The Dragons of Raveana

Secrets and Deals

Draco reached out a hand and steadied himself as his feet slammed into the hard marble floor, one slender eyebrow arching as he glanced around the foyar of Malfoy Manor. Straightening his cloak with a flick of his wrist, he turned to stare at his father's retreating back.

"I thought I was going to Durmstrang," he stated calmly, rolling his eyes and gliding after the older wizard. He passed silently down the hall in Lucius' wake, a trail of dried mud and grass marking the path he took. Somewhere within the sprawling house, a clock began to chime the time away, each gong reverberating through the thick stone.

Lucius flicked a passive look over his shoulder, his hand tightening on the head of the silver cane he carried. "I lied." He returned, sweeping into his office and heading toward the massive desk that occupied one entire corner of the room. The traveling cloak he wore was tossed thoughtlessly onto one of the chairs sitting before the fire as he stalked by, the dark cloth sliding over the back to pool on the seat.

"You believe you're capable of teaching of teaching me?" Draco asked in amusement, flopping gracefully into one of the tall chairs across from his father's desk. Arching both his eyebrows, he swung his heels up onto the dark wood and clasped his hands together. "Did mother talk you into this?"

Frowning, Lucius pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the bottle of Fire Whiskey he kept hidden there. Plonking it down on the dark wood, he glared at his son. "Where is the flute?"

"My flute? Why, I suppose it's in my trunk." Draco murmured innocently, watching as his father poured a snifter of the liquor. Around his neck, the silver chain containing the Dragon's Maw seemed to grow heavier, as if trying to remind him of its presence.

"Don't be smart with me, boy." Lucius hissed, wrapping his long fingers around the small glass and taking a cautious sip of the whiskey. He arched an eyebrow and glanced at the small clock hanging above the fire before slumping deeper into the comfortable chair. "The flute that was in the little room on the third floor."

"You mean this flute?" Draco queried, hooking a finger through the silver chain and pulling it out from under his Quidditch jersey. At the apex of the metal, the golden ring and the miniature flute swung back and forth, clinking gently together. Releasing the necklace, he leaned back in the chair and studied his father's relieved features. "How did you come to be in possession of the Dragon's Maw?"

"That flute has been passed down through seven generations of Malfoys, each heir holding and playing the instrument in hopes that the Mage Dragons would return." Lucius murmured into his glass of whiskey. A tiny smirk played across his face and he lifted the alcohol in a toast. "To you, Draco, summoner of the last clan of Mage Dragons."

"Why was it so important that the dragons be called back?" Questioned Draco, his fingers closing around the flute. The tiny bumps and ridges of the keys bit lightly at the pads of his fingers, making him jump slightly and drop the instrument.

"Something about correcting a mistake. The real reason was lost long ago, every generation after Reginald Malfoy was more interested in the power that the Mage Dragons would bring when they returned. They're an extremely powerful species, every witch and wizard wanted some part of them." Lucius responded after a moment of deep thought. The blond threaded his fingers through his long tangle of hair and tugged gently on it, peering at his son. "Have you tried to command them?"

It was that question that gave away his father's reason for wanting the flute. Smiling sweetly, Draco lifted one shoulder and tipped his head to the side. "I called them, didn't I? That guarantees me a certain level of power over them." His father didn't need to know that Harry was the one who could command them. That would spoil all their fun and ruin the surprise. "Why is it so important that I be able to command them?"