the same,” Harry said quietly. Except… no, that was not quite true either. “I mean, I want the rest of everything to stay the same. I want to keep working at the shop with Sirius. I want us to go flying and have fun.” Being a princess was too much responsibility. It was too daunting to consider.

“I like my life the way it is,” Harry added firmly, “and I want you in it. But I don’t want to be a princess.” He felt like he was repeating himself at this point, so he shut up and waited to see what Tom would say.

“You would make a lovely princess,” Tom said, his lips curled faintly with displeasure. “You wouldn’t have to worry about a dragon coming to steal you because I would protect you. And if you became a princess, someday you would become queen. And I would be your dragon king.”

Harry could not picture himself as a queen. He could, however, picture Tom as a king. Tom had the majestic air of royalty about him. He was handsome and powerful. He was a man who could lead an army into war.

“They would never accept a dragon as a true ruler,” Tom continued. “But they may accept a brave knight instead.”

“I’m no knight,” Harry muttered, pressing his face into Tom’s chest.

“But you could be,” Tom said in an affectionate tone. He rubbed slow circles over Harry’s shoulder. “You will be. They had planned to make you one before the princess ran away again.” He kissed Harry’s forehead, infusing warmth there. “Your blacksmith considers you a son. If he and the princess marry, then you will be in line for the throne.”

Harry hadn’t even considered that. “Sirius isn’t going to get married,” he said doubtfully. Even if Sirius liked the princess, he would never settle with marriage. Would he?

“He will if it secures you a future.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t want him to do that for me.”

Tom hummed. “It is hardly a chore on his part, I can assure you. He and the princess are quite taken with each other.” 

Harry understood that even less. But if what Tom was saying was true, then he didn’t have much of a choice. After everything Sirius had done for him, living in a castle as a princess was the least he could do in return. Harry had no idea what running a kingdom entailed, but so long as he wasn’t forced to do it alone, he thought he could give it a try. If he was terrible at it, then they would just have to find someone else. Severus could look after the kingdom temporarily while they looked for someone else.

“If they make me into a princess,” Harry said hesitantly, “you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Tom promised. His voice was low and soothing. Harry felt better upon hearing it. “I said I would keep you as mine. I take very good care of my treasures.”

Maybe it could work out. They would take care of the kingdom together and occasionally they would go flying. Sirius would get to be the royal blacksmith and Tom could have all the treasure he wanted.

“Will you mind?” Harry asked. “Staying human for so long.” He had no idea how long dragons lived, or how long half-human dragons lived, but it seemed like a large commitment for Tom, who as far as Harry knew had always stayed in dragon form.

“I would do anything for you, precious,” Tom murmured, and the words were so sweet that Harry’s heart warmed right up. When Tom held him, Harry did feel like a precious treasure.

“Okay,” Harry said. If he had Sirius and Tom to help him, then he could do it. “Then I guess it’s alright.”

“Good,” Tom purred, his ruby red eyes aglow like a blazing sunset, and for a moment, Harry wished Tom was in his proper form, his dragon one. Tom’s human form was nice, but a part of Harry had very much enjoyed being surrounded by Tom’s enormous reptilian form, wings and tail and all. 

As if spurred by Harry’s thoughts, Tom rolled them over, crushing Harry against the bed. 

“Now that your human affairs are settled,” Tom said patiently—the most patient that Harry had ever heard him—as he took Harry’s wrists and pinned them above the bed, “there are more important matters I’d like to attend to.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. His heartbeat felt like it was pounding in his ears.

Tom pupils darkened and fattened out, his hot breaths emerging in soft, slow pants as he reached for the laces on the front of Harry’s shirt.

“We have plenty of time before the negotiations conclude,” Tom continued as he tugged at the stubborn knot. “I suspect it may take them days. A fortnight, even.”

“That is a long time,” Harry agreed. 

“This would be simpler if I could use my claws,” Tom muttered as he poked at the knot with his very human finger.

Harry would have snickered at Tom's dismay if not for the vibrant image that his words had inspired. Namely, the image of Harry’s clothes being torn off by an enormous dragon.

“Next time,” Harry said distractedly. He lowered his hands long enough to shed his shirt and undo his belt, then returned them to where Tom had left them next to the wall.

Tom paused, his hands curled around Harry’s bare waist. “Next time?”

Harry bit his lower lip. “Yes,” he said, “next time.”

Tom grinned, eyes bright and wild with unfettered elation, and although Tom had said that Harry wasn’t going to be eaten, Harry had the funny feeling he would be devoured by Tom all the same.

END.