The Taming of a Dragon

Warning(s): None

Beta: CleopatraIsMyName

Chapter 8

"Harry," Neville greeted upon his arrival, taking a seat across from the brunet at the library table. The brunet glanced up and waved his hand the slightest bit, head ducked down as he dipped his quill back in his ink well. "What are you doing?"

"Hermione and Ron wrote me letters, and I still haven't responded yet," Harry chuckled, leaning back in the straight-back chair to stretch his arms and back. A satisfying crack met his ears, and he grinned in delight when Neville seemed to shudder in disgust at the sound. "So, how are you doing? I haven't seen you in a bit."

"Blaise has been spoiling me," Neville smiled, eyes glazed over the slightest bit. Harry cleared his throat and looked back down at this letter. After scribbling his name down on the parchment in black ink, he read it over quickly and cast a drying charm on the letter. No need to write separate letters; after all, Hermione would probably read this one, anyway.

"So, how's Draco?"

Harry crashed his elbow into the table and let out a sharp cry, rubbing at his sore limb. "How do you mean?"

"You know, Draco? Bad temper? Slightly prejudiced? Likes to cast spells in the kitchens to cause the house elves grief?"

"He seriously does that?" Harry answered the question with his own question. "I thought his brother was just making that up."

"You haven't seen him when he's properly angry," Neville shook his head, cradling his head in his hand. "It's crazy how worked up he gets. Especially when you call him 'Dray'?"

"Dray?"

"He absolutely hates it. Something about his name being a proud one for any pureblood, and it being something of an insult to call him anything otherwise."

Harry allowed his mind to wander for a few heart beats, imagining a pissed, flushed, mussed-hair Draco with his arms crossed, absolutely fuming at whatever "great insult" Harry had done him. He swallowed the saliva that had flooded his mouth at the image, and shook his head.

"I can imagine it just fine," Harry smiled at Neville. Something about his face must've said something about the path his thoughts had taken, for Neville had an eyebrow raised in a Blaise-esque expression of amusement. "Really. And you're spending too much time with Blaise."

"What?"

"You're starting to act like him." Harry shook his head playfully at the other teen, especially since Neville was still doing that eyebrow-thing. "I promise you that, one day, you're going to find your entire wardrobe transformed into one befitting Blaise. It'll be terrifying, yet inevitable," pushing his chair in, he folded his letters in half and slipped them in his robes pockets, along with his quill and inkwell. With that task completed, he walked around the perimeter of the table. Placing a hand on Neville's shoulders in a gesture of consolation, he solemnly stated with a serious expression, "The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Neville took a second to eye at him with pure befuddlement written in his gaze. Finally, he sputtered a disbelieving, "What?"

Harry chuckled, and walked towards the nearest bookcase, scanning through the various tomes and their various titles. As always, with the wizarding world, he couldn't help but wonder just what the authors were going for with the names.

After spying a rather interesting copy of The Parables of the Preternatural Pixie Pirates, Harry extracted the book and slunk back to the library table.

"Wizards have the oddest imaginations," Harry began, flipping the pages of the book. Neville raised his head in acknowledgment, head lying atop his arms. After a few minutes of reading, Harry read out one of the lines from the book.

Both were chuckling at the idea of twins, especially pirate twins, having telepathy of any sorts - though Fred and George seemed to be the entire personification of the theory, making Harry wonder if the author had been associated with the both of them - when the door opened.

In stepped Blaise.

Harry stifled a chuckle of amusement when Neville perked up, gaze landing automatically on Blaise at the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. When Blaise spotted Neville, he strode in closer, pecking the brunet's mouth in what started as a chaste kiss. Harry politely glanced away and at his literature when it went on longer than originally anticipated.

A few minutes later, when Harry sensed it was safe, he peered back at his friends. Blaise had an arm slung around Neville's shoulders, seated next to him at the table, and Neville looked utterly besotted. Backing up from the table, Harry needlessly announced his desire for another book and stood, striding back towards the book shelves.

Scanning the titles, once again, he was caught by surprise when Blaise sidled up next to him.

"Potter," he greeted, bobbing his head in acknowledgement. Eyebrow upraised, Harry greeted him similarly.

"Blaise."

"So, my mother wants to know when you're planning on officially announcing your intention to Court my older brother," Blaise stated, arms folded in front of his chest, expression revealing nothing but blank, detached curiosity.

Harry nearly took a step back, he was so bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"I sometimes forget you have no idea about pure-blood traditions," Blaise sighed, shifting his hands so that they were on his hips, instead. Before Harry could retort, he explained, "A Courtship is a fancy, pure-blood phrase for a tradition centred on wooing a potential lover."

Harry scrunched his mouth to the side in contemplation, letting loose a near-silent, "Oh."

"Are you going to, then?"

"Well, how would I even go about Courting Draco? I'm assuming it's not nearly anything simple as dating and the like."

Blaise nodded his head in agreement, beckoning Harry forward to another section of the library. Though the shelves held no defining characteristics or identifying marks for the types of material you'd find contained within each section of bookcases, Blaise seemed to navigate the area with ease. Probably because he's lived here all his life, Harry mused.

After a few minutes of traversing the shelves, Blaise picked out a huge pile of books and divided them evenly between himself and Harry, for ease of transport. Once they'd arrived at the table, Harry was careful to not merely dump his armful of books on the table, instead settling them down in the semi-neat stack he'd carried them in.

"Giving Harry a helping hand, I take it?" Neville asked, an amused smirk on his face. Harry just shook his head in reply to the rhetorical question, pulling his chair out and falling into it with a loud thump. When he looked up from his lap, Blaise and Neville were snogging again.

"It's cute the first time around, but sheesh," Harry playfully commented. Neville broke apart from his lover with crimson cheeks, whilst Blaise just seemed to be smug at Neville's reaction. "Now, where should I start?"

"I suggest you tell me just what you would hope to do for Draco on your dates."

"Um," Harry scratched at his scalp, leaning back in his chair until the two front legs were raised in the air. "I would probably continue as I have been, including gifts when the time arrived. Draco seems like he loves presents."

"Loving presents is an understatement," Blaise rolled his eyes at whatever memories of his older brother's expressive want for toys when they were younger he possessed. "It's with a fiery passion, I might add. You could be enemies, and he'd probably become a reluctant friend when you gifted him with something. But he also has very specific tastes, which is why a situation like that wouldn't usually happen, anyway..."

Harry grinned at the thought. He always did like a challenge, after all.

"So, you're saying I would have to carefully select every single present I would want to give him?" Harry asked.

Blaise bobbed his head. "Yes, that is essentially what I am telling you."

"Okay," Harry lifted his gaze to the ceiling, feeling his first wave of apprehension and nervousness envelop him. "No pressure then." With a long, deep breath in, and a long, deep breath out, Harry settled his chair back on all four of its legs and picked up a book.

"So, do any of these books have lists of these Courting rituals?" He squinted at the book's ridiculous title, One-Hundred and One Ways to Best Get Your Man, and placed it back on the table with exaggerated precision. He wasn't sure he wanted to actually look through it.

"Yes, in fact," Blaise smirked in glee. "They are spread throughout these books."

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment, and no small bit of fear. "A-all these books?"

"Well," Neville smiled gently. Harry was sure his eyes were twinkling in a manner reminiscent of a mischievous cat. Yes, he'd definitely been hanging about Blaise for too long. "You do believe Draco is worth it, right?"

When Harry reluctantly nodded his head with an audible gulp, Blaise continued on with. "Consider it a task on a quest, on your latest escapade," the brunet glared at Blaise without much heat. "In order to win the Prince's hand in marriage, you must prove yourself worthy. And that means reading through all these books, taking notes," a fresh inkwell, quill, and parchment appeared on the table without so much as a pause in his speech. "And searching for the Courtship ritual that best represents yours and my older brother's future relationship."

Harry felt the level warning in Blaise's tone and made sure to show his acknowledgment with a firm nod, if slightly hectic, bob of his head.

"Good, now," Blaise slid the writing implements and parchment over to Harry. "Hop to it."

With a groan, Harry set to do just that.

"Mummy," Draco began, head resting on Narcissa's dainty shoulder. "Do you think I'm making the right decision?"

"About your Harry?" She questioned, raising a hand to slide her fingers through his silky, white-blond hair, so like her own in texture and colour.

She knew a flush when she created one on her son's face. She smiled softly, in response.

"He's not mine," Draco grumbled, untangling himself from his mother in order to look at her while he spoke. "But, anyway. Do you think I'll be making a bad decision if he asks for my participation in his Courtship, and I have to face Father in his anger?"

"How does he make you feel?" Narcissa questioned, leaning over to pour herself another piping-hot cup of tea. "Let's start at that."

Once she was settled comfortably on the cushions, Draco sucked in a deep breath and let it out smoothly.

"Well, he infuriates me," he started, picking at his nails in his restlessness. She felt satisfied when a mere look from her halted him in his ministrations. "That's one. And he can keep up with me in my banter. He never seems to take any of my insults to heart, which is also infuriating. And he keeps me on my toes. He even manages to surprise me with every little thing he does. He set up a mini ice cream parlour in one of the dining halls just the other day, you know, without mean noticing..."

As the minutes passed by and he soon ran out of things to say, he bit the inside of his cheek in realisation.

"Thanks, Mummy," he shot a bright grin her way. She merely lifted up her tea-cup higher, the better to conceal her fond smile in response.

"Whatever for?" She asked, placing her now-empty cup back on the tea service. "I sat here and listened to you go on and on about him. You did all the work."

Draco's smile dimmed, but never in its intensity. "I guess I did."

"And I will handle your father. I haven't been married to him all these years without a clear idea of how to... have him understand my opposing perspective. After all, you went to Beauxbatons."

And Draco realised, on that day, just from where he had inherited his manipulative abilities.

Author's Note:

Hehe, I hope you guys enjoyed the latest chapter! :D

And you know how I thanked everyone last chapter for the insane amount of followers? It's went up even higher in the past couple weeks, and I just wanna say how thankful I am that you guys are enjoying this fic enough to do so! XD