Day Off
Dumbledore looks mildly grumpy and almost forlorn when he meets me just after breakfast in the morning with Moody and his walking stick on his heels. Moody, unlike Dumbledore, looks set to travel into muggle-inhabited territory.
“The school governors refuse to set this meeting aside,” he explains, eyes sparking angry and upset and I nod; of course they would with all this madness peaking. I wouldn’t be leaving either if not for fate offering up such a worthy cause as de-cursing
“I’ll teach you the counter when I get back,” I offer quietly and his nod is a genuine, but still unhappy, thanks.
I turn back to Moody to see the crowd has multiplied and lift an eyebrow at Tonk’s chipper smirk, Lupin’s lazy smile as he leans against Tonks (in a mostly respectable way) and Snape (pretending to be bored) all there too. And they’re all dressed for the city.
“….Okay? Is this the honor guard? I mean, I know I’m cool, but not that cool.”
“I think they’re under the impression you might get lost in the modern world,” Dumbledore lies but he looks exasperated rather than upset. “And,” he goes on, a little quieter, “you still look twelve. Classes are called off for the day, so…”
I nod, then shrug. The more, the merrier. "Okay.”
***
Stepping outside the main gates feels freaky-weird. Mostly because I’m actually feeling fate’s tether wrap me in what feels a bit like a harness and wrinkle my nose as I wriggle until it settles right.
“Problem, Miss Devons?” Snape asks blandly, but also raises a ‘wtf’ eyebrow at me.
“Fate’s tethered me to the school. Like a skydiving harness, or one of those little toddler harnesses. It feels odd, is all,” I explain, still wriggling a bit, then snap my robes to skinny jeans and a thick, squashy, moss green sweater that falls to upper thighs and finally relax because reeeal clotttthes. Hallelujah. I stomp my feet into fashionable brown boots and add a lightweight coat and I’m good to go, and go with a smile. Seriously, real clothes again. YES.
“First,” Tonks says, pouting at my fashionably cute and casual outfit. “I want that skill,” she declares, then shakes her pout off and looks horrified. “Second, muggles put children in harnesses? Like on leashes?!”
I snort through a smile, then waggle my hand so-so as we carry on down the lane toward the village. “Not often, but some little kids have a knack for finding trouble with every two steps they take and usually worse when they’re taken out shopping and running errands. For the parents of those kids, a temporary leash is a necessity. Sounds awful, but enormously practical.”
“No,” Tonks refutes after a long second of thought. “Just awful,” she frowns. “Life without magic sounds miserable.”
“Nah, just a different level of normal. When you’re born into it, you don’t think about the alternatives much.”
"So, skydiving then?" Lupin asks, a baffled eyebrow lifted. "Muggles dive into the sky? How do they manage that without magic?"
I huff out a smile and explain, finally pausing when mine are the only footsteps I'm hearing and turn back— to find their collective expressions set in 'What brand of crazy are you?' mode of horrified gaping.
"You did that on purpose?!" Tonks demands.
I smirk back and shrug. "I'm uniquely qualified. Heights have never been an issue for me? Or falling, really? It was only the potentially sudden stop at the bottom if my chute failed that worried me."
They gape a little more while I roll my eyes, then jerk my head onward down the road. "We're still going to the hospital, yes?"
"Yes," Snape agrees, (to get us all moving again,) "We obviously need to get your head checked while we're there." (Both Tonks and Moody seem to agree.) (Likely Lupin too, but he's kind enough not to show it.)
“On a more practical note,” Lupin interrupts, half-turning toward me, “when is the last time you apparated?”
“Bah,” Moody grumbles, “she’ll be unlicensed anyway, 12 again and all.”
I slump because… oh yeah.
I mutter unhappily and kick at a few stones on the path until Hogsmeade comes into view and Moody stops with a grunt and a nod, then pulls an odd, bowler-style hat from nowhere and parks it on his head, tilted to cover his wonky eye.
“To St. Mungo’s, then.” He turns with a crack, vanishing on the spot and Tonks is already reaching for me when Lupin snags her and quick twirls her back to his side and they vanish with a pop when she grins back.
“They’re absurd together. I don’t know what you were thinking,” Snape complains, sneering a bit but I think that's mostly just a bit of envy, so I just shrug lightly back.
“Absurd or not, some things just make sense. So finding a slice of happiness to balance out the frequent bouts of 'terrible' we’ve been saddled with makes far more sense than not,” I say, leaning into him and hope he knows he's definitely one of my happy slices. “Also, I hope you know where we’re going, because I don’t.”
He rolls his eyes, wraps his arm around my shoulders and the world squeezes tight around us, then shifts.
***
I’m just fine getting to the hospital.
And I’m fine getting into the hospital.
I’m even fine in the magical lift up to the correct floor of the hospital.
I’m not fine when I overhear an aged woman with a terrifyingly ugly hat lecturing a young boy of ten or eleven about what heroes his parents are, even if they can’t show it anymore.
I’m less fine when the boy’s mother comes into view, shuffling closer in day robes and slippers and half-vacant eyes to tuck a bit of paper into the kid’s hand and he thanks her quietly while the woman’s eyes drift off and a nurse hurries forward to gently return her to the room we’re aiming for.
The kid’s father, I assume, is looking pained and nervous and uncomfortable by the additional commotion of the hat lady, the kid, the added healers and nurses milling around the hall and now Lupin, edging in past the crowd and kneeling to speak with him, a gentle, familiar smile in place.
“They’re friends?” I ask, almost silently but I feel Snape nod at my side in equal silence and tug us out of the way of another pair of healers to come edging closer, speaking quietly with Moody and and soon the old woman’s leading the boy for the lift and talking about errands and I nearly swallow my tongue with the urge to call them back but there’ll be too many people already but that kid, shit— “Don’t let them leave yet,” I breathe out. “Tonks—“
“I’ll get her,” Snape murmurs and then he's striding off and I’m swaying alone, only not swaying but almost drawn forward through the newly crowded doorway with steps I don't remember taking until Lupin’s back in sight, even as he’s standing to move away and I'll need him close to keep me level and not exploding with guilty misery.
“I’ll need a wand,” I rasp quietly and finally, the rest of the small crowd of healers are wedging into the room but staying near the walls and Lupin’s at my back, squeezing my shoulder while I shut my eyes and taste bile when I reopen them and see the full damage to their psyches. Fuck. “This will take some,” I stop, clear my throat and start again, a little louder. “This will take some repetition, so you’ll all get some practice,” I say bluntly to the assembly, most of who look like they’re merely humoring me, but with Moody glaring firmly at anyone who looks to interrupt, it’s a mostly quiet affair.
I approach the man first, hoping a first dose will calm him. “Wand swish down-half-up, like a letter J,” I instruct, but keep my eyes on his face where his nervous smile is small but kind and real. Placidly insane, just as Dumbledore had said. “The counter sounds a bit like Arabic or Hebrew, for those who know any,” I add, then swish. “Hellemaraun,” I say clearly, and with a soft flash of gold that seems to sink into his head, the man blinks at me with surprise, then at the floor, then back at me again, then over my shoulder and squints a little, confused.
“Remus?” He rasps, then almost flinches at the sound of his own voice.
Then the room gets noisy in a hurry, but I ignore the racket and wave a stunned, middle-aged healer closer, let her practice twice, repeating the word slower until the pronunciation is right and wave toward the woman, Alice, who comes out of it a little panicked at all the commotion but is quickly soothed by the next healer to come forward and repeat the process, then the next on the husband, Frank, and then two more healers until I'm thrusting Lupin’s wand back at him while he eyes me with worry but still brushes warm comfort and gratitude through our connection.
I give him a (hopefully) reassuring nod, then edge my way back out, almost tripping over the kid squeezing his way back into the room with a repetition of ‘Mum? Dad? Mum?!’ and hear Alice's raspy 'Neville?!' in response and have to hold my breath to keep from bursting into tears right then and there.
Tonks nabs me into a tight hug the second I'm clear of the room and squeezes, murmuring into my ear over and over “It’s okay now. You did good, it’s okay now. Give them a minute, alright? They'll want to thank you—"
And fuck, that’s so, so much worse because she doesn’t know, hasn’t been told and then Moody’s prying her off of me but giving me a firm nod that says ‘Go, I’ve got it from here,' and then Snape’s all but shoving me into the lift and glaring off a visitor also trying to enter to escape the commotion until the man freezes under Snape's dark expression, then (wisely) turns nervously toward the stairway instead.
“What do you need?” Snape demands bluntly the second the lift's in motion and fuck but I appreciate the hell out of that bluntness right now.
“Air. Space,” I gasp out, trembling and queasy and he wastes no time hauling me outside, tucks me under his shoulder and the world squeezes in and twists again.
***
It smells like forest and a bit like ash but it’s space and I waste no time hauling one deep breath in after another until I feel a little less like shifting and fleeing and giving in to that dream, Wyn’s painting clutched carefully in my mouth and just— escaping.
But I don’t.
I don’t because I still remember what I did, what it took, how many lives were ultimately stolen and destroyed and devastated in the making of that sick, blasphemous curse of pure cruelty— all of them were. It didn’t matter that it was largely utilitarian, nor did it matter that I couldn’t feel an emotional echo because— because it was a study of the mind at the hands of a magical, soulless psychopath on a mission to learn it all.
Fuck my entire existence. Seriously. Fuck it all.
“Tonks doesn’t know,” I finally mutter, and it comes out a muffled croak because I’m apparently clutching Snape's jacket like a lifeline with my forehead resting on his chest while he stands, not quite statue-like with a soothing hand rubbing gently up and down my back.
“I’d have thought Moody would’ve told her. Dumbledore brought him in last night to question Godric as best he could,” Snape answers quietly. I nod, steel myself with one last inhale of iron oak and warm silver and sweet grass, then finally step back and look around.
We’re in the woods…. Somewhere. Somewhere definitely not Hogwarts.
“Where are we?” I ask, because half these trees don’t look quite like the trees in the woods that I’m used to seeing.
Snape sighs and nudges me down the path we’ve been standing on and says only: “Visiting family.”
While he and I haven’t gotten overly in-depth with discussions of family beyond the necessary, I’d been under the impression Snape didn’t have much family left that he considered to be family at all. But as we walk and breathe and just be, I’ll be glad if that’s not the case. Everyone needs someone and if he’s still got that—
The bellow from just past the next ridge is unmistakable and I freeze with wide eyes while Snape halts two steps further and turns half back with a cocky smirk and soft eyes.
“I didn’t say it was my family.”
I just blink at him, stunned almost breathless because his usually shady aura flickers crystal clear for a heartbeat but that’s more than enough for me to see the echo of a drop of liquid luck accompanying the deliberate sacrifice of a full bottle— an offering to fate itself to get me out. To get me here. To give me a break, if only a small one.
Holy… shit. If this isn’t proof he’s a bona fide marshmallow under all the grumpy sneers and bitter sarcasm, I don’t know what is.
“We’ve a former student waiting on us,” he finally mutters uncomfortably when I gape for a bit too long, then resumes walking with a “Are you coming?” Called over his shoulder and I shadow-blink to catch up, then grin like an idiot when the next cry sounds out, both a greeting and a challenge that I have to fight not to reply to. I can’t see them yet, but I can feel them now, holy shit. Dragons.
***
“Professor Snape!” Is called through the trees on our left and Snape slows a few steps, then veers us that way, off the path and yup. There’s no mistaking that hair for anything but Weasley and Snape makes the briefest introductions— I’m less thrilled he’s wearing dragon-skin long gloves that reach to the middle of his upper arms, but he’s got a low and hot coal fire behind him with two toasty eggs within and my eyebrows shoot up, because one of them—
“Aww, he’s hatching!” I coo, bouncing on my toes a little while this Weasley cants a perplexed look at me, then Snape, then me again.
“Any day now,” he agrees, smiling wide. “I was just turning them for the day, but if you’d like—“
“No, I mean he’s hatching now,” I reiterate, then grin and swing around him to kneel half in the coals while Snape snorts and dryly talks ‘Charlie’ into settling down. “You’ll miss it if you don’t get over here,” I laugh, smiling back at them, my eyes shimmering dragon-amber (and likely slitted) this close to new dragon life and Charlie stills as he stares at me, his eyes going wide.
“You’re a dragon,” he rasps breathlessly and behind him, Snape smirks.
“I’m a dragon who’s telling you there’s going to be a baby dragon in under a minute and you’ll miss it if—“
And that’s all it takes.
Even Snape is a bit impressed by the cutest dragon ever (no bigger than a month old kitten) to come rolling out of his shell and flop-landing on his back, little clawed feet wriggling adorably in the air and Charlie looking absurdly proud. I look to the second egg and frown, rolling it a bit toward me and sigh.
“This one’s gone, though,” I murmur and now Charlie looks stricken.
“You can tell? It-- it might still have a few days—“
I shake my head and cradle it gently, turning it a bit until I see it. “No heartbeat… and a malformation of the larynx, looks like.”
“You can see through the shell?” Charlie asks, amazed.
“Yes and no? I can definitely feel through the shell,” I offer, which is half-true because showing off too much ability to someone I've just met isn’t always wise. “And so will the mother; she’ll probably eat it… which is both gross and perfectly natural,” I add, setting the egg carefully back into the coals and return my attention to the other who’s now trying to nip at Charlie’s denim-covered knee like he’s sure it’s a giant, midday snack. I grin, then run a quick, heavy finger from the bony crown of his head straight down his spine to let the reflex poke the twin lines of tiny blue-brown spines out and he makes a ticklish, happy sound almost like a chirping cow, then comes happily ambling my way while they all lay flat again.
“What— what was that?” Charlie demands, amazed and looking like I’d just performed some sort of miracle before his very eyes.
“Nervineal spine reflex, a bit like the mother would do with her tongue,” Iexplain. “It’s mostly to scent mark at this age, but it also soothes, like petting a cat from ears to tail. Also strengthens relation perception, though. Meaning if you, personally, do it more than once or twice a day as the baby mama allows, you might find this little guy adopting you by accident. Not necessarily a bad thing since it'll help him see you as more family and less food when he gets bigger. A big bonus for him, though, is that it helps strengthen the spinal and hackle musculature a bit quicker for easier battle defense when he’s big enough for play fighting and later when he’s battle fighting."
Charlie’s gawping at me a bit, then jerks when the baby hiccups with a burst of flame and scorches the knee of his jeans. Then he hiccups again and sets the bush to my right on fire and I snort and wave the fire out with a gesture, still grinning.
“Good lungs for such a little guy,” I murmur fondly, scratching under his chin with one hand and sweeping a firm knuckle down the underside of his throat to help settle the spasm and the little guy actually purrs. “Gods, they’re cute at this size. I’d nearly forgotten.”
“Hope you didn’t forget everything,” Snape sighs out, like this is all a terrible chore, but there’s a gentleness there, too. “This entire valley is enchanted from view.”
“It is!” Charlie agrees, grinning wide as he scoops the now yawning baby into his arms, then expertly wraps it in its own wings to settle it. “Those whole habitat— we can watch them fly all day out here,” he says proudly and my jaw drops.
I whip my head back to Snape and that smirk— holy shit. “I can fly here?” I croak, almost breathless.
“As long as your fated harness will let you… yes,” he murmurs softly, but I hear him fine and might, right that second, fall a bit in love because holy shit, he’s no marshmallow— he’s a Cadbury Easter egg. Dark and a little bitter on the outside and pure syrup-sweet goo on the inside.
“Wings?” Charlie blinks, then widens his eyes. “You have wings?!” He croaks and I snort-smirk in unison with Snape.
“If I didn’t, I’d be a giant, fire-breathing lizard. Where’s the fun in that?”
Charlie just blinks and cuddles (I think he’s maybe forgotten he’s even holding him) the now-dozing baby dragon, so he doesn’t follow when I stand and head for a free-ish patch of open forest with a giddy little squeal (I feel no shame, because I’m twelve all over again) and finally let go, magic dissolving clothes to scales and my wings unfolding and then a small, happy hop (Wyn told me looked adorable) and a single beat of wings and I’m there, rocketing upward towards the clouds, a second beat of my wings and a twist and then I’m gliding along on my side, cool air tickling my belly scales and it’s perfect.
I sweep the very perimeter of the valley, following the gentle, buzzing sensation of magic keeping me and others from straying too close to the outside world while I peruse the terrain, keeping mental count of the varied species soaring and playing and napping below and I’m so, so grateful to see them all in action, still living free, as much as the modern world will let them.
Gods, I’ve missed this and have probably been blocking myself from realizing just how much until now.
From the corner of my eye, a tiny shower of gold sparks erupt from where I — oh. From where I totally abandoned my friend and our Weasley dragon habitat guide. Oops?
I swoop down and in, send up a small shower of forest leaves and the baby’s coal fire flares up for a second before I’m tucking my wings tighter to keep from leveling all the trees and land with a less-than-graceful thud, but Snape’s smirking, so it’s all good.
And now Lupin, Tonks and Moody are here too, all smiling like stupidly brave idiots while Charlie’s eyes, bizarrely, seem to have grown twice their size. I dragon-chuckle, which only sounds a little threatening, but Tonks is bouncing excitedly on her toes and Lupin’s already striding forward like a dragon-charming badass and brushes his hand up between my eyes, then just past my short silver-golden horns.
“Having fun? Because you look like it,” he murmurs quietly and I half-close my eyes, nod slightly, then dragon-purr contentedly, rattling pebbles on the ground around my head while Lupin grins fondly.
“That— looks like so much fun,” Tonks gushes, still bouncing, eyes crinkling but edging forward cautiously until Lupin tugs her close and presses her hand to my leathery head and I chuckle again, then blow out gentle steam from my nose against her ankles just to hear her squeal while Snape and Moody both smirk.
Beside Snape, Charlie’s still just staring and his eyes are huge. And then he’s not just staring, but stumbling forward, the baby still in his arms and NOPE. I pull my human skin back on in triple time (ouch) and am pointing a stern finger at him a second later.
“Not with that baby, you don’t, mister,” I warn and he freezes, then looks down to the snoozing dragon he’s cradling and I have to fight to keep my serious face on. “I do not want to battle with the mum if that little guy still smells like dragon-me when she gets back.”
“Oh,” Charlie says, seeing the problem. “And then Battle Royale, I take it?”
“SO MUCH battle,” I agree, nodding. “And I’d win and then feel bad for hurting the baby mama and then everything would be terrible.”
Behind me, Tonks cracks up again, giggling into Lupin’s shoulder while he grins at me and pats her back. “She’s excited,” he explains and Tonks just laughs harder and really needs to stop soon or she’ll set me off too.
“But you’re a Mezaninne Dragon,” Charlie sighs with a sad little half-smile. “A Mezaninne Gold and Silver.”
“Yeah,” I sigh back. “I’m pretty much the last, I think.” I don’t think— I know it by the faint ache in my blood, but being here with distant cousins helps.
“They— I thought they died out a millennia ago, though—“ Charlie maybe sees my flinch because he’s instantly contrite, apologetic and miserable (with Snape glaring a hole in Charlie’s head), even with Moody patting him reassuringly on the back.
There’s a sudden rattle from the other end of the valley and then a roar of sheer agony and I whip around.
“What was that?” Charlie demands, all kind voice gone, like he’s just hit battle mode himself.
“Muggle machine gun fire,” I breathe out because yeah, I know that sound intimately, then I wince at the next rattle and pained roar. “Do you get hunters out here?” I growl softly.
“Not for a while now. Thought we’d scared the last of them off,” Charlie snarls, glaring out at the valley and cuddling the baby a bit closer.
The next series of shots has my spinal hackles rising an inch and I snarl at the ground when another dragon screeches in agony just as the first cries out weakly, already dying. I clench my claws into my palms and let the pain anchor me.
“They’re killing them,” I comment as calmly as I can but staring pointedly at Charlie, who then stares down at the snoozing baby, looking torn. “Go,” I instruct, magic-cleansing my hands of blood and quick-scooping the baby up into my own arms. “Knock them out, sprinkle them with whiskey, leave the machine guns in the back seat of their car and magic their car straight into whichever police station is closest out here. In most countries, it’s at least a year in prison.” I head nod outward and Charlie blinks, then grins like a vindictive fiend.
“My twin brothers would love you,” he says and cracks as he disappears.
“Notttt if they knew how many pranks I’ve ruined for them,” I sigh quietly and stroke the belly of the baby and Tonks comes over to coo at it.
“So, Mezaninne, eh?” Moody grunts, only now joining the crowd of baby dragon fans (which is everyone, even if Snape’s only cooing on the inside). “Thought I recognized those horns and spikes... Yer dragon royalty.”
“Royalty?” Snape repeats slowly, eyebrows arching with every syllable and I feel my cheeks heat a little.
“Not deliberately,” I chuff, then carefully tip the baby into Tonk’s arms so she can coo a little dragon lullaby to him. “The other species just… listened to us. If we decided three valleys west was a better valley, they didn’t argue. They just followed and trusted us not to lead them wrong, I suppose. I’m literally the only one I’ve ever known, so I don’t know much more than stories, but I’ve had vivid enough dreams when I sleep in my scales, so…” I shrug.
“Sleep in your scales,” Lupin repeats, raising a funny eyebrow at me.
“You’ve dozed off in your fur before; I’ve seen it. Did you have people-shaped dreams then?”
Lupin freezes, then huffs. “Guess not,” he mutters and I’m soo digging into that later with him, because he smells half-entertained and mildly aroused— actually, yeah, no, scratch that. He's the equivalent of my brother; I don’t want to know about those dreams.
“There you go then,” I say instead, then flinch at the next rattle of gunfire, and flinch twice so when the following pained screech sounds out, only this time, the baby wriggles and thrashes in Tonk’s arms, then settles a second later and I clamp my eyes shut. “That was baby mama,” I breathe out miserably.
“No,” Tonks whispers, dismayed and snuggles the little one a bit closer after he resettles.
“And you’re stayin’ out of it,” Moody says neutrally, like he’s okay with either a yes or a no, though Snape’s mini-frown says he knows I’ll be unhappy if I don’t and would worry if I did.
“If I go down there and the hunters aren't gone, I might end up barbecuing someone on instinct alone,” I mutter, wincing. “Or magic the guns into shooting them back and neither is ideal for my super-shiny karma.” I shake my head, eyes shutting when I hear the last dying plea of dragon life before it tapers off into silence.
“Should we maybe go before you start barbecuing from afar?” Lupin suggests quietly. “Your eyes have gone orange again.”
I open my mouth to answer and then jerk in place at the same time a single, final crack echoes out from across the valley.
“Jacklyn?” Snape asks, already stepping forward when I shake my head, feeling sick.
“Not me. Charlie.”
***
It’s not exactly easy (or especially smart) to disapparate or apparate with natural dragons in tow, so Lupin, Tonks and Moody pop out while Snape, the baby and I basically spell-glide down the ridges and only end up a minute or two behind the others at a small, magically protected camp. Thankfully, the hunters are gone already and another half-thankfully, Charlie’s alive but not even remotely alright.
Charlie is very pale. And his well-toned stomach is bleeding and there’s no sign of the bullet that I can see, so it’s a clean through-and-through. He’s surrounded by more than half a dozen people I’ve never seen, two of who are waving wands over him to help the healing along, but my nose alone tells me there’s an artery with a sizable chunk missing that’s not closing fast enough. But he’s a dragon keeper, a protector. And damn my dragon mentality, he’s already flock and I’m not letting any of my flock die unless they decide to.
I deposit the baby dragon into Snape’s hands (he can’t hide the wide-eyed shock of suddenly babysitting what will eventually become a very deadly creature and I’m soooo teasing him about it later) and gently press my way through the gathered people to Charlie’s side.
“When I said go, I didn’t mean ‘to the great beyond’,” I chide as I’m kneeling down and Charlie’s lip twitches.
“Eddie and Mac have it covered,” he grits out.
“No worries, missy,” the older one assures, but his voice trembles as he says it and he’s almost as pale as Charlie which means he knows better.
“You have a chunk of artery missing on your kidney,” I tell Charlie bluntly. “And yes, I do know. Would you like me to help?”
“By all means,” he rasps while everyone stares at me with various expressions of worry. (By their expressions, Charlie’s friends now seem worried I’m insane and my own friends worry what my ‘help’ will entail.)
“Downside being: it’s dragon magic. You won’t get scaly, but you’ll maybe inherit a few mental quirks that are way more dragon than human. And it’s irreversible.”
This has him blinking away from me in thought, and I’m glad he is, because it really is irreversible. I’d do it the old fashioned way, but I’m a little worried what the extra chunk of the raw I’m housing might do to something as complex as standard healing magic. Right now, dragon magic seems like the smarter option, not to mention more fitting.
“Jacklyn,” Lupin murmurs, eyes a bit wide, “are you sure—“
“Do it,” Mac orders, but he’s eyeing the small stream of heart-red blood now seeping from under Charlie’s coat with silent terror that his friend will soon be dead.
“Do it,” Charlie echoes, seeing the added worry on Mac’s face.
“Holler if you need to; it’ll hurt, but not for long,” I warn and let my eyes bleed over to dragon, let my claw tips grow to slice the edge of my free wrist enough to gather a bit of blood, then wedge it straight into the hole in Charlie’s gut. Predictably, he hollers and thrashes until I still him with a firm hand on his chest, but his efforts are weak from blood loss and because he’s got—
He’s got the rest of his life, and a long one, because the blood sears in, binds and winds and rebuilds the damaged tissue stronger, a tad bit thicker and a whole lot sturdier. I pull my claw free in increments, the magic weaving repairs until the hole itself seals up without a mark and the crowd shuffles and mumbles with surprise.
“Turn him slowly please?” I murmur, my voice echoing the tiniest bit and Eddie looks up and squawks with wide eyes, then scrambles back while Mac (who’s now my favorite) actually does as I ask and a minute later, Charlie’s obviously gonna live, even if he still looks a bit like a fresh corpse, he’s blinking back at me in a thankful sort of way.
“You’re a dragon,” Eddie croaks at me and looks close to wetting himself. I sigh and blink my eyes back to human. “You’re— what are you?”
“Unique,” Snape murmurs from the back of the crowd, nearly inaudible and I flash him an amused grin, then refocus on Charlie, who’s now staring at me with a bit of awe.
“So he’s alright?!” One of the strangers exclaims, shuffling from foot to foot. “That’s still a lot of blood for someone who’s going to be alright.”
“Are ya really complaining, Jimmy?” His shorter friend demands in a thick Irish accent, but he flashes me a bright smile. “Suppose we’re lucky ye stopped by then,” he says with a wink, like he doesn’t know that I know he’s at least a quarter leprechaun and knows fated luck as well as I do. I wink back and his eyes twinkle.
Behind me, Moody grunt-snorts without comment, but pats me on the shoulder in a reassuring way.
I eye Charlie again, glad a bit of his color’s already seeping back in. “Having lost that much blood, you’ll be crazy-hungry for the next few days, so: indulge, but make sure you’re meat’s cooked. Raw might smell better, but your body won’t like it much.” He responds with a tired hum of affirmation and a clear-but-tired micro-nod.
From the tree line on the left, there’s a gentle thrashing and a soft whining-roar I can’t ignore. “One down,” I sigh, standing and striding that direction with intent. “One to go.”
There’s a hearty chorus of yelped protests and then a mad scramble while half the crowd dashes after me to catch up but it’s Lupin who’s the quickest.
“Are you sure about this?” He hisses. “Please tell me fate’s giving you the go ahead?”
Fate flashes me a mental A-ok sign that feels more like humor than anything else. I mentally wink back at fate because yeah, you’d think my friends would know by now.
“Yup!” I chirp, then stop to look at him. “And that’s a mature, alpha-male Hungarian. You’re nowhere near to being immune to it’s fire, so—“
“We’ve got a muzzle for cases like these,” Eddie offers, looking a bit more settled now. “Won’t take long to get it on so we can check him over.”
“Let me take a quick look first?” I ask. “Maybe you won’t need it.”
I don’t wait for a reply, but do a quick climb up over a nest of boulders to see— damn.
“Yeah,” I call back down with a nod. “Bring it.”
***
I feel a bit like a teacher again, but playing the sometimes-student, swapping off tips and tricks for helping and healing and overall dragon behaviors that might be warnings of some kind, because Hungarians have quite a few. It’s odd that I feel such kinship with people I’ve never known before today and now it’s a bit of a rescue-mission turned party, complete with fire breathing fireworks, but it’s also a small farewell to the three dragons (one being the baby-mama) that had been lost.
Apparently it’s tradition here to spill a glass of dragons’ breath rum in honor of the fallen (rum that Charlie now swears smells like ambrosia rather than the faint trace of sulfur it usually does). I happily inform him if that’s the case, it’s now safe for him to drink, so long as he keeps a steady diet of meat and green foods for the next few days to balance it out.
Sally, the one woman of their group returned from she and her brother’s poacher-framing mission and was dismayed to hear she’d missed all the good stuff, wept a bit over the additional dragon losses, then dragged Tonks and I into a discussion of all things (adorable babies included) dragon-ish while cuddling the heck out of the newest addition until he managed to singe her finger and scrambled back over to Charlie, climbed him like a tree and wrapped around Charlie’s neck like an extravagant scarf that purred when petted. (It’s almost painfully adorable.)
I keep looking for a spare minute to nab Moody and nag a few answers out of him on Godric and about Tonks and what she's been told, but can't quite bully up the courage when those rare moments present themselves. I'd worry more, but when I chickened out for the third time, Fate sent me such a reassuring feeling of non-urgency, I finally let it go and opted to enjoy the remains of our free day instead.
When the sun hits the valley's upper horizon, Snape begins making grumbly noises about getting back for dinner, then mutters that if I want another fly around, now’s the time and I don’t waste a second of it, grinning at him like an idiot and air-bound fifteen seconds later, call-chortling for a quick game of chase that nine others answer to and it’s amazing, brushing wing-tips in a friendly sort of way while we swoop, twist and dive like old-school dog fighter planes.
While it's all kinds of amazing fun on it's own, I see the entire camp below and figure their efforts toward protection of my long lost kin has earned a treat and my slightly louder, repeating purr-bark has a dozen more dragons taking wing to join and I finally get to try something I'd only dreamt of. It takes a minute or two to growl, chuckle, and chatter-groan them into various positions, but connected to the various flocks as I am, it's easy after that to put on the sort of display of true dragon magic, artistic and joyful, that every dragon feels in the air. In three lines, we braid and roll and weave protective patterns with smoke and flame around the whole valley, then dive, swoop and sing our way low over the camp while I repeat the 'friend' version of claim until they all catch on. Only when the sun finally sinks to the horizon do we glide back to our respective groups and nests.
I swoop a bit further off to where the Hungarian is half-drugged and resting to breathe a bit of pain-lessening, quicker-healing fire magic over the newly-missing scales we’d had to remove to coax the bullets out. The old boy (another decade or two on him still) gives me a half-grumpy, half-glad rumble and a head-nuzzle-head-butt as I go. Then I glide back to the group, stretch thoroughly and finally pull my human skin back on and determinately ignore the slack-jawed staring while I stride back to my friends with an easy smile, already set to go.
"That was.... beautiful," Tonks sighs, looking a little dopey while the others nod beside her.
"A parting gift of sorts," I admit. "It's nice to know my... very extended family is being watched over. And much less likely you'll be accidentally eaten now," I add with a bright grin.
“Fucking amazing,” Sally breathes out while she leans into Charlie, likely not noticing the baby nibbling on her long curls. But their group all look amazingly content now, so I'm happy enough.
“You’re coming back though?” Charlie asks, already looking glum by my parting.
“I’ve… got a few things to take care of,” I shrug apologetically. “And then I'll visit. But, if you have questions, specifically about new instincts and baby dragon rearing... like how you need to choose a second and maybe a third parent so you can leave the valley without him instinctively following you," I stress with a significant look, "write me at school.”
“And beyond that,” Moody warns, his crazy eye pinning them all one by one, (everyone but Charlie and Mac flinch, though Lucky the part-leprechaun grins and winks, too), "you’ll keep it, and her, to yourselves.”
“We know, Alastair,” Charlie says with a serious nod. “We won’t forget,” he promises, then tugs me in for a quick and real hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs down into my hair, barely having let go before Snape’s wrapping his arm around me a bit protectively and the world twists.
***
Hogsmeade is set in late twilight when we arrive and I sigh contentedly just seeing the castle past the lake. “Home sweet home,” I murmur happily as we begin the trek back up the path. I bump against Snape again and give him a real smile, as warm and honest as I know how. “Thank you for that— for today. It was amazing seeing so many still thriving.”
Snape rolls his eyes, but it’s to cover his own awkward happiness and I just smile into the gathering night anyway. Then: “Of course, your majesty.”
“Oh gods,” I snort, head shaking and gently shoving him with my shoulder. “That is not going to be a new thing.”
He hums in response and I grumble-groan when I spy his lips twitching up to a silent smirk but he’s still not refuting it. It’s totally going to be a thing, damnit.
Moody, Lupin and Tonks are waiting at the gate when we get there, all still looking as relaxed-happy as I feel (as does Snape, even if only internally).
"Home sweet home," I repeat because it really, really is.