The Dragons of Raveana

A Sandtongue Dragon

Harry pounded up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, his cloak hanging loosely around his shoulders. His eyes were wide as he tossed a look over his shoulder, searching the shadows for the snarling form of a dragon. Panting, he halted in front of the Fat Lady and leaned one hand against the ornate frame. The portrait mumbled in her sleep, shifting on the chair she sat in. Rolling his eyes, Harry rapped hard on the edge of the frame, grimacing when the Fat Lady bolted upright in her chair with a surprised snort.

"Phoenix Rising." He croaked, shaking his hands anxiously at his sides and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sighing with relief as the portrait swung open, he clambered into the Common Room and dashed for the stairs leading to his dorm.

The Tower was silent as he quietly crept down the short hall into the room he shared with the other sixth year boys. Biting his lip as the door squeaked behind him, he closed his eyes in pleasure and leaned against the cool wood. He ran his hands over his face as he padded towards his bed, collapsing on the warm blankets and moaning in delight. Curling himself into a ball atop the duvet, he tucked his hands between his knees and stared blankly at the curtains of Ron's bed.

He could still hear the shrill cry of the dragon amid the crashing and screaming of breaking glass. The animal had been magnificent, its scales gleaming a pale gold under the moon's rays. It was like the dragon was looking for something. The way it had called softly and waited as if someone or something was going to answer. Filch had certainly been afraid of the pony sized animal, the sounds of his retreat heard over the dragon's rumbles. He shivered as he remembered how close he'd been to the animal. The warmth rolling off its scaled body had been enough to redden his cheeks. Rising, he moved to change into his pajamas. His fingers froze on the lid of his trunk as he peered into its shadowed interior.

He tipped his head back and groaned loudly, the palm of his right hand connecting firmly with his forehead. Malfoy had the journal. In the melee and aftermath, he'd forgotten to reclaim the book from the blond.

"Merlin's balls." He grumbled, dropping to sit on the floor in front of the wooden chest. Resting his head on the wood, he ran his hands along the trunk and wondered what it would take to get the book back. Malfoy had seemed quite determined to keep it. His reaction to the music puzzling. It had been like he'd recognized it from somewhere. "Impossible."

Shaking his head, Harry finished changing and crawled into bed. He'd just have to wait and discuss the entire issue with Hermione and Ron tomorrow. While he was at it he'd try and figure out what it would cost to get his journal back. Snuggling into his pillow, he closed his eyes and dreamed of dragons.

XxXxX

Draco entered the Slytherin Common Room calmly, swishing his cloak aside as he brushed past two snogging seventh years. Shaking his head and snorting over there public display, he stalked up the stairs into the dorms of the sixth years. He burst through the door and smiled with pleasure as the wood connected loudly with one of the dungeons stone walls. Standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat and waited patiently to be acknowledged.

"Draco! Whatever it is you want can wait for tomorrow!" Blaise snarled sleepily, not bothering to push the curtains shielding his bed out of the way. He rolled his eyes as the thud of boots approached his bed, groaning when the blond swept the long swathes of fabric back and crawled onto the bed. "Draco," he moaned, flopping onto his back and raising one hand to shield his eyes from the glow cast by the wand jammed into his face.

"Get up, Blaise. This is important." Draco stated quietly, reaching behind him and drawing the hanging curtains back into place. Frowning as the dark haired boy grumbled under his breath, he delved into his pocket and slipped the journal free. "Look at this."