Playtime for Dragons

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to JKR. The original plot and story belong to Velvet Song. Any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author’s Note: This is a continuation of Velvet Song’s story “Damsels & Dragons”, which she has graciously allowed me to adopt. You will find the first thirteen chapters of her story here: http: //www. thepetulantpoetess.com /viewstory.php?sid =18337 (remove the spaces first). I might suggest you read her story first in order to understand what has been happening.

Virtual hugs to Fizzabella and writermerrin for the beta of this chapter. The story is complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta’d. Thank you for the generous reviews. It’s nice to know people enjoy the words I put down on paper.

Playtime for Dragons

“Hmmm, yes, play that again if you please?” Phelps looked up from his notes as the final memory began to play itself out on the wall of the staff room. “Interesting. Most interesting. Is this all of them?”

“My wife is due to arrive in a couple of days,” Bill said. “We haven’t got her memories yet.”

“We’re loath to bring anyone else in,” Minerva explained. “For obvious reasons.”

“Yes, yes.” Phelps waved their comments away. “It’s not complete, though. There are several words either missing or misremembered. The closest anyone came is memory number nine. Whose is that?”

“Mine,” Hermione said. “Are you sure about the others?”

“Positive. I would guess these memories were not taken right after the battle?” He ran a hand through his already disordered hair. “Most slovenly record keeping,” he murmured.

“We weren’t aware—” Minerva began, drawing herself up in indignation.

“No, no, of course not.” Phelps scribbled some more runes onto his parchment. “There has to be something else we can do to solve Severus’ little problem.”

Hermione choked back a laugh.

“What is it, dear?” Minerva said. “Are you ill?”

Hermione waved her concerns away. “No,” she squeaked, her face red with suppressed laughter. “It’s just that… little problem… too funny.” She dissolved into giggles.

I am not amused.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasped, drawing a much needed breath into her lungs. “It’s just the thought of an eleven meter tall dragon being considered a little problem.”

Harry and Draco snickered, while some of the other teachers chuckled. Meanwhile, Neville seemed lost in thought, staring out the window at the Forbidden Forest.

“I know someone whose memories we don’t have,” he said suddenly. “We don’t have Professor Snape’s. Wouldn’t his be better than any of ours? They’d be first hand, after all.”

Phelps furrowed his brow. “That does make sense,” he said. “He was, undoubtedly, positioned the closest to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than anyone else as the curse was aimed at him. Has anyone tried to obtain his memories?”

“Mr Phelps, until this year, nobody could communicate with the dragon,” Minerva said indignantly. “Hermione is the only one Athair has even considered speaking with since his arrival four years ago.”

“So, Miss Granger, would you ask for his memories? It would be a great help.” Phelps looked at her expectantly.

You will have to come and take them from me. I can not, as I do not have a wand.

“Um…” Hermione nervously bit at her lower lip. “He… he says I have to come and get them. I… I guess he’s willing to let us see them.”

“Excellent, let us be off.” Phelps leapt to his feet in excitement.

Only you.

“He only wants me to come,” she said, catching Phelps’ arm as he came past her. “I don’t think he wants company.”

“Hell, no!” Remus was on his feet by this time. “You’re not going by yourself.”

“Remus—”

“No!” He was almost frothing at the mouth. “That’s a dragon! I don’t care if it is Severus Snape! At the end of the day, it’s still a dragon! You’re not going alone!”

HE’S NOT COMING!

Severus’ roar almost drowned out the arguing, but it was Hermione who got their attention when she simply walked out of the room. Astonishment lined the faces of everyone but Harry, who knew his sister-friend would not take kindly to being told what to do, even from Remus.

“He won’t hurt her,” Harry said into the sudden silence. “If he hasn’t done so in almost a year, he won’t do so now.”

“Potter is correct,” Lucius said in agreement. “Severus has feelings for the chit. He won’t hurt her. Tease her? Maybe. But not hurt her.”

“I still think someone needs to go with her,” Remus mumbled. “It’s not right.”

Hermione left the castle still irritated with the attitude she’d witnessed from Remus. “What is his problem?” she grumbled to herself as she made her way towards the forest. “It’s not like I haven’t been in there before.” Unknown to her, a single figure slipped out the doors behind her. So caught up in her indignation, she failed to realize she was being followed. However, dark eyes in the forest were watching her shadow’s every move.

“S… Severus?” Hermione called nervously as she reached the clearing where she had first encountered the dragon. “Are you here?”

Here. He slipped into view, sliding down until his chin lay on his front paws, his tail wrapped around his hindquarters like a cat’s tail at rest. Lying down as he was, it was easy for Hermione to reach his head. Hesitantly, she reached out and stroked her hand down his surprisingly soft muzzle. She jerked away as he rumbled deep in his stomach.

“Are… are you hungry?” she asked hesitantly.

No. That felt good.

She giggled. “You’re not ticklish, are you?” she asked mischievously.

He snorted. I have never been ticklish. It just felt good.

“So, now what?”

My memories of the battle. You may remove them now.

Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve and held it up to the side of Snape’s head. Murmuring the proper spell, she drew a long strand of silver out of his forehead. It wrapped itself around her wand, and she quickly released it into the glass vial she’d brought with her. Corking the vial, she held it up to him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I hope this helps.”

Severus snuffled at the edge of her robes. Me, too.

She slipped the vial into a pocket inside her robes and turned to leave the clearing. Just then, a twig snapped in the forest behind her. Quicker than she could blink, Severus had leapt over her and vanished. The gust of wind from his wings blew her to the ground.

“Ow,” she said, entangled in her robes and struggling to sit up. “Not again.” She looked around. “Severus?”

Snarls and yells came from the trees in front of her as she got to her feet. “Severus!” she yelled with concern and ran towards the sounds of struggle.

Reaching the trees, she found a chagrined Remus Lupin being held upside-down by his ankle. Severus remained invisible, but it was obvious he was the detainer and Remus, the detainee.

“Hermione, love—” Remus started to say, only to be shaken fiercely. “I… I’m sorry. Please, have him put me down. Please?”

She put her hands on her hips. “You followed me?” she shouted, her face a study in accusation. “After I said I had to go alone? Really, Remus! Why should I?”

“Because I’m a friend,” Remus countered, his face turning red as all his blood rushed to his brain. “I care about what happens to you.” Obviously, the wrong thing to say as he was fiercely shaken again. “Please, Hermione? Get him to put me down?”

“Severus.”

Hmmm?

“Playtime’s over.”

He’s a pestilence.

“He’s a friend. Please, Severus?”

For you then.

Remus suddenly dropped, twisting in the air until he managed to land on his rear rather than his head. He flinched as Severus roared above him, but didn’t move until Hermione reached down and took his hand to help him to his feet.

“It’s your own fault, you know,” she said, not unkindly. “I told you not to come.”

“I’ll listen next time,” Remus said sheepishly. “I promise.”

Good.