Fic Request #54

FIC REQUEST #54:



Title: Vases and Dragons
Summary: Five years after graduation, Hermione was called to asked to retrieve a dark magic object that’s fallen into the hands of a muggle antique dealer. Because of her lack of antique knowledge, Draco Malfoy is sent to accompany her, posing as her husband.
Rating: PG



VASES AND DRAGONS


Hermione stepped out of the carriage and headed up the steps of Hogwarts, noticing that in the five years since she graduated, the castle hadn’t changed at all. She paused at the top of the steps, wondering if she should go directly to Dumbledore’s office, or if she should wait for someone to greet her.

Dumbledore solved her dilemma by walking up to her. “Miss Granger. Thank you for coming,” he said.

“Thank you Professor, I came as soon as I could get away,” she said. “Your letter was a surprise.”

Dumbledore headed down the hallway, beckoning for her to follow. Hermione looked around her, noticing small changes in the school since she had last been there. A few new portraits hung on the walls, some as
replacements and other squeezed into any space they could find. She noticed a few students out and about, but the corridors were mostly empty.

“You were the first person I thought of when this particular problem was brought to my attention. You were extremely good at transfiguration when you were a student here, and your work at the Ministry in Muggle Relations would be useful for this task,” Dumbledore said, giving the password for his hidden staircase.

“What task?” she asked.

“Step into my office and we will discuss it. I would prefer that it be discussed away from students. You know how rumors get around.”

“Of course.”

As they entered he waved his hand and a large, comfortable chair and tea tray appeared. He poured two cups and sat down behind his desk.

“Please make yourself comfortable Miss Granger.”

She sat down, taking one of the cups and stealing a glance around the room. Nothing had changed, the same portraits were on the walls, and Fawkes was his usual perch.

“The reason I requested your presence, Miss Granger, is because an object has come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic. It looks like an ordinary black vase, but it is called the orbis proditio, or the betrayal orb. It is a powerful dark magic object that has been around for centuries. No one is sure of its origins, but it has appeared in our history many times in the past centuries,” he said, pausing to sip his tea. Hermione waited for him to go on.

“The orb was thought to be destroyed in the last days of Voldemort’s reign. He was going to use it to destroy anyone who opposed us. Few people have seen the orb and even fewer know how to use the power it contains. It is rumored that the one holding to orb will instinctively know how to use it, which is why we suspect Voldemort wanted to use it.

“Until a week ago, everyone thought the orb perished with Voldemort. There were reports of people seeing a black object explode, and we did find shard of black material where he made his final stand. However, it appears that the shards found were not the orbis proditio. Careful Miss Granger, you will spill your tea.”

Hermione jumped. She’d been caught up on Dumbledore’s story, and has forgotten she was holding a cup of tea. She tilted the cup back to it was level, and took a sip. “I’m sorry Professor, I was caught up in listening.”

He waved his hand. “That’s fine. I didn’t want you to spill your tea, it could come as a nasty shock if you weren’t expecting it.”

“What happened to the orb?” she asked, setting the cup on the arm of her chair.

“A source has told us the orb, or a very similar object, has turned up in the United States. It is in the collection of an antique dealer in Seattle. We have not been able to identify it, but it looks identical to all descriptions we have in our texts, even down to a series of gold and red bands near the bottom. The presence of these bands suggests this is indeed the orbis proditio.

“Our sources in the United States tell us the current owner has considered selling it. He considers it little more than an antique vase. An expensive vase, but still just a vase. We suspect it is giving off a malevolent feeling, and the antique dealer can feel it, which is why he wants to be rid of it.”

Dumbledore paused to refill his cup. “If the vase is indeed the orb, it needs to come back to our world. And that, Miss Granger, is why I have asked you here.

“We need someone to travel to Seattle and procure this item. The antique dealer is a muggle, so your years of work in Muggle Relations will come in handy. Also, your skills in transfiguration may also be helpful.”

“Professor?” she asked, a bit confused.

“If you are unable to purchase the orb from the antique dealer, I would ask that you transfigure another item into a copy of it, and bring it back to us. It must not remain loose in the world, even if it is in an antique collection.”

She nodded. “I will do my best professor. When do I leave?”

“You will leave the day after tomorrow. We have already arranged for the antique dealer to know you’re interested in the vase. You will take the International Floo Network to the United States, and from there you will take a muggle airplane to Seattle. A car will pick you up and take you to the antique dealer, who has offered to let you stay with him and his wife.”

“Do you think this will work?” she asked, feeling nervous. “Art isn’t something I’m familiar with. What if I slip up?”

“I trust you will do your job perfectly, Miss Granger. However, there are some at the Ministry of Magic who have the same misgivings you do. They have requested that you be accompanied by someone who has knowledge of fine arts and antiques. So, you will be accompanied by a professor at Hogwarts, and will be posing as an affluent English couple.

“Who is going with me, Professor?”

“My potions master.”

“Snape?” She asked in disbelief. She’d be better off alone that stuck with him for this trip.

“No, Professor Snape stopped teaching here last year. You will be going with my new Potions Professor, Draco Malfoy.”

* * * * *

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. With a sigh she checked her watch for the third time in five minutes. Draco was late.

She looked around the Floo Hub. Dozens of witches and wizards were milling about, some standing in lines waiting to floo out, and other chatting, or enjoying a cup of coffee while they read the paper. She felt out of place, the only one wearing muggle dress in a sea of robes.

“Granger,” a familiar voice behind her said. She turned around. There was Draco, dressed in wizard’s robes and holding a small bag. “I’m not surprised you’re dressed like a muggle.”

“And I’m not surprised you’re late,” she shot back.

He waved his hand dismissively. “There was an incident at the Floo Hub. Some drink wizard held up the line, so I had to floo to Canada and then to here. It added 20 minutes to my travel. Now where are we going? I didn’t have time to read the paperwork I was sent.”

“We’re supposed to go outside and take a cab to a hotel for the night. Then tomorrow we fly to Seattle and meet with the antique dealer, Mark Thompson.”

“Right,” Draco said, setting his bag down. Hermione watched as he slipped out his robe, revealing muggle clothing underneath. He folded the robe neatly and put it into his bag. Pulling a wand out of his jacket pocket, he tapped the bag twice. It immediately began to expand, turning into a large black suitcase.

“What?” He asked, noticing Hermione’s bemused expression. “You couldn’t possibly expect me to travel with nothing more than that.”

“Actually, I expected you to have more than one bag.”

“I felt more than one bag was unnecessary. I shrunk everything so it would fit.”

“I’m not surprised,” Hermione said. She picked up her own bag. “Come one, we need to go find a cab.”

The two threaded their way through the crowd of wizards, dodging a dancing suitcase and a small child throwing a tantrum. On the other side of the hub Hermione pulled a door open and stepped into a hallway. She checked to make sure Draco had shut the door behind them, and then opened another door. She walked through the door and into a small train
station.

“I thought we’d come out at the airport,” Draco said, shutting the door behind them.

“The airport is too busy, this is quieter. I was told there’s always a cab or two waiting outside, so we won’t have to fight for one.”

Draco set down his bag. “Before we go find a cab, there’s something I need to give you. Dumbledore said he forgot to give it to you before you left.” He rummaged around in a side pocket and pulled out a small box. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

She opened it up and found a wedding ring. She stared at it a moment, and then put it on. It felt foreign on her finger.

“Since we’re supposed to be married it would look funny if we didn’t wear them,” Draco said, also slipping on a wedding band. “Let’s go find a cab.”

They walked outside and hailed a cab. The ride to the hotel was short, giving Hermione very little time to process what had happened so far.

When the cab pulled up at the hotel, Draco paid the driver, flagged down a bellboy to carry their bags, and offered Hermione his arm. She took it, trying to act like they did this all the time. They walked into the hotel and up to the front desk, where a receptionist was waiting with a smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, checking in,” Draco said.

“Of course, Welcome to our hotel,” The receptionist said. She slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Sign this please.”

Draco signed the papers with a flourish, and exchanged them for a set of keys. He took Hermione’s arm again, and they set off for the
elevator with the bellboy in tow. Once in their room, Draco tipped him while Hermione looked around.

The room was ornate, decorated lavishly with heavy fabric and gold tone fixtures. She noticed the bed was the focal point of the room and wondered how she and Draco were going to handle this. There was no way she was going to sleep in the same bed as him.

“The bellboy told me the restaurant is still open, are you hungry?” Draco’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“I am. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and that was hours ago.”

“Let’s go have dinner, and then we can discuss what we need to do.”

Dinner was quiet. Hermione exchanged pleasant conversation with Draco, but her mind was more on what could happen tomorrow. She wanted to run over their plans, but she didn’t want people to hear. And she was still pondering over what to do about the bed situation in their room.

After retiring back to their room, Hermione pulled out a folder from her suitcase. “We should start talking now, so we can get a good night’s sleep before our plane ride,” she said, sitting down in an overstuffed chair.

“I’m ready to sleep now. My body says its 3 am,” Draco said, sitting down near her.

“I brought a sleeping draught for us. It’ll help us get used to the time change. But first, we need to discuss what we’re going to do.
Dumbledore said you’d take care of our cover story, but I need to know what it is so I don’t say the wrong thing.”

Draco nodded. “Our cover story is simple. We’re married, have been for 2 years. We have plenty of money, and I collect antique vases. This vase is supposedly similar to some of the ones found in my collection, and could very well finish out a specific set that my parents were collecting.

“As far as money goes, we have a lot of it. This allows both of us to follow our own pursuits, I collect vases and other antiques, and you - well, you do whatever it is you want. When you think of something, tell me so I don’t tell this guy you collect handmade Amish swimwear when you’ve told his wife you collect varieties of roses. Just make sure it’s something worthwhile, Granger. We’re wealthy, so make sure your tastes reflect that,” he said sardonically.

She bristled. “Still the same, I see. I hope you plan on treating me better in front of Thompson. If you don’t I don’t see how this could work”

“Don’t worry; I plan on treating you exactly like a husband should. I hope you return the favor,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

He continued, “Anyway, while we’re there I will be inspecting the vase. I should be able to tell if it’s a magical object pretty quickly. If all goes well, I’ll be able to persuade him to let me purchase the vase. The Ministry made sure that I had ample resources at my fingertips, so money is no object. Then we pack up the vase and bring it back here, and then floo back home.”

“And if all does not go well?” Hermione asked.

“Then you will transfigure something into a copy of the vase, and we’ll switch the two. Then you’ll transfigure it into something small and we’ll bring it back. Either way, we’re getting that vase.”

“What if he looks us up? It’s not like you’re exactly known in the muggle world, Malfoy.”

“If he looks us up, he will find that I am the only son of a wealthy English family that has roots in France. Our family is prized for an extensive antique vase collection that resides in my parent’s mansion, and that you and I got married there two years ago. Don’t worry about our background, it’s already been sorted out.”

Hermione shut the folder on her lap. “It sounds like you have this all sorted out. I just hope everything works out.”

“It will,” he said. “Just make sure to act like you adore me, and pass off any antique questions to me, and we’ll do fine.”

Hermione stood up and went to her suitcase. “I suppose we should go to bed,” she said, pulling out two flasks. “Our flight leaves early
tomorrow.”

Draco took a flask from her and walked to the far side of the bed. She pulled out her wand and transfigured a chair into a bed.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

She turned around, noticing he was shirtless. Trying not to stare, she stammered, “I’m sleeping here. We might be pretending to be a married couple, but I’m not sharing a bed with you unless I have to.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, pulling the covers back. “When we get to the Thompson’s house we’re going to have to share a bed. It wouldn’t do for them to see you transfiguring their chairs into beds.”

“When we get there we’ll worry about it,” she said, pulling on her nightdress. She crawled into bed, settling herself in before uncorking the sleeping draught. She saw Draco doing the same thing.

As he downed his, she said, “If they ask you what I collect, tell them dragons. Silver dragons.” She downed her potion and lay down, letting sleep claim her almost immediately.

* * * * *

Hermione took a deep breath as the car pulled up in front of a large brick house. In a few moments she would have to pull off the near impossible and pretend she was happily married to Malfoy.

She snuck a glance at him. He was sitting next to her, studying his fingernails with a faintly bored expression. A slight tremor in his hands belied his calm exterior, although Hermione doubted anyone would notice.

Her door opened. The driver extended a hand to her. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he said, helping her out of the car.

“Thank you,” she replied, trying not to stumble as her heel hit a lot spot on the walkway. She stepped aside and waited for Draco. He stepped up behind her, taking her hand and giving is a brief squeeze. She shot him a grateful look as they heard the front door open.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, how good to finally meet you. I’m Mark Thompson, and this is my wife, Jane.” He was shorter than Hermione had expected.

He ushered them into the house, talking a mile a minute about his antiques business. “I took over the business when I was in my twenties, it’s been in my family for generations,” he rambled as he led them down a hall. “Most of the furniture in our house is antique. Jane just loves how it looks.”

He stopped suddenly, almost causing Hermione to run into him. “Here we are,” he said, opening a door. “I know you’re probably hungry, but I wanted to show you this vase before we ate.”

The vase was on the far side of the room, on a table. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, picking it up. “From what I can tell it’s French or English in origin, but it doesn’t fit any standards I could find. It’s close to one or two patterns, but not exactly on.”

He handed it to Draco, who flinched slightly as he took it. Hermione could feel magic radiating from it. If this wasn’t the orbis proditio she’d eat her wand. She noticed Draco looking it over carefully, a look of pain still on his face.

Mark noticed it as well. “Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy? You seem pained.”

“Call me Draco,” Draco said, “And no, there isn’t a problem. I think I received a small shock when you handed it to me. My hand is tingling.”

“You’re the second person to say that, Draco. Back when I had the vase at my shop, a gentleman came in, inquiring about it. When he picked it up, he also said he felt like he’d been shocked. He was an odd fellow, so I just chalked it up to that. Maybe the gold bands allow for static to build.”

“Odd?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, he wore a long black coat. If I didn’t know better I’d say it was a robe. He seemed most uncomfortable, and was mistaking ordinary
objects, like a cordless telephone, for antiques. He was most interested in that vase, said that it wasn’t his type, but he knew someone who might be interested in it. I never heard back from him, so I assumed whoever he told wasn’t interested.”

“How strange,” Draco said, handing the vase back to Mark. “Perhaps he was mentally ill. It would explain his confusion with the telephone.”

“Could be,” Mark said, shrugging his shoulders. He set the vase back on the table. “I suppose the two of you are hungry, let’s have some lunch before we get down to business.”

Over lunch Hermione learned far more about Mark and Jane than she really wanted to. Jane was content to chatter away about everything under the sun, leaving Hermione barely enough room to add the appropriate acknowledgements. She didn’t mind, the more Jane talked the less Hermione would have to say about her “marriage” to Draco.

After lunch, Mark and Draco went back to look at the vase again, while Jane offered to show Hermione the garden. As they walked about, Jane chattered on and on about her flowers, the weather, and her antiques. Hermione only half listened, wondering what Draco and Mark were talking about.

“What about you dear? Do you share Draco’s love of antiques?”

“Not as much as he does,” she lied. “I still have a lot to learn. There’s so much, I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it all.”

“I felt the same way when I married Mark,” Jane said, putting a sisterly hand on her shoulder. “I found it gets easier over time. Just keep asking him to explain things. Eventually you’ll get it.”

Jane resumed her chatter, letting Hermione drop back into her worrying. She knew she was fretting over nothing. If the worst case scenario happened she’d just transfigure a bottle from her suitcase into the vase. She’d rather hope it all went well.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for her. She remembered Jane saying it was getting late, and that it was time to start on dinner, and she remembered helping Jane chop vegetables, but everything else up to dinner was hazy.

At dinner, Mark announced to everyone and no on in particular that the vase would be leaving tomorrow morning with Draco and her. Hermione was relieved. That was one problem out of the way.

Mark seemed to focus on her at dinner, so she spent most of it trying to answer his questions. A few times Draco answered for her, saving her from potential embarrassment.

After dinner, Mark offered to loan them his car and driver, so they could go explore the city. Draco tried to decline, but Hermione jumped at the chance to be out of the house. Mark laughed at her eagerness, chiding Draco gently about giving into his wife’s whims.

Jane showed Hermione the guest room and left her with a few
suggestions of places to see. Hermione spent a few minutes tidying up, and then grabber her coat and headed down to the front entrance.

“I’ve told David to take you to Pioneer Square, where my antique shop is. You may not find a lot of antiques there, but it’s full of boutiques and shops that should keep Hermione happy,” Mark was saying as she walked up. “Just tell him when you want him to be back, and he’ll meet you there. I would say you have a couple of hours of time left.”

“Thank you Mark, your hospitality has been superb,” Draco said as he took up Hermione’s hand. “We’re both interested in seeing part of Seattle before we depart.”

After saying their goodbyes they climbed into the car. Hermione was dying to ask Draco about what had happened, but she knew she had to wait. Fortunately the drive was short, and before long Hermione was standing on a sidewalk, looking up and down a long line of shops.

“When do you want me back, Mr. Malfoy?”

“How about three hours?” Draco said.

“Very well, I will be here in three hours.”

Draco offered Hermione his arm. She took it, and the two of them started walking down the street. As they saw the car vanish in the distance, Draco turned to her. “I suppose you want to know how everything went.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s the orb. I could tell as soon as I picked it up.”

“Are you sure? It could be another dark magic item we don’t know about.”

“No, it’s the orb,” he said. “I wish it weren’t.”

Something wasn’t adding up. “What aren’t you telling me?” Hermione asked.

Draco led her over to a bench in a small park. “Sit,” he commanded, taking a seat himself. Hermione complied.

“There’s more than one reason I was sent with you on this trip. The most obvious reason is that you’re ill equipped to handle antiques. You don’t know their value, or their history, and you wouldn’t be able to bluff your way through this. So Dumbledore asked me to accompany you. I grew up around antiques, Malfoy Manor is always full of them.”

“And dark magic items,” she grumbled.

“Yes,” Draco said quietly. Hermione noticed he wouldn’t look at her, his eyes seem fixed on a small pebble on the ground.

After a moment he spoke. “The other, more important reason for me to accompany you was dark magic. If the vase turned out to be the orbis proditio, it would have been difficult, if not impossible, for you to get it back to England.”

“You think I wouldn’t have been able to get it back? I’m not an idiot, Draco, I know how to transport dangerous items,” she said, her temper rising.

“It’s not that. The orb is programmed to respond depending on who is holding it. It ignores muggles and squibs, but it can severely hurt the wrong kind of wizard. And you’re the wrong kind.”

“Wrong kind?”

“The orb only responds to wizards whose blood is from a handful of wizard bloodlines. Dark wizards, mostly. Families that have been known to support powerful dark wizards, like my family did to Voldemort.”

“So you have to transport the orb back to England.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else I should know about this, or am I better left in the dark?” Hermione said bitterly.

Draco ran his hands through his hair, momentarily obscuring his face. “I didn’t have a choice. Dumbledore thought it was best if you didn’t know about my family ties to the orb. There’s more, if you want to here it.”

“Sure, if you think I can handle it.” Sarcasm was evident in her words.

“Hermione – don’t,” He was quiet for a minute. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow. “The orb only responds to bloodlines of wizards that support dark causes. The reason it does it because our blood made it. My ancestors bled so that orb could be created.

“It wasn’t just my ancestors of course, many families took part. But my family provided the remaining ingredients. They called everyone together, to get the blood. They made it in the shape of vase, so it wouldn’t arouse suspicion. The name, orbis proditio was a tie in to my family. What better family to create an object to betray the wizarding world than a family whose name means bad faith?” Draco laughed bitterly. He looked straight ahead; speaking to Hermione, but as if she wasn’t really there.

“They kept the orb after it was made, keeping it safe for those they felt were worthy. Once Voldemort came to power, my father brought out the orb. He knew that Voldemort would make good use of it. It didn’t hurt that by offering up the orb he’d be in Voldemort’s good graces.” He used our blood to strengthen the charms. The orb responds to me because
my blood is in it,” he finished.

Hermione stared. She opened her mouth to say something, and closed it. Words escaped her.

“I expect you’ll hate me even more now, but maybe you’ll understand why I agreed to come. I’m one of the only people who can safely get the orb and take it back to the people who can destroy it. And I’m one of the few who has any idea of how it was created. I couldn’t let someone die trying to get it. Not only would we have to track it down again if they got it, but I don’t want to be responsible for any more deaths.” Draco buried his face in hands.

They were silent for many minutes. Hermione tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to mind seemed artificial. Finally, she put her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look up.

“I don’t hate you, Draco,” she said softly. “I haven’t hated you for many years. I despised you when we were at school, but after graduation you were really a non issue, and I didn’t see any reason to hate you.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said, sitting up. He looked over at her, his eyes reflecting the light of a nearby lamp. They gleamed silver. “I’ve spent the last few years trying to prove to everyone that not all Malfoys are evil. I never supported Voldemort, I never was a Death Eater, and after Hogwarts I never went out of my way to torment the muggle born. I grew up, which is more than I can say for my father.”

“You’re better than your father,” she replied.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Draco broke the silence. “If we’re supposed to be tourists, perhaps we should go look around? I’m sure Mark will ask us where we went.” He stood up and offered Hermione his hand. She took it and straightened out her jacket.

They spent the rest of their time window shopping and watching the other people on the street. Hermione ducked into a small shop to purchase a picture frame she’d seen in a shop window. It had small dancing teeth on it, and she figured her parents would love it. Draco laughed when she showed it to him.

As they were walking back up the street to where they’d be picked up, a thought occurred to Hermione. “I thought Snape was the potions master. Did they promote him to Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Draco shook his head. “He quit a couple years after we graduated. He said he’d had enough of teaching, and so he took up a position in the Ministry of Magic as a potions master there. I guess he felt he could do more good there, patching up the aftermath of Voldemort. He recommended me for the position, and I’ve been there ever since.”

“I’m glad it was you and not Snape that came with me. When Dumbledore said his potions master was coming with me, I thought you were going to be Snape. I was going to refuse to go if that was the case.”

Draco had a good laugh over that. They rode in silence back to the house. As they got out the driver informed them that Mark had been called down to his shop, and Jane had retired early with a headache, so they were to make themselves at home. They thanked the driver and headed upstairs.

“Even with that potion I’m dead tired,” Hermione said as they walked into the room.

“I am too,” Draco admitted. “What do you want to do about sleeping arrangements?”

“I would transfigure something into a second bed, but I don’t know how that affects muggle antiques,” she admitted, surveying the room.

“Well, I promise not to bite or take all the covers, if you’re up to sharing the bed,” Draco said.

“At this point I don’t think I’d notice. Just don’t snore.”

He grinned. “I think I can manage that.”

* * * * *

The next morning they said their goodbyes to the Thompsons and headed off for the airport with the vase. The flight was uneventful. Draco and Hermione spoke little, each lost in thought.

Once off the plane they collected their luggage and took a cab to the train station. From there they slipped through a door marked “Frequent Rider’s Club” and made it back to the Floo Hub. Once there Draco pulled out his wand and robes and shrunk his suitcase. Hermione also donned a set of robes, glad to be back in her normal clothing.

“So you’re taking the orb back to Hogwarts?” she asked, as they waited in line to floo back to England.

Draco nodded. “Dumbledore thinks the current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and I can disarm the wards and destroy it. It’ll take some time, but if we can’t do it, Dumbledore knows a couple people who probably can.”

“Well, have a good time doing it,” she said. “I suppose I won’t see much of you once we get back. Hogwarts doesn’t usually need someone in Muggle Relations.”

They were nearly at the head of the line. A Witch in purple robes came by and checked their permits.

“I suppose not,” Draco said, shifting his bag. “But, if you’re ever at Hogwarts, let me know? I’ll make a pot of tea and we can chat.”

“I’d like that,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. She watched the wizard in front of them step into the floo.

Draco fumbled with something in his pocket. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” He handed her a small bundle.

She unwrapped it. It was a small white dragon. “You said you wanted to collect dragons,” Draco said with a smile. “I figured I’d give you a start. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up collecting another one.”

He stepped into the chimney and was gone before she could say anything. She stuffed the dragon into her pocket and followed, not wanting to hold up the line or let him leave without an explanation.

As she stumbled out of the chimney in the London Floo Hub she looked for him. He was already gone.

With a sigh she pulled the dragon out of her pocket, looking it over. “Well, little fella, it looks like you’re the only dragon around. Although if what he said was any indication of things to come, you might not be the only one.”

She put the figurine back in her pocket and headed out of the Hub. She needed a bath and some time to think.

* * * * *

The following fic is in response to Fic Request #54 which stated the following conditions:

Rating(s) of the Fic: G thru PG-13

3-5 Things to Include in the Fic:
1. Anything that is realistic
2. I don't want instant love, that's like just add water and have a hippo
3. It would be nice to include more of a plot than just love, maybe focus on multiple people or have an adventure on the side as well.
4. Doesn't have to be extremely detailed
5. Maybe it'd be interesting to read one when they're out of Hogwarts?

What Not to Include in the Fic:
Nothing sexual, obscene or otherwise disgusting. I don't write that kind of stuff and I don't enjoy that kind of stuff. Minimal sexuality and extreme violence is appreciated. Slash and abuse is also not wanted.

* * * * *