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The bluebells grew thick and plentiful this year. They crowded along the lake's banks, spreading in a grand tapestry of blues and purples. Some clusters were so dense they overflowed into the water, so that the lake appeared wreathed in a crown of flowers that both bent down and peeked from beneath the surface in a mirror image.
Severus hummed to himself as he gathered what he needed. Fresh bluebells could be used in a large number of potions, both as a staple and as a replacement for other ingredients. He liked to have several bushels at hand, and he liked even more knowing exactly where the flowers came from. Most potioneers sourced their bluebells from Diagon Alley. But most potioneers were not Severus Snape.
He cut another three flowers and added them into his basket. Eyeing it, he deemed himself satisfied. He got up, winced when his knees creaked, and stretched. Now for the long walk back to Hogwarts. Or perhaps he could cheat and fly, but that carried risks… should anyone spot him… Perhaps he could risk one short flight. It was the end of July and the school was blessedly empty. Hagrid was on vacation to France, Filch had gone to his annual knitters' retreat, and the centaurs only ventured on this side of the forest at dawn and sunset.
Yes, Severus thought. A little flight, skimming the tree tops, and I'll land in the southern courtyard.
He prepared himself, gathering his magic, focusing...
Then a dragon crashed in the lake.
It came as a shadow first, swooping over Severus, blotting out the sun, and then it was a cannonball into placid waters, splashing head first and with tremendous force. A frigid wave assaulted Severus, drenching him from head to toes. He spluttered. Clutching the basket to his side—now empty, curses!—he flexed his wrist and his wand dropped into his palm. The tip took aim at the center of the lake, where one second later the dragon resurfaced.
While a small part of Severus' brain was preoccupied with the why (why was a dragon here, why had it decided to go for a swim, why hadn't there been any warnings of a wild dragon around Scotland?), the larger part went through various tactics and contingency plans, calculating his escape route and his survival rate. He was moderately optimistic if he fought with his wand, and much more confident should he use his trump card.
Severus readied himself. He would have to dodge a blast of fire, or shy away from vicious claws, or shield against an incoming row of teeth—whatever would come would be deadly.
Except the dragon didn't attack.
It sneezed, shook its head, and stared at Severus. Its eyes were the exact color of the lake, two large pools in their own right. Two horns curled over its massive head, and Severus could see hints of its massive body under the surface. The waters rippled as the dragon began to swim toward the shore. Severus took a few steps back, debating his next actions. Shooting a curse at the beast seemed premature at this stage; there was no sense in attacking it when it showed no hostility.
The dragon emerged from the lake and shook itself like a dog, flinging more water at Severus. Tilting its head, it considered him with those big aquamarine eyes. A rumble issued from its throat, tinted with curiosity. Not a lick of aggressiveness. Its body stood powerful and well-proportioned, the scales a flat black that flashed iridescent green whenever the beast moved. Large wings folded over its back, and it had a long tail ending in a wicked double spike.
It was, if Severus wasn't mistaken, a Snapping Tempest.
The breed had been named so for their fondness of storms. They loved to fly when lightning tore up the sky, playing between strikes, defying the weather. They were not native to the British Isles, or indeed even to Europe. Where did this one come from? Severus doubted the dragon had flown all the way from Australia to Scotland.
"You shouldn't be here."
The dragon cocked its head to the side. It didn't seem particularly impressed by Severus' deduction. Not that he could understand it, anyway. The average dragon was about as intelligent as a dog. They could learn a few words, and they could be taught tricks, but they would not win any Nobel Prize. Besides, most of them behaved like cats and did whatever they damn well pleased, which in general involved eating livestock and terrorizing the local fauna along with the occasional Muggle.
So when Severus met those large blue eyes and saw a human intelligence sparking in their depths, he knew that was no ordinary dragon. That, combined with the storm theme, and the fact that the beast had come to bother Severus on a perfectly normal day, disturbing his well-earned peace, led him to a conclusion.
A detestable one.
"Potter?" he said, dearly hoping he was wrong.
"Nrrff," said the dragon.
He stalked forward to bump Severus' chest with his snout. Severus closed his eyes. It wasn't advisable when one was facing a dragon, but he needed that brief moment of darkness to ground himself. He opened his eyes again. Potter was still there. Still a dragon.
"What have you done, you stupid—"
He cut himself off before more words could escape. It wasn't a good idea to insult Potter to his face when the boy—the impulsive, wonderful, terrible boy— was currently a six-hundred pounds beast equipped with about ten different ways to turn Severus into paste.
He crossed his arms. The basket tumbled to the ground. His wand remained in his grip, though he knew Potter would not attack him.
"A Snapping Tempest. Are you pleased with yourself?"
"Rrrfff."
The vocalization rumbled through Severus' bones. Potter's snout was still pressed against his chest.
"And on your birthday, my, my. Attempting an Animagus transformation alone, did we? Well, you've succeeded, and you've annoyed me. My congratulations. Now kindly depart before I make you."
Those big blue eyes blinked at him. Severus tapped his foot.
"Depart or change back, Potter, but cease wasting my time."
Potter did not move, nor did he change back. He stared at Severus, nostrils flaring with each breath. It began to slowly dawn on Severus what the problem might be.
"Picture yourself human again."
Potter blinked again.
"Are you in possession of your full mental faculties?" Severus said while his heart did something he did not want to examine too closely.
"Rrrffnnn."
Severus cursed.
The first Animagus transformation carried substantial risks. When the wizard's mind made contact with the animal spirit and the body changed, the wizard could get lost, submerged under the animal's instincts. Some never resurfaced. One unfortunate wizard often used as a cautionary tale had lived out the rest of his life as a sheep.
It that had happened to Potter...
But he seemed more in control than expected. As a dragon, he should have been feral, territorial, and hostile towards humans. That he had come to Hogwarts suggested some manner of willpower, as did the fact that he had not yet tried to eat Severus.
"You just had to come here, didn't you? You couldn't have gone to the Burrow?"
Potter breathed out noisily again.
"Very well. Let us walk to the castle."
Potter did seem to understand that. He followed Severus on foot, thought he did not do so stealthily or logically. He ran ahead like an overjoyed dog, trampling through the undergrowth, then doubled back to cross Severus' path before plunging into the bushes again. At one point his tail clipped a young sapling, severing the trunk neatly. He didn't even seem to notice.
By the time they reached the castle, Severus had a plan.
It fell apart the moment he attempted to step inside. Something tugged on his cloak, hard. He turned and found Potter with his gigantic maw full of black fabric. Severus tugged back. Potter tugged, harder, and then Severus lost his balance and ended up on his arse.
"Potter!"
The damnable boy huffed.
With as much dignity as he could muster, Severus got up and tried to enter the castle again. But Potter did not want him to. He seized his cloak again. He blocked the access with his body. He pushed Severus with his tail. He growled, and huffed, and looked at Severus intently all the while, communicating that he couldn't enter the castle.
"I need to go in my office if we are to solve this," Severus told him.
But as usual, Potter wouldn't listen.
"You leave me no choice," Severus said.
And he Apparated to his office.
Having used his Headmaster's privilege to win against a dragon, he selected a book from the shelves and had a quick read-through. Indeed, it was as he remembered from his first reading years ago. The mindlock would either resolve itself on its own or last a lifetime. There was no way to tell which way it would go, but each day—each hour—the boy spent as a dragon, the more his possibility of breaking free diminished. After a month, Hunderborth wrote, one should consider the wizard lost forever.
Severus refused to consider Potter lost, even for a second.
Options. Options, options… He could contact the Ministry and ask for help. They would mobilize whatever Unspeakables studied Animagus magic, and perhaps they would be useful. Or perhaps the Ministry would declare Potter a threat. An uncontrolled Animagus transformation, and into a dragon… they would cage him. Kingsley would leave Potter a chance, Severus knew, but he also knew Kingsley would not be the only deciding voice in such a delicate matter.
Severus could not take the risk.
He could not bear to see Potter in a cage, not after everything he'd done so the boy would survive.
So he could be happy.
Another option was to—
A shudder shook the castle. Severus got to his feet in a flash, wand out. Another shudder rattled his desk and sent a few of his books tumbling off the shelf. It felt like someone was taking a battering ram to the castle—and it stirred up terrible memories, memories of blood and death, of Hogwarts under attack, her wards failing.
But the castle didn't feel as it had then. As Headmaster, Severus had felt keenly every stab of Voldemort's wand against the wards, every brutal strike to bring them down, and the castle had screamed at him, urging him to defend it. It wasn't screaming at the moment. It felt… amused? Entertained by whatever was causing those shudders.
Severus had a feeling he knew what it was.
He left his office, went down the stairs, passed by the Great Hall to reach the double doors that lead outside, and—
—found the head of a dragon partially jammed through there.
Potter's eyes lit up when he spotted Severus. He emitted a loud snort and pushed harder against the doors. The castle thrilled with laughter.
Severus facepalmed.
"I was finding a solution," he told the boy. "Trying to save you yet again! Could you not wait for five minutes without causing a catastrophe?"
Potter whined, as much as dragons could whine. Severus translated that as I missed you, which was ridiculous because, 1) he had only been gone for five minutes, 2) Potter had not missed him for the past two years, had he?, and 3) why was his heart behaving erratically again?
Severus stepped outside. Potter huffed and rubbed his snout all over his clothes, getting his horns uncomfortably close to Severus' face in the process.
"Stop this, you loathsome beast."
"Frrrrnnn."
Severus cast a cleaning charm on himself, then sat on a bench in the courtyard. Potter dropped fully to the ground and rolled over, great tongue lolling out. Severus was rather sure no Snapping Tempest had ever looked this goofy.
"We shall not involve the Ministry. I do not trust them to handle you, nor do I think you would want me to involve them. They would make a mess of things as usual."
Why he was explaining himself to Potter when the boy couldn't understand a single word he was saying, Severus had no clue.
"I was thinking of calling your friends. Any objections?"
None came. Potter was lazily stretching, his tail twitching from time to time.
"Excellent," Severus said, and he cast his Patronus.
The doe bounded away on a trail of silver light. She carried a simple message.Potter is in trouble, please come at once. He was confident they would react quickly. The please would convince them it was serious, as would the very fact that the boy had come to him.
And indeed, five minutes later, he felt a tug at the outer wards. Two people passed through the gates, and then two figures appeared up the path. Severus rose to meet them.
To their credit, Weasley and Granger showed no panic at the sight of a full-grown dragon lounging in the courtyard. Weasley gawked, while Granger winced.
"Oh, Harry," she said softly.
Potter remained where he was, and yawned.
"He's not dangerous," Severus said, though it seemed his friends already knew. "He's acting more like a giant clingy dog than a dragon."
"I told him not to try it alone," Granger said, shaking her head, and then louder, "Didn't I tell you, Harry James Potter? Not alone! Or things might go wrong! You'd think he would have learned to listen to me after ten years ofI-told-you-so..."
Severus was glad he'd called Potter's friends. Granger's voice was delightfully cutting, and oh what a pleasure it was to see someone other than him berating the boy. Although…
"I must apologize," he said. "I wasn't aware of your… condition."
"Oh no, I'm only in my seventh month," Granger replied, placing a hand on her enormous belly. "Twins, you know. So Apparition is still safe for another month at least."
"My congratulations."
"Thank you," Granger beamed.
A shadow fell over Severus. Potter emitted a rumble and slunk around him to circle his friends. He sort of waddled as he did, ungraceful on the ground.
"Blimey, you're big," Weasley said.
"Harry, have you tried imagining your human self? Picture it in your mind."
"What, he's stuck? That's the emergency?"
"Unfortunately," Severus said.
Potter showed his flank to Weasley and dropped to the ground. He lazily flapped one wing, which stirred up a gust of wind at their level.
"He doesn't seem bothered by it," Weasley commented. "Can he understand us? Is he… he's not gonna stay a dragon forever, right?"
"No," Severus and Granger said at the same time.
"Love that double no. Yeah, you'll find a solution."
Weasley went to poke at Potter, and soon they were grappling, playing around like nothing was wrong. How typically Gryffindor. My best friend is suddenly a dragon, I better go wrestle with him. At least Potter was careful with Weasley.
"Honestly…" Granger said, looking at the tussling pair with fond exasperation.
They sat on a bench Severus conjured, and they talked. Granger agreed that keeping the Ministry in the dark was the right choice. They discussed their options, and found them rather slim. Potter could not be moved. Not in secret. The boy already drew the eye in his normal state, but as a dragon, he would be impossible to smuggle anywhere. He would have to stay at Hogwarts.
And Severus would have to stay with Potter.
"Surely there are other choices," Severus said when he realized the conversation led to that conclusion. "Better choices."
"Harry came to you because he feels safe with you."
"He came to Hogwarts," Severus replied stiffly. "Not to me."
Granger made a face that said she disagreed.
"He likes you, sir. He'd be furious with me for telling you this, but he truly admires you. He's your most ardent defender."
Severus said nothing. This was the safest choice. If he opened his mouth, he would either tell Granger she was talking nonsense (terrible option, would reveal too much of his thoughts), say he didn't need anyone to defend him (but his voice would crack, wouldn't it?), or reply that he didn't care if Potter liked him (one lie that might prove too much, even for him, liar extraordinaire).
Granger smiled, knowingly.
A clatter came from the side of Hagrid's hut. Potter had found the pumpkins and was happily playing among them.
"Nothing," Weasley said as he joined them. "He's like—well, you said it, Snape. A big, happy dog. If Harry's in there, he's not interested in coming out. And I tried to draw him out, I did, but—"
"It will take time," Granger said. "The average length of a mindlock is a week, and it trends longer the younger the wizard is. I researched the matter the moment Harry mentioned wanting to become an Animagus," she added in response to Severus' look. "Everything always goes wrong for him, I figured this could happen."
"And there's really no spell to fix it?" Weasley said. "No forbidden ritual? I'd totally do it for Harry, dark magic or whatever… True Love's Kiss?"
Why was he looking at Severus while putting forward that last option?
"Nothing," Granger said. "But he'll come back to us, I know it. And he'll be fine here. He's home, and he's with a…" She paused, considering Severus. "...friend?"
Certainly not.
"A minder," Severus said. "An unhappy, coerced minder."
Granger and Weasley departed as evening arrived. They would come back tomorrow to check on Potter, via the Floo this time. Severus was confronted with two new problems. The first was dinner. Potter would not allow him to go back into the castle. When Severus cheated by Apparating again, the most terrible howl pierced his ears. It was as if an entire hoard of wolves were mourning someone's death, broadcasting their desperation for all to hear. Severus quickly Apparated back to Potter and hit him with a Silencing charm, praying no one in Hogsmeade would come round to investigate. Then he had a house elf bring him his dinner.
The second problem was going to bed. He could not leave Potter alone, and a dragon would not fit into the castle (not that Severus would have let the boy into his bedroom anyway). So a compromise was found, and Severus commandeered Hagrid's hut as his temporary lair. As long as Potter could see him, he seemed content, and so periodically a dragon's eye would peek through the window to make sure Severus was still in there.
Ridiculous.
This was all ridiculous, and Severus didn't even know when this would end!
Average of a week, Granger had said. But Potter had never been average. And he would never be. The boy was a creature of impossibilities, flitting at the edges of reality where the rest of them lived, darting in to dazzle them all with his halo, disappearing the next second, never to be caught, never to be contained. And Severus… Severus basked in each sighting.
He would never admit it, of course. Even to himself, it had been difficult. It had taken months away from the boy, and occasional, too brief meetings during Ministry galas or chance encounters in Diagon Alley for him to realize that he looked forward to existing in the same space as Potter, and that he missed the wretched boy the moment he went away.
Turning over in the (very large) bed, Severus sighed. His gaze went reflexively to the window. One dragon eye occupied its entirety, black pupil surrounded by an ocean of blue. He held Potter's gaze for a moment. Did the boy intend to watch him sleep? Severus would have objected if Potter had been in his right mind (or maybe not, though it was best not to examine that thought too closely).
Eventually, he slept.
He woke grumpy and irritated. Hagrid's bed was too soft, and he'd sunken into the mattress like it was butter. He emerged from the downy prison, stepped outside, and was promptly assaulted by a dragon.
"Potter!" he roared, now flat on his back, and pinned beneath the foolish boy.
Potter huffed and rubbed his snout all over him. Severus suffered the indignation with the barest thread of patience. Did the boy know what he was doing? What it meant? Or were the dragon's instincts fully in control, with no input from Potter at all?
"Rrrruf," Potter said, finally leaning back.
Severus got up and glared. This has never worked on Potter, and it especially did not work here, as the boy blissfully ignored any sign of his anger.
The day was a disaster. As Headmaster, Severus had a lot of things to do, even during summer. All those things required for him to be inside the castle, which was currently not possible. He had a house elf bring him his paperwork, but the wind kept blowing everything away, when it wasn't Potter as he brazenly flapped about. Then he went back to the lake to get a basketfull of bluebells, which he could not properly process without his equipment. He had to ask a house elf so the flowers could be stored in his office, awaiting dragon-free days to be prepared (the elves were not fazed by the dragon and called him 'Master Harry' even before Severus explained the situation). He ate lunch outside. Granger and Weasley came by again, for more conversation and no new solutions.
Then Minerva stopped by for tea.
Severus hosted her in Hagrid's hut, while the door was open, a dragon's snout halfway wedged inside. Potter had greeted Minerva with a low vocalization and a little dip of the head.
"I was hoping Harry would be done with his unfortunate habit of getting himself into troublesome situations, but I see it is something that shall follow him for life," she remarked, lips quirked.
"That would be perfectly fine with me if he didn't keep dragging me in along with him."
She arched an eyebrow, letting him know she wasn't fooled. Alright, that had been unfair on his part. It wasn't always Potter's fault when trouble struck Severus. And truthfully, it was Severus who had dealt the first blow. Who had set the entire calamitous machine in motion when he had knelt before the Dark Lord and opened his stupid, stupid mouth.
...a boy, my Lord… a boy born at the end of July… the one with the power to vanquish you...
"I'm concerned on how we'll keep this particular secret," Minerva said. "It isn't as if we can throw the Invisibility Cloak on top of him and call it a day. Someone is bound to spot him eventually… Have you had to Obliviate anyone yet?"
"No. He's been remarkably well-behaved on that point so far, hasn't tried to fly away or go gallivanting near Hogsmeade. He's sticking by my side."
Minerva looked far too pleased about that.
"I shall let you get back to it," she said at length. She patted Potter's head as she left the hut. "Take care of him, Harry."
"Rrrff."
Take care of—he was the one taking care of Potter here!
"Take care of me?" he said, staring at the dragon.
Potter bumped his chest with his snout. Severus stood still. He would not give in. He would not react. He was not supposed to know what this meant, and Potter could never learn he did know.
"Well, Potter, students will be here by September 1st. You have a month to change back to human."
*
A week went by.
Potter remained a dragon.
*
Two weeks into August, Severus conducted interviews with candidates for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had struggled to find applicants since the man hired the previous year had stumbled in the stairways at the end of June and now lay at St Mungo's in a coma. He was expected to recover, but the accident had ignited talks about the Dark Lord's curse again, and fear was a powerful deterrent.
Though the Dark Lord was dead and his curse on the post gone with him, Severus had only received a handful of applications. He had scheduled three interviews with the only three people who had the required amount of skills. He would not be hiring another Lockhart.
The first on the list was one Edward Fletcher, a Ravenclaw who Severus had taught a few years back (ten to be precise, god, how time flew). Severus had owled ahead to warn him the interview would be conducted outside, on account of the pleasant weather and Severus' desire to test the applicants' skills in real time through a duel (convenient excuses for his dragon problem).
Five minutes before ten, the wards chimed in his head, alerting him to an incoming presence.
"Be on your best behavior," he told Potter. "No glaring, and absolutely no growling."
Potter snorted, as if to say You always expect the worst of me.
"Stay hidden until I introduce you."
Potter obediently went to hide behind the largest fountain in the courtyard. Severus wondered, not for the first time, how much the boy understood. Sometimes it seemed he was merely a dragon, and at other times, his reasoning capacities appeared human.
Fletcher arrived on time. They shook hands, and Severus invited him to sit on the nearest bench.
"Thank you for being here, Mister Fletcher. Before we begin, I must warn you my assistant will also be present for this interview. Now, don't be alarmed, everything is under control."
Potter emerged from behind the fountain. Fletcher's reaction was instantaneous. He shot to his feet and aimed his wand at Potter, panic contorting his face.
"What—Snape, there's a dragon—why is there a dragon—"
"As I said, he's my assistant."
Fletcher let out a ragged, slightly unhinged laugh.
"Your—oh, I see. This is a test. An illusion? You wish to see how we will react to an unexpected threat."
"No. He's very real."
Potter flapped his wings, sending out a ripple of dust in their direction. Fletcher's face went white. His wand snapped into an attack position. Severus positioned himself into the path of whatever spell would come, his own wand ready to counter. Dragons were sturdy, and it would took more than a single wizard to bring one down, or even truly hurt one, so Potter was not in any meaningful danger, but Severus couldn't watch someone draw their wand on him and do nothing.
He simply couldn't.
Somewhere inside him, a commandment lived, a promise, a vocation, and it said I shall protect Harry Potter. It knew no exceptions, and it knew no end. Severus suspected that in two hundred years, should they dig up his corpse, they would find it engraved in his bones still.
"He's a Snapping Tempest," he said, speaking softly. "And very friendly."
"I don't care what he is! Dragons can't be tamed! None of the Class V beasts can, you know this as well as I do!"
"And he's an Animagus."
Severus was reluctant to say more, and definitely would not tell Fletcher it was Potter, but it seemed more information was needed for Fletcher to calm down. His word wasn't enough. (When had it ever been?)
"Why is he still a dragon then?" Fletcher said, frowning. "Wait… he's in a mindlock? That's the same as a real dragon! What on earth is he doing here? He should be in a cage!"
Severus contained himself, though the very suggestion of Potter in a cage had his fingers flexing around his wand.
"As I've already said, everything is under control."
"The fuck it is."
"I take it you won't proceed with the interview."
"I'm leaving. So should you, Headmaster, before that beast eats you. You won't be able to say I didn't warn you!"
He turned away, muttering about dragons and arrogant fools. Severus hit him with an Obliviate to the back before he was out of range. Fletcher would have no memories of meeting a dragon.
"Rrrruuufff," Potter said.
"I never liked him anyway."
The second applicant was one Archibald Dunrick, an older gentleman in his eighties. It wasn't that old for a wizard, more middle-age, really. He sported a long white beard and dressed like Dumbledore if Dumbledore had been into hard metal rock. The overall effect was very confusing, but Severus would take any candidate at this point (and the man did have an impressive résumé).
Severus shook his hand.
Then Dunrick saw Potter—and fainted.
After Severus revived him (and hit him with an Obliviate as well), he conducted the interview while Potter hid behind the fountain. Dunrick had good technical knowledge, but his teaching methods were severely outdated, and Severus doubted he would be able to handle a classroom of seventh-years Gryffindors, or a gaggle of anxious, danger-seeking little first-years.
"All our hope rests on the final candidate," he told Potter after Dunrick had left.
Potter emitted a rumble.
"Good job on staying hidden, by the way."
Potter snorted and rubbed his big head against Severus' flank. Then he stayed there, so that Severus' hand rested against his scales, as if he were petting him.
"You are pushing my limits," Severus said.
Potter made a sound that was definitely a dragon laugh, as if to say he knew exactly where Severus' limits were and that they were nowhere near them. And he was right, damn it.
The arrival of the third applicant saved Severus from having to come up with an escape route.
"To the fountain," he told Potter, and the boy obeyed.
A woman appeared in the distance. She stood under five foot, and her brown skin offered a stark contrast against her white hair and white robes. She was only twenty-one, but then again that was the exact age Severus had been when he'd started teaching. A Hufflepuff, decent in Potions, excellent in Defense, and pretty much unremarkable otherwise. She had never been considered for prefect or Head Girl, nor did Severus recall ever catching her roaming out of bed or getting into mischief. Asked to name his students from that year, she would have come up in the last quarter.
He pondered the subtle difference in the wards' reaction. For Fletcher and Dunrick, the castle had warned him mechanically, like a letter going through the mail slot. But for her, the castle hand-delivered that letter, and did so with a smile.
Whoever Salma Farooq had been, whoever she had become since graduating, Hogwarts liked her.
"Miss Farooq, a pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise, Professor. I mean, Headmaster."
He told her what he'd told Fletcher, and added that she would be perfectly safe.
"Course I will be," she said. "You're here, sir."
Blatant flattery would not get her the post, but Severus would be lying if he had said he wasn't affected. He had failed to protect his students during the war. Never again.
With a purring rumble, Potter showed himself.
"A Snapping Tempest!" Farooq exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "I've never seen one up close… never seen one, period. They didn't have any at the reserve… I, uh, had a dragon phase," she added in answer to Severus' inquisitive look. "Some Muggle kids get really into dinosaurs, I was super into dragons. Knew all the breeds. Snapping Tempests are one of the coolest..."
Potter puffed up his chest.
"But what's he doing here? If that's a practical test for the interview, I'm sorry, but that'll be a no. I'm not fighting a dragon. I'm no Harry Potter."
And now the wretched boy emitted an amused snort. Oh, he was just enjoying this, wasn't he?
"Not to worry. There will be no fighting. The dragon is merely the result of a particularly idiotic choice, and will be gone shortly. Certainly before any student arrive."
Farooq nodded, and just accepted Potter's presence with no further question.
Severus went on with the interview. He found her theoretical knowledge excellent, as expected, and her grasp of pedagogy solid. When they faced off in a quick duel, she did well, exhibiting quick reflexes and good form.
"Okay, what was that?" she said after he'd Disarmed her. "That little swirly thing you did with your wand hand? How did that even work?"
"Trade secret."
"Hmmph. Alright. Well, I didn't think I'd beat you, anyway…" She accepted her wand back and sheathed it. "When will you take your decision?"
"You're hired."
She beamed, thanked him, and then grinned at Potter.
"Seemed you were my good luck charm, Tempest!"
Severus' instinctive reaction was absurd, and entirely focused on that little pronoun. My. No, not yours, growled something inside him. You can't claim Potter, he is mine. Oh yes, entirely, patently absurd. The stress of living with an overbearing dragon was getting to him.
He walked the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to the edge of the grounds, made her promise she wouldn't reveal Hogwarts was currently home to a dragon, and watched her depart with relief. That was one problem down.
"Grrrffhh," Potter said, and nuzzled Severus' side.
"Will you stop doing that?"
Potter only nuzzled him harder.
*
Another week.
The end of August was fast approaching, and Potter remained annoyingly dragon-shaped. Severus was reaching the end of his patience (and Merlin knew he had an ample supply of it). He wanted to be able to enter the castle again. To sit at his desk in his office, to eat in the Great Hall, to shower! He had to use cleaning Charms, and while they did the job, he missed the incomparable feeling of a hot shower after a long day.
He had tried to reason with Potter and had found it even more impossible than when the boy was human. There was no getting anything through that thick dragon skull. Potter didn't care about what Severus wanted. Severus had to stay close and stay visible, and that was the only law Potter knew.
Granger found it concerning. She raised the possibility that Potter might be ill, or suffering from some specific dragon-related anxiety. Severus assured her the boy was not sick, and that he was acting perfectly rationally according to his stupid Potterish brain, but he would not, could not, explain in detail how he knew that, and so Granger was unconvinced.
She reached out to a dragon expert, and that was how, on a late August morning, Charlie Weasley arrived to examine Potter.
"Alright, and now flex your right wing for me? Yes, very good. Let's see your left flank… Deep breath. Good. Again? Very good…"
Weasley walked around Potter, inspecting him under various angles, asking him to perform various tasks. Potter complied, taking it all good-naturedly.
"...and open your maw… big and wide, that's it. Now stick out your tongue. No, I know it feels strange, but you can do it. Careful on the flame reflex, though. I don't want to end up roasted."
Potter stuck out his tongue with a muffled noise. Weasley cast a diagnostic spell on him, blue light washing down the dragon's throat. A string of runes and numbers streamed from the wand tip, and Weasley pondered them.
"Everything seems fine… you can close your maw. Well done, good boy."
There was a beat of silence.
"That came out by reflex," Weasley said, lifting a hand to rub at his nape. "Sorry, Harry. I always tell the dragons they're good boys and girls, and, well..."
Potter opened his maw again, tongue lolling out, apparently very amused by this slip of tongue. Then he went up to Severus to huff in his face and assault him with his snout again. The message was clear. Severus pretended with every cell in his body that he didn't understand it.
"He's healthy," Weasley said, nodding at Severus. "Good teeth, great muscle strength, excellent immune system. There's nothing wrong with him."
"I already knew that. It's Granger who worried."
In the distance, thunder rumbled. A storm blanketed the sky over the mountains, fast approaching.
"I'll tell Hermione the good news, then. And Harry, don't sweat it. You'll be back to your normal self in no time, yeah?"
Potter huffed and nuzzled Severus' face, the scales cold against his skin.
Weasley smiled.
"Dragons only do the huff and scent thing with their mates… but I'm sure you knew that."
On those words, he turned and left.
The silence that followed was very different from the one that had followed the 'good boy' comment—denser, deadlier. Severus breathed slowly lest its edge caught on his throat. Potter nudged him, as if to say now you know, when Severus had of course known all along.
And now he had to confront it.
He took everything he felt for the boy and locked it away behind a steel wall. He would not allow it to interfere.
"I am not your mate."
He placed his palm on Potter's head. And shoved.
The boy let him. He acted as if Severus had enough strength to move a dragon, or possibly he was hurt enough (do not think about it!) that he recoiled. Then he emitted a soft rumbling noise and touched his snout to Severus' chest again.
Mate, he was saying. I am scenting you, marking you as mine. Mate.
"No. No! This is madness, Potter. We cannot be mates."
"Ruuufff?" Potter said, and Severus knew what it meant, knew the boy was asking why.
There were so many reasons. He picked one at random.
"I am old."
"Nnnrff." I don't care.
"I am ugly."
"Frrrnnn." No you're not.
"I can offer you nothing!"
"Ruuf-ruuuff." I'm content with just you.
Severus slowly brought a hand to his forehead and kneaded his temples.
"We would make each other miserable. Don't you see? This is yet another of your imbecilic ideas. You've fixated upon it, and it allowed it to drive your every move! This is why you're still a dragon, isn't it? Because the beast's instincts are telling you to claim me, and you're listening to them. This is pathetic, Potter. Come back to reality."
The dragon growled. The sound echoed the thunder overhead and vibrated into Severus' stomach, into his lungs, down to his bones. It left him indifferent, as did the fire in those piercing eyes. (No it didn't.)
"You think you know better?" he said, arching an eyebrow. "The great Harry Potter knows best, mmh? Do you really think you know me?"
Potter let out another rumble. Yes. I do.
The wind picked up. It sliced through the forest, howling past the trees, to slam into Severus from behind. Lighting flashed above head. Thunder followed nearly instantaneously. Potter leaned back, lifted a gigantic paw, extended one claw the size of Severus' entire hand, and set it against his chest. Over his heart.
You're afraid.
Terribly so. He had never been more afraid, and that included the time he'd stood before Voldemort to claim his allegiance once again after his resurrection, and the time he had been sure he would bleed out on the floor of the Shack. The fear had been debilitating then, but both times he would have welcomed death as a relief. There was no easy end here.
He would either rip his own heart out and walk away from Potter a hollow man, or take the plunge into the unknown. Both options froze him with dread.
Potter gave a slow blink. It's alright.
It wasn't. It emphatically was not alright! How could Potter be so calm when he was offering to turn both their worlds upside down? How could he be so sure?
"We cannot be mates," Severus whispered.
The stupid boy would not give up. We are. We can.
Severus went to place his palms on either side of the snout and ended up with his balled fists pressed there against the scales. He was trembling. The truth snagged in his throat like barbed wire and ripped out of him.
"I'm doing this for you! Because you deserve someone good, and that is not me! That could never be me!"
The storm broke. Rain poured down from the sky, lashing at his face, and in mere instants the whole of him was drenched. He let his tears fall then, because Potter would not see them. Still the boy persisted. His breath wafted over Severus in a wave of hot air. Certainty sparked in his eyes. Of course it's you. It's always been you. He pressed his snout harder against Severus' chest, huffed at him, and then stepped back. His wings flared open. He unfurled his long neck to look at the sky, flapped his wings, and shot up.
Headfirst into the storm.
Into danger.
Severus watched him go.
Walk away, said a voice inside him. He is no longer your concern, no longer your responsibility. Walk away.
Another voice rose to counter, and said, No, choose him. Be brave, take the leap, go, go, now.
And Severus Snape… Severus Snape was not a coward.
He gathered his magic, focused, and slipped into his second skin. His body shifted in an instant. He spread his wings as lightning struck the castle's highest tower. The flash would have blinded him if he'd been human, and the sound would have thudded through his flesh. But he was a dragon now, so he didn't flinch.
Potter was up there, being idiotic. Severus went after him.
The storm slammed into him. Winds met him like battering waves, surging left and right, hitting with such force he had to adjust his flight every second. Rain lashed sideways, slinging icy needles at his flanks. Lightning seared the air mere meters away, then again, closer. He persevered into the maelstrom, looking for Potter. Most dragons had poor eyesight, but Severus was not most dragons.
His scales were a lustrous black flecked with white at the edges, the tips of his wings a full, luminous white. He had a slender head, a sinuous body, and was slightly smaller than Potter. And of course, he had two pairs of wings, shaped like butterfly wings, streamlined, nearly invisible when folded, until he spread them and then they were a mosaic of shifting scales, designed to carry him even in the fiercest of winds. He was a Spitting Whirlwind—the only breed who could fly with a Snapping Tempest in the heart of a storm and hope to match him.
A roar echoed the thunder. Through the clouds, a shape moved, fast and powerful. Lightning tore up the space and illuminated the dragon a few meters above. Severus roared back. The dragon plunged toward him; Severus lunged upward.
They met in mid-air.
Stopped within inches of each other, both in stationary flight, both staring at each other. Potter's bright eyes roamed over Severus, a cold flame within. Another flash turned the world white and lit up iridescence along Potter's scales, as if fire had licked his flanks and left its mark. He emitted a high trill, goading Severus, then shot past him, flipped his body, and sailed up into the sky.
Severus went after him. He flew as fast as he could, as daring as he could, and though Potter could swerve faster and dive faster, in a pure climb, Severus won. He caught up to him and overtook him, his four wings carrying him past the boy in as rush. Severus emitted a triumphant trumpet. Potter snarled, and when Severus twisted back to look at the boy, to see his face, see the echo of his victory in those blue eyes, Potter opened his maw and a pulse of white fire stretched upward, the heat caressing Severus' face as the flames died inches from him.
You want to play? Let's play.
Severus replied with his own flames, bursting swirling blue out of his maw. Potter roared, and off he went, Severus zipping after him.
They danced in the storm, between the lightning, weaving trails of fire in their flight, wings beating in tandem. They danced, and Severus' heart soared. He'd chosen Potter. Despite the risks, despite the utter absurdity of the choice, he'd decided to say yes to the boy's offer, and he felt more alive than he had in months—in years.
Their flight brought them above the storm. They broke through the clouds and into blue sky, the sun blazing high above, the whole wide world below their wings. Severus pivoted, slowing down. Potter joined him, and they touched each other for the first time as dragons, their paws interlocking, snout to snout. An electrifying jolt came with the contact. They tangled their tails together and kept climbing, lazily, their efforts synchronized with ease.
Severus had realized halfway through what it was, but the dragon in him had known from the start.
A mating dance.
Potter was purring now, the deep rumble of his voice thrumming through Severus' body, the sound maddeningly enticing. Everything about Potter was. Maddening. Enticing. Irresistible. And Severus wanted.
Wanted Potter like he had never wanted anyone before.
He rumbled back, rubbing his snout against the boy's, lathering him in his scent. There. You're mine.
They climbed and climbed, bodies getting closer, back paws intertwining, chests pressing together, and if anyone could have seen them in this moment, they would have thought they were one strange beast, a singular organism, black-scaled, bewinged.
They tipped.
Banked left, and then sailed above the sea of clouds, the tempest far below. Severus was on his back, Potter stretched above him. His entire body throbbed with desire. The way the dragon experienced it war far more violent than in humans. It scoured his insides like lava, like the fire they had exchanged, and it demanded action.
The next step was the mating proper. Dragons mated in flight. Severus would present himself, Potter would thrust home, and it would not last very long. Severus had a better idea.
He Apparated them to the Room of Requirement.
It surprised the castle, and for a moment the Room was nothing but a vast white space, unformed and nebulous, before it snapped into a comfortable lounge with plush carpeted floor, about a hundred pillows, and a fire burning in the hearth. It also surprised Potter, who yelped (the dragon version of the sound, a deep, sort of choked-up noise) and flailed on top of Severus. They sprawled onto the floor, half on top of each other, their limbs entangled.
"Ruffff," Potter said.
And then he was human.
Small and puny, lying on Severus' chest where there would have been room for ten more of him. No. Not small, not puny. Potter occupied so much space, and so vibrantly, that he could only be larger than life. Set him next to a dragon, ask people to place their bets, and more than half would choose him. Severus certainly would.
He abandoned his dragon shape as well, and then they were both humans, limbs still entangled, faces inches from one another. Such green eyes Potter had. The green of spring, of a budding leaf shot through with sunlight, luminous beyond measure. Freckles kissed the bridge of his nose and spread in starbursts over his cheeks, while soft lips shaped a most tempting mouth.
Oh, and Potter was naked.
"Hello," the infuriating boy said.
"Potter," rasped Severus.
This seemed the most appropriate thing to say given the circumstances.
"How did you manage to keep your clothes? I was hoping you'd be naked too..."
"It takes control and practice."
"Right. You're so in control."
He very much was not. A naked Potter was already taking its toll on his psyche, especially in the wake of a mating dance, and then Potter rocked into him, rubbing his erection against Severus. His nerves frayed. Heat seared through his veins. He glanced down and peeked at Potter's cock. It had been formidable as a dragon, it was no less formidable as a man. Potter was thick, cock red and plump, the tip flushed purple. Oh sweet Merlin—
"Am I misreading the situation?" Potter said. "Tell me..."
"No."
"No I'm not misreading, or no you won't tell me?"
Severus fisted a hand in that unruly hair and brought that mouth upon his. Potter squeaked. Then growled. Then gripped Severus' hair and slipped a dominating tongue past his lips, making the kiss his. Desire hooked a brutal jab in Severus' midriff.
"Fuck," Potter snarled, half into his mouth. "Been wanting to do that forever—do you see now how good we are together, do you need more proof—fuck—"
Fuck indeed. All of Severus' words ended up on the brat's tongue, so to make himself understood he started undoing his frock coat. The first button popped open while Potter fiercely tongue-fucked his mouth, which was quite an achievement on Severus' part. The focus required far surpassed that had been needed to endure the Dark Lord's Legilimency. Severus wasn't sure he could keep going. Fortunately, Potter caught on quick, and his hands joined his. More buttons yielded.
"Would have been faster if you'd just shifted back naked, you know."
"Were you fully aware the entire time? Did you pretend to be mindlocked, making a fool of me?"
"No," Potter said, and winced. "Well, yes, sort of. But not at first! I was a dragon when I went to you, and then I saw you and I snapped back to myself. But I didn't want to shift back to human, because that'd mean I'd have to go away. I'd be away from you again. So I stayed a dragon, and I stayed with you."
Severus ought to be angry. Furious! The boy had lied to him for weeks! But anger was difficult to sustain when faced with such a confession. Severus tried anyway. Weeks!
"So you were completely in control while keeping me from entering the castle. Going into my office. Getting a shower."
Potter had the decency to look abashed.
"Okay, that was me, but that was also the dragon. We both knew you were our mate, and seeing you leave was devastating. Especially when you kept pushing us away! All you had to do was huff back, scent me back, and I would have been happy, but—"
He ripped open the rest of Severus' coat. Buttons scattered everywhere.
"—you didn't, and it drove me mad, Snape—because I could smell you were receptive—"
"Unlikely."
"No, I could. Snapping Tempests have better noses than Whirlwinds, so I knew, and I was waiting for you to say something and you didn't, and—" He dove onto Severus' throat and let out a soft growl as his teeth caught a sliver of skin. His hands slipped under Severus' shirt, roamed over bare skin. "And I was losing any shred of patience I had—"
"You never had any in the first place," Severus said.
It was sort of a miracle that he managed to utter a sentence at all given the state of his nervous system. Having Potter's hands on him was wrecking him.
"And you," the boy said, teeth slowly raking along Severus' throat, wrenching a delicious shudder from him. "You had a secret too. You knew exactly what it meant every time I scented you."
"I… I tried to do what was best for both of us."
"That's what's best," Potter said.
Severus' cock rabidly agreed.
Potter attacked his belt, yanked Severus' trousers down, and wrapped a firm hand around Severus' erection. He pumped him loosely, his palm slick with conjured lubricant. Severus swallowed back a grunt. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay silent. If he opened his mouth, if he started talking… he would beg for more and then everything would unravel, every thread of his control snapping because of Potter, and no, no, no, it would not happen...
"Your dragon form is so hot," Potter said. His tongue swiped over Severus' pulse point. "Especially your wings, god… I want to lick them… wanted to bite at your nape and mount you in mid-air…"
Descriptions of dragon sex should not have been arousing. Yet the fire under Severus' skin surged, and he bucked into Potter's hand with a low cry.
"That's so hot too… Snape…"
Potter shifted, and his cock slipped against Severus', a long messy slide.
"How long—mmm—how long have you been a secret Animagus?" the boy said.
"I will not answer under duress."
But he would—if this went on, Severus would in fact answer. He would blab out his entire weight worth of secrets for Potter, everything he had never revealed no matter what was done to him, pouring out of his mouth because Potter had his hand on his cock.
"Sorry, sorry. It's not an interrogation, I'm just curious, and so impressed that you kept it a secret. Does anyone know?"
"Only you."
This was true for so many things. Only Potter could break through Severus' façade, only Potter could make him want the unreasonable, only Potter could convince him to reach for it.
"You're amazing," Potter huffed, hand working faster on Severus' cock, cradling it while he thrust sloppily against him.
"Fuck me like this."
And only Potter could make him ask for this.
Eyes bright, Potter hurried to comply, shifting into position. His cockhead pressed against Severus' hole. Then he stopped, uncertainty in his gaze.
"I am ready," Severus hissed. "Fuck me, Potter."
Please.
And so Potter pushed into him, slow, controlled, and Severus emitted a mortifying noise of satisfaction as that thick cock spread him open. Potter, bless him for once, didn't stop until he was all in, until his balls pressed against Severus' arse. He exhaled, face slack with awe, looking like he couldn't believe it, like Severus had made a mistake by allowing him this close, inside him. With a sigh, Severus spread his legs further.
Please.
Potter withdrew carefully, then plunged back in. Skin met skin in a lewd slap. He drove into Severus in rocking strokes, and he was trying to go slow, Severus could tell, but he was also failing, which meant every thrust came harder, deeper, and better. Severus did not want slow. He wanted Potter to ruin his arse.
Arching his back, he met Potter's next inward surge with a motion of his own. The boy gasped, and took the hint. His hips smacked into Severus', and then again, and again, as they both groaned. Pleasure shot through Severus like lightning. Potter fell on him, wild hair brushing Severus' cheeks, lips tracing his racing pulse. He sought out Severus' hands and grasped them, their fingers interlacing as they moved against each other.
Every thrust came with lewd, wet sounds, Severus' arse clung to Potter's cock, his rim fluttering around the rigid length, his back was getting carpet burns as Potter's thrusts jolted him, smoldering heat eating at his nerves, and this was not going to last—not any longer than if they'd done it as dragons—and yet he couldn't find it wrong or embarrassing, not when Potter was making those noises against his throat, not when the boy was inside him, reaming his arse, providing slick friction on his cock, making him feel, making him want, and giving—
"Fuck, Snape—Snape, you feel—"
—giving him everything.
"Please, more, Harry, more..."
A hot tongue swiped at this throat, followed by the sting of a bite. Potter snapped his hips. He grasped Severus' hands harder, nails sinking into the skin, and Severus moaned, utterly enraptured. Lightning struck again, plunging inside him, electrifying nerves, whipping through him in the most blissful manner. Then thunder, a quake of sensation bursting, and Severus broke. His body strained, arse spasming around the thick cock plundering it, mouth opening on a ragged cry. His cock spurted between them, spilling wet and messy in long pulses.
Potter growled his name. His hips jerked, and he shot hot come into Severus, cock twitching with each spurt. He bit harder upon Severus' throat, and there would be a mark, and Severus didn't care. Perhaps he even welcomed it.
Then it was over. Both of them lay panting on the floor, looking at each other. Severus felt the castle's reaction—something like a friend smiling and shaking their head, mouthing Finally! He decided he would not tell anybody about this.
"Oh no," Potter whispered, tracing the hollow of Severus' throat with his thumb. "I—I bit you."
"I did not dislike it," Severus said, which was code for I'll let you do it again.
The boy's eyes went wide. Then he smiled, just as wide, and he cupped Severus' cheek.
"...and the rest? Did you like it too?"
Severus nearly rolled his eyes.
"No, Potter, I always scream in ecstasy to indicate my displeasure."
The boy laughed and kissed him.
"See, becoming an Animagus was a great decision," he said as he mauled Severus' lips. "Led to this. So worth it."
"Indeed," Severus said, and gave up on scolding the brat for a mistake that had resulted in the best possible thing in his life—Potter in his arms, and a future where he was loved.