#(if the Will version is true... did Merlin ever toad Will to get him to shut up?)

[whataboringstory]

The way Merlin just knew what the spell was to put a toad in someone’s throat

[cubedcoffeecake-hp]

Unfortunately, That Was Better in Theory

Pairing: gen Drarry

Word Count: ~3200

Beta'd by the AMAZING @drarrytingz. Much love to her. <3 This is the top right corner square of my board for HD Birthday Bash's first challenge, Fic Tac Toe. The picture is of Hogwarts at night, and my brain went right to first year. So, understandably, the Drarry is far from romantic at this point. The story somehow started picking up headcanons as it snowballed down the hill, though, so I have to admit that this is only very loosely based on the actual prompt. Also posted on Ao3. I hope you enjoy!

It was terrifying, sneaking out of the dorms at night. Draco couldn’t fathom why Potter did it so much. Initially, he  thought Potter just enjoyed the freedom of it, but this wasn’t freedom. This wasn’t just getting to do whatever you wanted, which was an admittedly pleasing thought. This was knowing that you’d face horrible consequences if anyone saw you—consequences heavy enough to negate any enjoyment. He had a mission, though, and it was a noble one.

From the time Draco was a small child, he had loved dragons. They were mighty, and strong, and beautiful, and special. They were a remnant of the times of wizards past, when dragons were commonly known by both Muggles and magical alike. All of the Ancient Noble Houses claimed some convoluted connection to dragons. They were associated with riches, and with preserving your own. Everything Draco was and wanted to be could be found in a dragon.

Adoring dragons and owning them, however, were very different. Mother and Father encouraged him to admire dragons, but ensured he never forgot that dragons’ most noteworthy trait was their independence. They did not share their hoard. They did not fly with others. They were great, but they were solitary. They had neither masters nor friends. Dragons were meant to be remembered and respected, but admired from afar. Owning one was a preposterous concept that disregarded and denied dragons their independence, and always ended poorly for the foolish “owner.” Draco wanted to be like a dragon, but he knew not to want one.

Hagrid, however, was a fool. No matter how great the creature, he always believed that he could be both their owner and their friend. As if dragons had either! “Raising a dragon egg” was an insult!

Draco had known the moment he heard of this travesty that he had to put a stop to it. The authorities would kill it, though, and dragon reserves were too scrupulous  for the appearance of a random dragon egg not to arouse suspicion. Draco  had to find a way to alert the professors. Surely, they would take the matter to the school board, and Father would ensure the dragon was given sanctuary! It was the only way everything would work out. The only problem was, Draco had to catch Potter with the egg, or Hagrid would have a chance to hide it, which would only cause more trouble.

In Draco’s mind, using Potter’s own nightly stint against him would work perfectly. Aside from the minor rule-breaking on his part, this was a chance for everything to go smoothly.

Chances meant nothing, as it turned out. The dragon was now beyond Draco’s help and he had not only broken the rules, but also fallen for Potter’s ruse and was, therefore, a fool. Professor Snape may have believed him, but whether or not Draco was in the right would not matter to Father. He had been caught. No matter how wonderful your intentions, they’re meaningless if you’re caught.

A Malfoy had not received detention in four generations, and no Malfoy had ever been in a detention as severe as Draco’s. No Malfoy had ever lost Slytherin as many points at once as Draco had, and many Malfoys had not lost that many points during their entire time at Hogwarts. Many, Draco thought, was more likely most. Though Father was softening the blows a bit in his letters, Draco knew the underlying message was true.

He had been at Hogwarts for less than a semester, and had already sullied his family name—the one thing he was trying hardest not to do. So, as frustrated and worried as Draco was leading up to  his detention, he knew he deserved it, at least to some extent. Though he was giving Vincent and Gregory an earful about the unfairness of it all, Draco knew  it was more unpleasant than unfair.

Well, that’s what Draco had thought before learning that he would be entering the Forbidden Forest. There was nothing fair about that. Had Father known? Surely, this must be illegal!

The bushes crackled, and Draco jumped. He had read all about the kinds of creatures that occupied the Forest, and heard of the lesser known  ones from Father. Draco used to believe the Forbidden Forest would be similar to the ones he enjoyed exploring on the Malfoy lands, but they were in fact extremely different. Malfoy forests had mice and nice little rat snakes, swift and shining, but ultimately harmless. There were owls and hawks and songbirds, toads and beetles and worms, buzzing insects he knew better as potion ingredients, deer, foxes, and some other harmless small creatures. Few things magical, though, outside of a few benign creatures and plants also commonly used in potions.

In the Forbidden Forest, though….

As Draco trudged along by Potter and his Gryffindor cronies, his mind was filled with visions of werewolves and centaurs and too-big cats with too-big teeth, and twisted magical versions of foxes that worked in packs to disorient you and then eat you, and fish with teeth as long as his fingers, and poisonous toads, vicious disease-bearing insects, deadly flora, and whatever was apparently killing unicorns, some unknown monster beyond imagination that no one knew how to combat. Draco had been afraid many times in his life, but he had never been so acutely afraid of his own death before. His only solace was that Hagrid, brute that he was, might be a more desirous food source for whatever they’d encounter. Perhaps Draco would have time to run while it ate him. He could grab Potter, too, maybe, drag him with him. Even gits like Potter didn’t really deserve a death that terrible. As long as it got to Hagrid first….

No, but of course, Draco was paired with Potter while the other two got Hagrid and a feral dog that was as likely to attack them as anything of the Forest. He’d changed his mind. Potter could die as horribly as he wanted, Draco was just going to run.

Unfortunately, running worked better in theory than in practice.

Yes, of course, Draco and Potter encountered the unicorn-killing beast. Humanoid, horrifying, and looking like it would eat them next. And of course, Draco followed his plan and ran, leaving Potter to be eaten first.

It was faster, though—so much faster. Which would’ve been all right, as it did indeed go straight for Potter, but…

Draco had gotten into this mess because he cared too much. He could pretend to be as logical and cold-hearted and calculating as could be asked of him, but in reality, he was willing to break a school rule and endanger his own status to save a dragon. Draco couldn’t just leave Potter behind at the mercy of that… that… thing.

He stopped, and he turned around, and he tried to think of the strongest, nastiest curse he’d ever heard Father cast. Not an Unspeakable, Draco knew you couldn’t cast those until you were older… not anything that would mess with the mind, who knew if it even had one…but it needed to cause extreme physical harm…

Too long! He was thinking too much! It had grabbed Potter by the neck, and now he was screaming, screaming, screaming. Draco couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but there was blood everywhere, both red, human blood and the priceless silvery unicorn blood already turning black as he watched. Why was he still just watching? It was reaching its other hand up; it was going to snap Potter’s neck, oh Merlin, he was going to watch someone die. Merlin Merlin Merlin, where was Fang? How could Draco do anything if the terrifying hellhound had fled?!

There was a sound, echoing over Potter’s screams. Laughter. It was laughing as it reached to snap Potter’s neck, and… that was it. Rage overpowered Draco’s terror. He didn’t know what he incanted, or if he spoke at all. He simply cast, wildly, and it looked up at him, but his magic was faster than even its reflexes, and Draco’s magic launched it across the clearing with an inhuman howl. It hit the ground by the unicorn with a crunch.

Draco paused for a moment as what he’d just done sunk in.. He’d… he’d attacked it. Oh Merlin, it was going to wake up and kill them both now!

“Potter!” he cried, running forward. “Potter, get up! We have to go now, before it comes back over!”

“I—what?” Potter started to sit up as Draco reached him, but his eyes were dazed and unfocused. With a grimace, Draco guessed that Potter probably wouldn’t be okay enough to think for a while. Hopefully, he was just recovering from the lack of oxygen; if he was concussed, Draco likely would not be able to help him escape the Forest in time.

“Look here, Potter. You are going to do exactly what I say, and you’re going to do it quickly, and we’re going to live. Yes? Yes?!”

“Yes! I—okay,” Potter stuttered.

That was enough answer for Draco, who grabbed Potter’s arm and pulled up. He couldn’t hear any noise from the clearing, which wasn’t nearly as reassuring as it should have been. Potter scrambled to comply with Draco’s tugs, and together they got him upright. Immediately, Draco started pulling them into a run toward where he thought the edge of the Forest probably was...hopefully. Potter stumbled more than ran, but Draco’s vice-like grip kept him upright and moving.

“Where are—do we have a plan? Or are we just running?” Potter huffed after a minute, beginning to run more on his own power than Draco’s. He seemed far too calm for the situation; Draco was so scared he couldn’t articulate an answer. After a moment, Potter must have realized this, as he suddenly started yelling for Hagrid’s mutt, which… was actually brilliant. Draco joined in with the yelling. The unicorn killer was probably on their tail already—though Draco couldn’t bring himself to look back and check.

There was a sharp crack to their right, and Draco gasped. At the same moment that Fang leaped through the bushes, Draco lost his footing and fell, his ankle cracking more sharply than the twigs Fang had snapped.

“Fang! Thank Merlin, he can show us the way—oh no, Malfoy?!”

A distant part of his head registered that someone—Potter, probably—was speaking, but Draco couldn’t focus on it. All he could feel was the shooting pain in his lower leg, the thudding of his heart, the lightness in his head, and the soft but solid ground under him. His eyes drifted shut, and he let out a shallow breath. Draco could feel himself losing consciousness, but wasn’t fighting it, until he felt a hand on his shoulder, distracting him from the pain and his heart and his breathing, and bringing the terrified begging, “Please don’t pass out, Malfoy, please, I don’t know what to do—” into focus.

Potter, he realized. I—I have to get up. I have to get up. He doesn’t know what to do. I have to get up. Draco’s breath rushed back to him, and he pushed himself off the ground just enough to roll over, wincing at the pain that shot through his leg.

“Oh, thank Merlin! Malfoy, are you alright? I don’t know where it is, but it can’t be too far behind us, just enough that Fang isn’t scared, I think—oh—oh—your ankle… it shouldn’t bend like that.” Potter sounded like he might be green in the face.

“Brilliant, Potter,” he groused, “but I did notice.” For once Potter didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’re gonna—we’re gonna need to find somewhere to hide, for the night, and then we can have Fang lead us out in the morning, I—I can help you walk, I think….”

“No! Well, I… I…” Draco didn’t have a better idea. “Okay.”

“O—Okay. Yeah. Here, let’s just, I’ll drag you under those bushes over there. Yeah. Can I grab under your arms?”

“I suppose.”

“Alright… here we go… I’ve got you… Ouch, you’re heavier than you look!”

“Are you calling me fat?! Now, here?!”

“No!”

“Maybe you’re just weak.”

“I am not! How could you—can you not? For one minute?!”

“Not what? Point out your stupidity?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I’m not stupid—”

Suddenly, Fang whined, and both boys gasped and fell silent. Potter nearly dropped Draco as he quickly looked around. There were a bunch of glowing eyes in the trees behind them.

“Oh Merlin—we’re going! Help me, please, if you can?” Potter said quickly, sounding panicked. Draco’s heart was pounding again, and he tried to use his uninjured leg to push himself along.

The eyes disappeared for a moment, just to suddenly reappear all around them. Everywhere. Draco screamed.

Draco thought he’d woken up, for a moment, but all he could see were faint, swimming lights. Dull ones, at that. His body felt weightless, with some kind of light pressure all over. He drifted away—no, he couldn’t have, he’d never been awake in the first place.

When he awoke again, however, it was to pain and screaming. His pain, not his screaming. Harry…Harry’s screaming. Potter. Oh, Merlin.

Eyes shooting open, Draco gasped as he blurrily surveyed his surroundings. There was movement everywhere, and Potter was still screaming—though it sounded more like a battle cry than Draco thought his ever had. Looking closer… oh.

Spiders. All of the movement was from spiders. Huge, hairy spiders that were all revolving around Potter, who…

Well, Potter was just curled against a tree, and when Draco realized there was a giant snake separating him from the spiders… he fainted. Not from terror, of course; it was entirely due to his injuries. He’d swear it later. Injured, remember? Ankle.

“Malfoy. Malfoy! Are you in there? Please, please wake up… I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll… you cannot die. Do you hear me?!”

“Of course I hear you, you never shut up,” Draco mumbled. Then he paused. “Wait.”

“I’ll explain everything! Just, whoa, I don’t think… that you can—should! That you should stand yet,” Potter stuttered as Draco tried to push himself upright.

“I—” Draco had too little leverage. He didn’t know what was going on at all. He’d been in the Forest… with Potter… unicorn-eater… spiders. Giant snake. “Yes. Explain. Everything. Now.”

Potter looked disbelieving and exasperated. Good. Draco shouldn’t be the only one miserable here.

“So… we were both, um, attacked by spiders? Really big ones. I think they attacked us. But yeah, we—I, woke up in a spider web… cocoon? All wrapped up in silk. And I was… well I didn’t have my wand, so… powerless, I guess. Couldn’t do anything.

“I just started crying for help as loudly as I could. I called for Fang, and Hagrid, and McGonagall…even Snape, eventually. I thought he might care about you enough to look, and all. But no one answered or anything, so I started calling for anyone to help us, please, and all of a sudden I heard someone! They answered! Something about hearing a speaker, and that being rare or something, and that they’d save me! I mean, us; I insisted they save us both….”

“A… mysterious voice. Agreed to save you.”

“Us!”

“Uh huh.”

“It did!”

“Oh, so go on. How was I saved by this wonderful voice?”

Potter appeared to be full of righteous indignation for his friend, the disembodied voice. “They cut us free from the spiders’ ropes! And then chased off the spiders!” Wait. Wait.

“Potter...was this disembodied voice a giant snake?!”

Potter froze. “You… woke up during that?” he asked tentatively, starting to… blush? “I swear, Malfoy, I was just screaming because I was disoriented. I grabbed you as soon as I realized what was going on!”

“You talked to a snake! Do you know what that means?”

“I’m not as stupid as you thought I was?”

“You’re a Parselmouth!” Draco screeched.

“Can you at least stick with insults I understand?” Potter complained.

“No, you utter imbecile! Being able to speak Parseltongue is a blood-given magical ability passed down in the most powerful descendants of Salazar Slytherin, that allows the witch or wizard  to speak to snakes—and some variations of dragon—and cast some spells wandlessly because it is a distilled language of literal magic! You don’t learn it, can’t learn it, but if you speak it, you automatically know everything about it! Perfect grammar, full vocabulary… Potter, you being a Parselmouth means you are the greatest Slytherin to grace Hogwarts’ halls since… I don’t even know! Slytherin himself, perhaps! The Dark Lord was also a Parselmouth, but you’ve bested him, which makes you a stronger Parselmouth, and… Merlin.” Draco gasped in a few breaths and stared dazedly at a tree. He now knew  a Parselmouth. He’d been saved from giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest by a Parselmouth. He’d…

“But… I’m a Gryffindor!”

He’d forgotten that Potter was also stupid.

“That’s your personality, not your magic identity,” Draco recited. “I don’t remember the rest of that drivel, it’s in Hogwarts: A History somewhere, but it’s a true bit. I’d hate to room with you or Weasley, but all that means is that I like a quiet, clean dorm room, not that I can never do a brave thing, or be bold. They have nothing to do with each other. No, Potter, you’re definitely a Parselmouth.” Draco was gazing dreamily again.

Potter’s jaw hung open for a moment, and he seemed insulted, for some reason, but Draco went on, not paying him much attention.

“Parselmouths have a unique advantage over ordinary wizards, just like Metamorphmagi, for example. Most known Parselmouths have either become hermits, so they can live peacefully with mostly snakes and natural magic for their company, or have become strong leaders of something or another. In those cases, they’re usually untouchable because the level of servitude they receive from serpents makes it terrifying to even think of assassinating them…”

“Stop!”

Draco jumped and looked over at Potter.

“I don’t even want to know how you know this much about this stuff, but all I’m hearing is you spouting off facts about people who are…” Potter’s voice was trembling. “Who are not me, and are not stuck in the Forbidden Forest with another injured person. Yeah, I talked to a snake, they saved us from the spiders, but from now on, we’re on our own. All that about… greatness? Was that the moral of the story? That can wait. Right now, we need to live.”

At first Draco was hurt, a feeling that soon became offense. Moral?! He wasn’t a bloody Gryffindor! Potter had a great gift! He was equipping him with knowledge, as a fellow Slytherin! That hadn’t been Potter’s point, though. As soon as his ankle was mentioned, the pain in it returned with a vengeance, and Draco faced the truth. Potter was right. They must escape the Forest, and they must do it quickly.

“It’s… it’s morning light right now. You were right, a few minutes ago,” Draco said softly, “Headmaster Dumbledore will be sending out professors soon to look for us. We should be alright, if we can stay awake...are you...injured? Should I try to wrap anything?” Though the offer was extended awkwardly, Draco did it anyway. This was no longer just another ignorant, Muggle-raised peer. Potter was going to be great.