Harry Potter was confused when he woke up early on the morning of his sixteenth birthday, knowing that he usually didn’t get up this early on his own. He soon discovered what woke him, having had some surprising, some would say astounding or even extremely shocking, changes happen to him overnight.
The first thing he noticed was his eyesight. His glasses were still on his bedside cabinet, but everything was so perfectly clear. He had never seen with such clarity before, not even with his glasses on, and certainly not without them. Now, however, the dim bedroom on Number Four Privet Drive was like a whole new experience to the young wizard.
The tiny dust motes floating in the air, the individual strokes of paint on the bedroom walls, even the specks of dirt on the carpet, he could see it all. Colours, he noticed, were more vibrant and there was so much more to everything, every shade of colour, every imperfect shape, every tiny little pattern. He never knew that so many shades of white existed. His eyesight was better than any normal humans’ could ever possibly be.
Having been staring for twenty minutes at the wood grain pattern on his beat-up, second-hand dresser, Harry figured he had better see what other changes he had gone through. His eyesight couldn’t be the only difference. Hopefully, they were as wonderful as his newfound sight.
After checking to make sure the Dursleys were still asleep, he tip-toed down to the bathroom. Upon entering the tiled, stark-white room and flicking on the harsh lights, he could only stare in shock at the mirror. The boy in the reflection was taller than he could remember being, standing about 5'6” in height. His face had lost its roundness, leaving high cheekbones clearly visible. He had full, pouty lips, and a thin nose that was just right. Deep, emerald green eyes were framed by long, sooty lashes. His hair was like pure silk, cascading down to his waist in an inky black waterfall. There was no possible way his aunt and uncle would not notice that his hair had grown at least a foot longer overnight.
His body was slender and more shapely, with a thin waist and more rounded hips. Long legs and a pert butt only added to the attractiveness. His skin was perfectly smooth and unblemished, without a single freckle or scar - other than the lightning bolt, which he was now fully convinced that he would never be rid of - to mar the ivory flesh. He was absolutely beautiful.
Stripping off his clothes to get a better look, Harry peered once more into the mirror. Hardly believing the reflection in the mirror was him, he twirled around, and a glint of something caught his eye. He looked closer, trying to see what it was that had caught his attention. Suddenly he gasped. Scales! Hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny scales covered his body.
The small white scales blended so perfectly with his skin that he could hardly tell they were there at all. After looking closer he saw that the scales were all over his body. They started at the top of his neck and went down his shoulders and back. They continued downwards, over his arse and legs. His chest and stomach were covered in the glittering scales as well.
The scales did not cover every inch of skin, but swirled with some sort of intricate design. Looking at his face he saw that there were scales there, but they were even tinier than the others, so small that one would miss them if they weren’t looking properly. They were on his forehead, circling the accursed scar, and swirled over his cheeks and cheekbones, trailing down his jawline and over his ears. Scales shone around his eyes and over his nose. There were even scales on his eyelids! He couldn't believe it. This had to either be a crazy dream, or some sort of hallucination.
‘What on earth am I? He wondered, panicking. Am I some sort of snake or lizard? Maybe even a type of dragon? Do I have wings to go with the scales?’
No sooner did he finish that thought than he felt an excruciating, searing pain in his back. He fell to his knees and gasped silently, in too much pain to make any noise, as he felt his shoulders rip open and liquid rush down his back.
Glancing up at the mirror in fear, he saw that there were indeed wings sprouting from his back. Not only that, but he was bleeding quite heavily from where they had burst through his skin, and they were covered in blood and a thin, mucous-like membrane.
Through the blood and mucous, he could see glimpses of leathery white wings, covered in larger, more textured versions of the same gleaming white scales that covered his face and body. Harry stared in awe at the beautiful appendages attached to his back by solid, thin bones. They were almost as tall as he was, arching up from where they merged with his ribcage and the tops of his shoulder blades, to where they trailed slightly on the floor behind him. He flexed the wings, stretching them out as wide as they would go, wanting to get used to the feel of them. He guessed the wingspan was probably about twelve feet.
‘I hope I can fly with these. It would be so much better than flying on a broom. I wonder if I can make them go away as easily as they came.’
The wings immediately receded into his back with barely a thought and the smallest twitch of the muscles in his back and shoulders. Luckily, they vanished without causing as much pain as calling them had. He cleaned up the blood that had splattered all over the bathroom when his wings had burst from his back, took a quick shower to scrub away all the blood that had poured down his back when his wings appeared, did another quick once-over of the bathroom to see if he had missed any blood, and got dressed.
‘I'd better get back to my room before the Dursleys get up. I really don't want to deal with them right now. I just want to get my things ready for when whoever picks me up. Thank Merlin I don't have to spend another night in this house. I don't know why that old fool sent me back here in the first place. With Voldemort gone and most of the Death Eaters in Azkaban, I would be just as safe at Remus's or the Burrow. Hell, I’d probably be safer there. Even an inn on Diagon Alley would be safer than here. Meddling old coot.’
Back in his room, Harry decided to do some research. He wanted to know what sort of creature he had become, so he got out every single one of his books on magical creatures, he flipped through them until finally, he saw something in the thickest tome, which was, ironically, a late birthday gift from Hermione the previous year.
Drackens (also Dragon Kind)
Drackens are a rare breed of magical creatures. They are said to be nearly extinct with the numbers of the population dropping as more and more Drackens breed with humans in order to avoid detection, causing the bloodline to die out. Wizards also hunt Drackens for their blood and scales which are useful for certain potions and spells. They are also considered to be Dark creatures by the Ministry and therefore dangerous to society. There are rumoured to be less than a hundred Drackens still alive. Though this number may be greater as Drackens have become adept at hiding their creature characteristics and blending in with humans.
Harry lowered the book, deep in thought. ‘Interesting. I wonder if there are any Drackens at Hogwarts. Surely I'm not the only one. But then again if there are so few…’ He shook off those upsetting thoughts and turned back to the book.
There are two kinds of Drackens: Dominant and Submissive.
Dominant Drackens are nearly always male, at least ninety-five percent of the time. There have been two or three documented, proven cases of a dominant female, but they seem to be very rare.
Dominants are always much larger and more vicious than the submissives. This is to protect both the submissive and any offspring they may have. They are very possessive of what they deem as “theirs” whether it is their mate(s) or their belongings, and exceedingly territorial, likely due to the dragon blood flowing through them. They become at their most vicious and aggressive when their submissive is in heat, pregnant or nesting. Any threat to their mate or young would be removed without hesitation, even if the supposed threat is their own family.
To the outside world, dominants appear to be cold and cruel, only showing any tenderness to their mate and young. Even then, a dominant still tends to be a bit rough, as they do not know their own strength.
A dominant will punish a submissive if he feels the sub has done wrong, though they will never cause a submissive any permanent harm, as Drackens -being dragons- are rather vain and prideful, and having a perfectly flawless, beautiful submissive is an incredible source of pride for any dominant.
Submissive Drackens are usually female, though there are a handful of well-documented rumours of submissive males, however, the rumours are as of yet unproven. If male submissives exist, they, like female dominants, are incredibly rare. Submissive males are perfectly capable of carrying and giving birth to young. This is only possible if the submissive breeds with a dominant Dracken, as intercourse with a human will result in infertility. Copulating with a human male will never result in a pregnancy. And though a submissive male could marry and copulate with a human female, the union most likely could not produce young as it is unknown whether or not submissive males are able to sire young.
Though submissives are smaller, they can be just as vicious as dominants if their offspring are threatened. Most documented cases of deaths caused by a Dracken were because the victim threatened the Dracken’s offspring. The other cases were dominants killing because the victim had either threatened or insulted the submissive. Submissives will almost never kill for their dominant, as - much like their dragon ancestors - the dominant is expected to defend himself and protect his family, while the submissive is only required to protect the young, not the dominant.
A submissive may, in rare cases, have more than one dominant mate. A powerful Submissive may need as many as three Dominants to become pregnant. An extraordinarily powerful Submissive may need as many as six or seven. It is unknown exactly why they need so many, but it is speculated that the number of mates solves some sort of power imbalance between the power of the submissive and the dominants.
Both dominant and submissive Drackens are extremely durable and notoriously hard to kill. Because of their tough skin, most spells will not affect a Dracken. Also, the scales are highly reflective, meaning spells will just bounce right off them. Though one exemption is the killing curse.
Drackens are also known to have an allergy to saltwater, which causes the skin to become irritated and inflamed. Though not a deadly allergy, it can cause serious harm including, but not limited to: itching, burning, boils and, if the saltwater remains in contact with the eyes for too long, can even cause blindness.
Characteristics/Features of a Dracken include:
Dominants have scales covering about fifty percent of the body, excluding wings, which are covered entirely. The dominant will always have darker scales ranging from black to dark reds, blues, greens, purples, etc.
Submissives have scales covering about seventy-five to eighty percent of their bodies. Their wings are also covered entirely. The submissives scales will start out purely white and, over time, will darken to reflect the colour(s) of their mate(s).
A dominant’s wings are large, spanning up to twenty feet in length depending on a variety of factors: age, height, weight, (and/or) how powerful the Dracken is. Dominants will proudly display their wings for a potential mate. The larger the wings, the more impressive they appear to a sub.
A submissive’s wings are not as large as their dominant counterpart, spanning only about thirteen to fifteen at most.
Both dominant and submissive can use their wings to fly long distances without tiring, and at great heights without worrying about altitude sickness.
Both dominant and submissive Dracken have these, though both the fangs and the claws are significantly larger on the dominant, they are usually kept sheathed until needed for killing, hunting or protecting. Both are large and deadly. Submissives claws are acidic.
Despite having several heat periods a year, submissives will have only two times in a year in which they can get pregnant. Both times will last approximately ten days. A dominant will breed almost continually with a sub to ensure more offspring. Neither will feed during this time of continuous breeding.
Breeding cycles vary with each submissive, but it has been observed that the most common time for a Dracken submissive to conceive is sometime in the winter. However, the observed pregnancies were all female submissives. It is unknown whether the male submissives conceive at the same time as the females.
A submissive Dracken’s gestation period is approximately seven months. The dominant will be extremely protective during this time, and will rarely let the pregnant sub out of his sight. The dominant may refuse to let anyone near their sub, including family members, and will definitely refuse to let them near dominant Drackens. The only exceptions are if the submissive is mated to more than one dominant, then only the other dominant(s) are allowed near the sub.
This is also because in order to keep the offspring healthy and growing the dominant will need to share his 'essence' so to speak with his sub. He will do this by touching to share sweat, kissing to share saliva, ejaculating into his mate to give semen, and feeding his blood - and therefore, his magic - to the sub and the unborn child.
Symptoms of pregnancy may include and are not limited to, nausea, irritability, dizziness, sensitivity to the cold, a craving for raw meat, and outbursts of accidental magic.
When close to birthing the submissive will feel a need for high, dark places. Once the submissive finds and makes a suitable 'nest' they will stay there until after the birth.
A submissive Dracken will give birth alone. The dominant(s) will not be permitted entry to the nest until after the process is over. A submissive will give birth to between one and five young, or 'chicks' as they are called. Once the birth is over and the new mother has nursed the chicks, then the father will be allowed to enter.
The chicks will nurse for twelve weeks before they are mature enough to start being weaned off the breast - or bottle, if they are bottle-fed, but only if the mother wishes them to be.
Harry closed the book, having read the relatively small section enough to practically memorize it.
‘So I'm a submissive Dracken, will have at least one dominant Dracken mate, will give birth to Dracken chicks and will nurse said Dracken chicks.’
He paused, breathing heavily with panic. Forcing himself to take deep, even breaths, he thought over the past several hours. Falling asleep human, waking up a submissive Dracken, and discovering all the changes that came with the inheritance. A male submissive Dracken, which there were no proven records of, and were basically thought to be myths.
“It's okay. I can handle this. It's not completely horrible.” He muttered to himself, trying to talk himself through it. “I think I could enjoy being a Dracken. Of course, I can never tell anyone what I am. There's no one I'd trust with something like this. Except maybe Remus.” He fell back into his thoughts. ‘Do Drackens and Werewolves even get along? They must, after all, Remus was friends with mum and dad. And they were obviously Drackens. I wonder if anyone knew about them? Probably not. Well if my parents didn't tell Remus, then maybe I shouldn't either. We'll see.’
He was upset at the prospect of lying to Remus, his surrogate godfather, and his rock since Sirius died. Thinking of Sirius made Harry wonder if he had known about his parents being Drackens. After all, they were best friends, and since the transformation happened at sixteen, there was no way that Sirius wouldn’t have noticed. But, since the Dracken inheritance transformation happened at sixteen, what happened to the year between the inheritance and when his parents got together? He supposed there was no chance of him finding out, now.
Thinking of his parents made him think about himself, and his own love life. He had never shown interest in anyone, had never fallen in love - at first sight or otherwise - and had never had a chance to explore sexually, let alone practice, as most of his year mates had. What if his dominant, or dominants, hated him? What he had read said nothing about that, but did explain why he had never really fancied girls, and why he didn’t drool over Fleur like almost every other guy back when he was in fourth year.
‘Hmm. I guess this explains why I have no interest in women, I'm not meant to be with one. A male would be better to protect me anyway. And my chicks. My mate will have to be powerful, as well as handsome. A strong mate will give me even stronger children.’ The thought made him purr in delight, shocking him. Where in Merlin’s name did that thought come from? Getting pregnant and having children at sixteen? Had he gone insane?
‘Calm down. Calm down. It’s okay, it’s just instinct. These are your new instincts. Dracken numbers are rapidly decreasing, of course your instincts are going to be screaming at you to reproduce. You'd better get used to them. Fighting yourself will only bring you pain, and you've had enough pain to last you a lifetime. Try to let yourself be happy. This will turn out alright in the end, just wait and see.
Harry sighed, knowing that he was tired of fighting and wanted to be happy. He wanted a strong, powerful mate - or mates - to take care of him, and he definitely wanted children to protect, care for, and - of course - love. ‘I just never thought I'd give birth to them but it might be nice. To feel them growing in my belly, have them nursing at my breast…’
He laughed at the thought. ‘Okaay... that one's a little weird. But still, not too bad. I'd have a family. A real family. And it would be nice to have someone take care of me for a change.’
He decided that he would have to hide his new appearance, which was a shame because he liked his true look. However, he knew that if he was seen covered in scales, with the supernatural beauty that came with his inheritance, that he would be arrested.
Harry put the book back in his trunk and sat down on the bed. First, he stripped off his shirt and willed his wings to appear. It was much less painful this time, with very little blood. He ran a wet cloth he had taken from the bathroom over the scales and then shuddered in pleasure. Just running a cloth over his wings felt one hundred times better than the few times he had masturbated put together.
Deciding not to touch his wings like that, he willed his claws and fangs to appear. His claws were long and sharp. Just barely running them along the curtains slashed the fabric to ribbons. Being that sharp, they could tear through flesh as easily as a hot knife through butter, even without secreting the acid. He wondered how much of the acid was produced, and whether he could coat his claws willingly, but no matter how much he concentrated, no amount of the acid would appear. He figured that he had to be in legitimate danger for his claws to produce and secrete the acid.
His four fangs were equally sharp, though not quite as long as his claws. Two fangs took the place of his eyeteeth, emerging from the top of his jaw and resting gently on his upper lip, while the bottom two fangs were hidden when his mouth was closed.
Next, he concentrated on willing them away. First the fangs and claws, then the glorious white wings. Then, he focused all his magic on willing his scales away and his hair to go back to the birds’ nest it used to be, and if his hair receding into his scalp wasn’t the weirdest thing he had ever felt. Once it was complete he looked himself over in the reflection of the window, everything was back to normal.
The only thing he didn't want to go back to was his formerly horrible eyesight. After too long of being nearly blind and having to wear glasses, there was no way he was going back to being blind and deny himself freedom from them. He had no more need of his glasses, so he chucked them into his trunk. If anyone asked, he'd tell them he got contacts. It wasn’t like anyone would actually notice, anyway. Very few actually saw him as a person. Most just saw the scar.
Harry didn't know who would be coming to get him, as the only mail he had received was from Luna, Neville, Remus, and the twins. There had been no word from anyone else the entire summer, not that he had expected any. After his falling out with Ron, Hermione, not wanting to jeopardize her budding relationship with the redhead, had not had any contact with Harry. He was sure she would get over her idiocy eventually, but he was not so sure about Ron. If he did, Harry was not sure that he would be willing to forgive him. How could he possibly stay friends with someone like Ron, who had turned on him time after time, and would probably turn on him again?
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. It seems his escort had arrived.
Jumping up, Harry swung open the door and his pseudo-godfather immediately pulled him into a warm hug.
"Remus." He grinned.
"Cub. All ready to go?"
Harry nodded his head. "Everything's packed. Let's go. I can't wait to get out of here."
Remus laughed. Giving his wand a wave, he shrunk the trunk and slipped it into the pocket of his robe. "Alright then, let's get going."
"How are we getting there?"
"By Knight Bus."
Harry grimaced. "Well, at least it's not by Portkey."
An hour later found Harry walking into Grimmauld Place, the one building - besides his aunt and uncle’s - he never wanted to set foot in again. He was greeted by Mrs Weasley with a hug and a warm smile. As always, she worried about how skinny he was. It was heartwarming, the way she mothered him, but after being half-starved for the past several weeks, he could barely stomach a quarter of the plate she placed in front of him. After excusing himself, Harry asked Remus for his trunk. Learning it was already in his room, he ran upstairs, only to find Ron and Hermione snogging on his bed.
He threw open the door, and it hit the wall with a bang, startling the two apart. Hermione jerks off Ron’s lap as she spins around, while Ron just turns and glares at the doorway.
“Oh!” Hermione gasps, shocked by his appearance. “Hi, Harry! When did you get here?”
“About ten minutes ago.” He raises his eyebrow, glancing between the two. “Which you would know if you two could stop snogging for long enough to check that you made it onto the right bed.”
“Hey!” Ron shot upright. “This is my bed!”
“If you’re so sure, Ron…” Harry narrowed his eyes at his former best mate. “Then why is your trunk on the opposite side of the room? After all, that’s my trunk at the end of the bed you two were practically fucking on.”
“Harry!” Hermione chastised him. “There’s no need for that kind of language!”
“Oh, shove off, Hermione!”
“Oi!” Ron shot off the bed, starting towards Harry. “Don’t talk to her that way!”
“Don’t talk to her that way?” Harry snarked back. “Then how should I talk to her? Considering this is the first time either of you has said a single word to me since we got off the train! Not one single word from either of you!”
“Is that Harrykins we hear?” The twins poked their heads through the door.
“Our Harrykins!” They immediately began their twinspeak, Fred -Harry was almost certain it was Fred- starting the sentence, and George -it had to be, since he was sure Fred started the sentence- finishing it.
“Fred! George!” Harry lit up when they entered the room, smiling broadly at the pair of identical redheads. “How are you? How’s the shop?”
“Are these two-”
“Bothering you, Harrykins?”
“Just a disagreement.” Hermione tried to gloss over the argument.
“What it sounded like-”
“To us.” They finished the sentence together, a smirk taking over both their faces.
“Ron decided that my bed was a good place to shag his girlfriend.” Harry shot the couple a look. “Even though his bed was only a couple meters away.”
“Shame on you, Ronald!” Fred shot Ron a disgusted look.
“Come on, Harry.” George slipped past Harry and his twin, shoved past Ron and Hermione, and grabbed Harry’s trunk. “Let’s get you set up somewhere more… suitable.”
The three started out of the room, but Ron grabbed Harry’s arm. “Hold on! You can’t switch rooms!”
“Says who?” Harry snapped at the twins’ younger brother. “Sirius left me everything. Which means I own Grimmauld Place. This is my house. I can sleep in any room I want to.”
Ron’s jaw dropped, and while he was stunned, Harry yanked his arm away.
Fred gently took Harry’s arm and led him from the room. “Where to, Harrykins?”
“I can’t take Sirius’s room.” Harry shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “It still feels like he’s coming home any minute. But, I never knew his brother. I’ll take his room. It’s been empty long enough.”
“Very well, our dear Harrykins.” George led the way to the top floor and opened the door to the room opposite Sirius’s. “Your new abode.”
Harry let out a bell-like laugh, then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. Apparently, even his laugh had changed with the inheritance. Noticing that the twins hadn’t reacted, he dropped his hands from his mouth, smiling.
“Thanks, guys.” He hugged them, then noticed an amazing scent coming from the pair. Shaking himself, he pulled out of the almost trance-like state and looked around. Silvery-grey walls with Slytherin paraphernalia, clippings of Voldemort’s attacks and movements in the first war, and photos everywhere.
“Kreacher!” Harry called for the obstinate House Elf.
“Halfblood Master calls for Kreacher?” With a loud pop, the ancient House Elf appeared, sneering at the pair of redheads. “What do Halfblood Master and blood traitor twins want with poor, old Kreacher?”
“That’s enough, Kreacher!” Harry snapped at the wizened old creature. “You will not call them that again!”
“Yes, Master.” The sneer remained on the withered servant’s face. “What does Halfblood Master want?”
“I’ll be sleeping in here from now on.” Harry gestured to the room. “Clean it out. Anything you think should be kept, put it in the attic. I defer to you on what should be kept.”
“Master lets Kreacher decide what is being kept?” Kreacher showed obvious shock at this fact. “Kreacher is allowed to keep Master Regulus’s things?”
The twins looked at Harry, shocked at how he was treating the ornery elf. The old, wrinkled elf was mean and vile-hearted towards everyone, yet Harry was being kind towards him. Seeing their shocked expressions, Harry laughed.
“Of course, Kreacher. You’ve served the Black family faithfully for many years. I trust your judgement on what should be kept. My one request is that anything referencing Voldemort, unless it’s a book, be thrown out or burned.”
“Master Harry is so kind!” Kreacher threw himself at Harry and hugged his legs. “Thank you, Master Harry!”
“It’s a reward for your dedicated service to House Black. Now, please clean up. And, when you’re done with this room, please make the rest of the house, and yourself, presentable in accordance with the status of House Black.”
“Yes, Master Harry!” The House Elf popped away, and when he reappeared, he looked much neater and was accompanied by several empty trunks. With a snap of his fingers, the elf sent most of the pictures, the Slytherin banners, and almost all of Regulus’s belongings flying into the trunks. The articles and pictures containing references to Voldemort appeared in a pile on the floor.
Kreacher popped away again, taking the trunks with him. When he returned, he gathered the pile of Voldemort-related articles and pictures in his arms. “Kreacher goes to burn the records of the Dark One’s movements from Master Regulus’s war. Kreacher will be back to clean the room for Master Harry. Master Harry should leave his trunk by the bed, so Kreacher can unpack Master Harry's things when Kreacher is finished cleaning.”
“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry smiled at the improved attitude - and appearance - of the old House Elf. “Remember, both you and the rest of the house needs to be presentable in accordance with the status of House Black, not just this room. When you’re done with this room, please continue with the rest of the house.”
“Yes, Master Harry!” The elf nodded excitedly. “Kreacher shall keep the house extra clean, now!”
“We’ll leave you to it, Kreacher.” Harry led the twins out of the room, and they went to hang out in the twins’ room. After a few hours of being holed up in their room, Kreacher popped in, appearing in front of Harry with his head bowed.
“Kreacher has done what Master Harry asked.” Kreacher raised his head, his ears perked up. “Master Harry’s room is clean, and Master Harry’s things are unpacked. Kreacher will now start on the rest of the house.”
“Well done, Kreacher.” Harry smiled at the time-worn servant. “Thank you. You do your job well.”
Harry left the twins in their room and went to go inspect his new room - or rooms, as he quickly discovered. Entering the main room, he saw three doors that must have been hidden behind tapestries. The main room no longer contained a bed, dresser, wardrobe, and desk, but was now home to a comfortable sitting area with plush armchairs and couches in light grey, and glossy, dark red, wooden tables. A fireplace took up a good part of the wall where the wardrobe had been, and a warm fire crackled merrily inside.
Exploring further, Harry opened the lone door on the wall to his right, and found the bedroom. Colours were much similar to the sitting area, with light grey fabrics and glossy, dark red woods. In a moment of childishness, Harry ran over and jumped onto the bed, bouncing a couple times before relaxing into the cloud-like softness. Sitting up, he grinned. He was now the owner of the softest bed he had ever touched.
Getting off the bed, Harry walked back into the main room, and opened the door directly across from the bedroom. Inside was a marble-tiled bathroom with a glass-front shower and a large, deep bath. A sink and a walled-off toilet were off the left side of the room. Rich red towels edged in silver carefully hung on the rails beside the bath, shower, and sink completed the room.
Stepping back into the sitting room, Harry opened the final door - his wardrobe. All his clothes were neatly organized. His jeans and t-shirts were carefully folded and placed in drawers, robes and button-up shirts hanging neatly on one side, his school clothes neatly hung on the other.
Once he stepped back through to the main room, he noticed the desk along the wall next to the bedroom door. Perfectly arranged on shelves hung above the desk, were all the books from his school trunk.
“This is absolutely fantastic!” In another moment of childishness, Harry spun around in circles, arms flung wide. He spun until he crashed into one of the sofas, where he fell down, giggling. “I can’t believe this is mine.”
The last month of summer holidays went quickly, and somehow, between avoiding Ron and Hermione making out every other foot, Ginny attempting to hit on him, and the twins’ pranks, Harry managed to finish his summer homework. He wasn’t sure how well he did, but it was done, and he had just finished packing to leave when there was a knock at the door. Moody, Tonks, Remus, and Kingsley had arrived.
Driving to Kings Cross had been more relaxing than the entire summer. Sitting in a Ministry-issued car with Remus, Tonks, and the twins was incredibly calming, and Harry soon nodded off on Fred’s shoulder.
George gently shook him awake when they reached Kings Cross and helped him out of the car. After reaching Platform 9¾, they quickly said their goodbyes, Harry embracing Remus in a long hug before boarding the train.
Harry, wanting to avoid Ron and Hermione, but not wanting to impose on the twins even more, quickly found an empty compartment and locked himself in, throwing up several different locking and silencing charms, as well as a few Notice-Me-Nots.
“Well, Potter…” A drawling voice came from behind Harry. “That’s one way to keep people away. Who are you hiding from? Surely not Granger and Weasley.”
“What would you know, Malfoy?” Harry whipped around, startled. He had seriously thought the compartment was empty.
“You just cast half of the known locking and silencing spells at the door, and then added several Notice-Me-Not charms.” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “You’re obviously hiding from someone . What happened?”
“Do you even care?”
“Considering the fact that you aren’t wearing your glasses, you either got those Muggle contact things, or you came into a creature inheritance, so yes, I do care. With the current political climate, us creatures have to stick together.”
“ You came into a creature inheritance?”
“Most purebloods have some form of creature in their family tree.” The platinum blonde sniffed, looking between Harry and the seat opposite himself. “Are you planning on standing there until we reach Hogwarts, or are you going to sit down?”
Embarrassed, Harry quickly sat down. Looking the Malfoy heir over, he noticed nothing different about him. “So what creature are you?”
“And that, Potter, is why you need to study etiquette.” Malfoy sighed. “First, why don’t we call a truce? That will make this much easier.”
“A truce?” Harry stuck out his hand. “Okay, Malfoy.”
The pale-haired boy shook his hand. “Call me Draco.”
“Only if you call me Harry.”
“Okay, Harry. First thing you need to know is that it’s very rude to ask someone to show you, or tell you, what creature they are. You can offer up the information, but you cannot ask them. As a show of friendship, I will give you several features, and give you three guesses as to what creature inheritance I came into. Ready?”
“I have fangs and acidic claws, wings and white scales. Can you guess?”
“You’re a submissive Dracken, too?”
“Yes, I-” Draco blinks several times. “Wait, you’re a submissive Dracken?”
“I’m pretty sure we just established that…”
“For both of us to come into a Dracken inheritance, and both be submissives… this is so odd!”
“Draco, will you please calm down? I would like to have at least one train ride without being yelled at.”
“Sorry… I just had a thought. If we’re friends now-”
“I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, Draco.”
“If we’re in a truce, how are we going to handle everyone pushing us to fight?”
“We’ll just let what happens, happen. Now please, may I have my peace and quiet?”
The rest of the ride to Hogwarts had been perfect bliss, once Draco shut up. No yelling from Ron, no nagging from Hermione, and no listening to the two of them argue or being forced to watch them make out.
Taking a seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Harry chose a seat down at the end, having no wish to sit near his friends. Ex-friends, he corrected himself. He got a few curious looks from his classmates but ignored them. It was none of their business.
The hall went quiet when Professor McGonagall brought out the sorting hat. The tattered old hat sang its song, and the new first years were sorted into their houses, the last student taking a seat at the Ravenclaw table. Afterwards, the headmaster made his usual announcements, including introducing the new DADA professor, Professor Robert Grey, before it was time to eat. Harry had to be extremely careful not to pile his plate solely with meat. He had been craving it more and more since his birthday. The bloodier the better. Once or twice he had even caught himself thinking how delicious it would taste to find something fresh to sink his teeth into. The thought made him shudder, but not with disgust.
As he was about to take a bite of chicken, he was suddenly aware of a pair of eyes drilling into him. Looking around for the source, he found no one until he glanced up at the head table. It was Snape. The Potions professor’s black eyes bore into him. Harry could not discern what that look was. He felt naked, as if the man had stripped him bare for all the world to see. He was sure those deep, dark eyes could peer into his very soul.
Harry met his eyes for a moment, but quickly lowered them. Glancing cautiously at the man from beneath his lashes, he saw as Snape's eyes suddenly widened, then narrowed.
He knows. Merlin. He knows what I am.
Harry looked away from the man and kept his head down for the rest of dinner. His body was tingling, as if his scales were trying to make an appearance. He pushed the feeling back ruthlessly. There was no way he could afford to let them appear, especially not in front of the entire student body. It would only spell disaster, and not only for him.
Dessert came and went, and the headmaster sent the students off to bed. Harry waited till the crush to leave the hall had died down a bit before heading up to Gryffindor tower. Once he entered his room he stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed. Despite being worried that Snape knew his secret, he fell asleep almost instantly.
It was two weeks into term and while Draco was now mostly tolerable, Snape was driving him crazy! The man was constantly staring at him whenever they were in the same room. No one else had noticed, so far, but Harry couldn't help but notice. The man was unshakeable. No matter how much he tried to act invisible or divert the professor’s attention, those eyes were always there, watching.
And yet, oddly enough, this did not worry him. In fact, it made him feel all sorts of things he never thought he'd be feeling about his Potions professor. It made him feel anxious, safe, comforted, wary, and a bit turned on. There was something about those eyes...
Harry knew that there was one very probable answer as to why Snape was watching him like this, but he just couldn't make himself believe it was true. There was no way Snape could be a Dracken as well. Right?
It was Halloween night, and Harry had no interest in attending the feast. Instead, he decided to sneak outside to the forbidden forest. The moon, though not quite full was bright tonight and lit the way for the young dracken. Not that he needed the light. As a Dracken, he had excellent night vision.
After walking steadily for over thirty minutes Harry called his Dracken features forward. It had been so long since he'd been able to and now he finally could do so. Hair, scales, wings, claws, and fangs all made their appearance. The white scales glowed dimly in the moonlight. It was a beautiful sight to see.
Now that that was taken care of there was something else he'd been wanting to do.
Opening his unnaturally-enhanced senses wide, he listened for any movement. He could hear squirrels in their nests, owls hunting for their breakfasts, rabbits nibbling on clovers, mice scurrying along in the underbrush and then he heard what he'd been searching for: hoofbeats on the leaf-strewn forest floor.
About thirty yards ahead were four deer. In an instant, Harry dashed with lightning speed and sank his fangs into the jugular of a small doe about two years old. In the next moment, the other three deer bounded off into the forest. The doe kicked in an effort to free itself, and he swiftly broke the beast's neck.
The taste of blood was intoxicating and Harry could hardly keep himself from moaning aloud. Using his claws, he tore off a chunk of the still-warm flesh and devoured it. The taste was heavenly. He crouched down and dug in, tearing away at the hide with his fangs and claws.
Halfway through his meal, he stilled. He cocked his head, listening. There was something out there. His head snapped to the left and he growled. The growl that answered was a deep rumbling growl that shook the earth itself. Harry shrank back. As the figure stepped out from behind some trees, he realised that it was another Dracken, but not a submissive like himself or Draco.
The first thing he noticed about the unknown Dracken were his wings. With a wingspan at least twenty feet in length, they dwarfed his own, which he pulled tighter to his body in an effort to hide. Next was the man himself. He was tall, about 6'4 or so and heavily muscled. The gleaming scales, midnight blue and dark amethyst in colour, were scattered over the man's ivory skin. His hair was as black as onyx and fell halfway down his back. His face was smooth and strong. His silver eyes were cold and hard and filled with lust.
He took Harry’s breath away. One heartbeat passed, two…
Harry took in a breath, and the Dominant made his move.