Note: This is my first ever fanfic, so please review! (And if you’re going to flame me for it, make
them little, non-painful flames). Advice much appreciated for further writing…
Also, the story is set in his 7th year.

Disclaimer: standard... JKR owns my setting (Hogwarts) my main character, and et cetera et
cetera... so don't sue me!

Rating: R

Dragon of Ice

by Shining Golden
 
 
 

You are ice, Dragon. Crystalline, perfect, cold…
A silver-white wall surrounds you and keeps me from touching you, keeps anyone from touching
you. Sometimes I wonder what you keep hidden under that opaque mask. Not only are you perfect,
but beautiful as well. White hair, soft and fine as silk, silver eyes that reflect everything, showing
nothing, and a pale, creamy complexion that most girls would kill to have. Perhaps it is because of
your beauty that we let you treat us the way you do. Although more likely it is because of your cold
mask of perfection, and the way that for a few  brief moments, I almost think that I can break through
that wall and really touch you. I can’t  help but wonder what would happen if I did. Would I find a
cold heart of evil, hidden under an icy façade? Or just a poor little boy, who was never able to show
his feelings, and so always keeps them hidden…

In my rational moments, I know that I’ll never reach through that wall… I don’t think that anyone
ever will, so why do I let you do this to me? No, why do I beg you to do this to me? We both know
that I come to you willingly, and I miss you when you’re gone. So do all of your others, I’m sure.

So here we are in the great hall, where your game begins. Unbidden, my eyes stray to your table,
where you sit and look beautiful enough to break my heart. I sip my wine impatiently. Oh well, at
least if you don’t choose me tonight, then I can drink myself into oblivion in my darkened chamber
later. I’m sure it wouldn’t be approved of for a seventh year to drink herself silly, but at least I
know that I won’t have to go to Madame Pomfrey in the morning (fortunately, hangovers are easy
enough to cure with a little magic).

There! Your eyes flash across the long rows of tables and meet mine for just an instant. The
unspoken invitation that I’ve been waiting for. My heart races madly just from the touch of your
eyes…

You get up from the table, maybe you say something to your friends, but probably not. Crabbe
and Goyle are more interested in their Slytherin girls anyways. I watch you stride gracefully out of
the great hall, and I mutter something to my friends as I get up to follow you, my pulse racing in
anticipation.

The night is hot, and a warm breeze tosses my hair as I step out of Hogwarts and towards the
lake, where you are standing. Wordlessly, you kiss my hand, making my heart flutter, and lead
me off towards the gardens. You never say much to me, but then, you never say much to anyone
anymore. I remember when we first started at Hogwarts, when you used to shoot your mouth
off at whoever would listen. Now, you rarely say anything, acidic or otherwise. Perhaps all of
the hot air has been beaten out of you? Or perhaps I’m just being dramatic, and you’ve matured
since then.

Frankly, right now I don’t even care. Actions speak louder than words. You stop in a sheltered
corner of the garden, over-shadowed by willow trees, and smelling heavenly of the nearby roses.
I stand still for a moment with my eyes closed, savoring the smell of the roses and the caress of
the night air. You certainly can be romantic when you want to be, Dragon. I throw back my head
and revel in the maddening touch of your hands, and your lips, which sets my soul afire.

Before long, we are lying together in the grass, our robes strewn carelessly on the ground. I
feel a thousand sensations as I run my hands through soft hair and over softer skin. One of my
last conscious thoughts is to hope that there is no one around to hear my gasps and cries. Then
I surrender myself completely to you, like I knew I would. I press myself to you with careless
abandon and beg you to take me, like I knew I would. In return, you make me moan and cry
out in pleasure.

When we are finished, we collapse together in the grass, and I get to hold you close in my arms,
which is, perhaps, the best part of our meetings. It is then that I realize that you never made a sound.
You didn’t cry out or gasp, or shout my name as I shouted yours. Your face, also, remained the
same controlled mask that it always does. The only emotion that you showed was in the shakiness
of the breath you just drew, and the way that, for just a moment, you rested your silken-white head
on my shoulder.

Still, I know that you must have enjoyed yourself. I know you, Dragon, and I know that you
wouldn’t give me pleasure like that unless there was something in it for you. Yet, for a few sweet
moments, that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but you and I and the night. For an instant, I can
almost believe that I cracked your layer of ice and that you will show something… say something,
cry, tell me you love me! Please…

But of course, you do none of this. You lie there, with your eyes closed, and you look like an angel
with the moon’s light and shadows playing across your bare skin. You look so beautiful that I think
my heart may shatter, although whether in joy or pain I don’t know.

I can’t help myself. I break the moment. I reach out to touch the silver of your hair, to feel its pale
strands run like liquid silk over my fingertips. Unable to stop myself, I reach out to touch your face.
Then, quick as a viper, before I even get a chance to run my finger down your cheek, you catch
my wrist in strong fingers. Fingers that look delicate and beautiful in their slim paleness. The
softness of your hands belies their strength.

You slowly open your eyes, and my breath catches as I see silver eyes reflecting silver moon.
Then, as if nothing ever happened, you put back on your robe, and like the shadow that you are,
you melt away into the night.

I am left alone, and it takes me a moment to realize that the wetness on my cheeks is tears.

I am left alone. Of course, I knew, in my rational mind that I would be… but it’s hard to convince
my heart of that. You know that you mean everything to me, and I mean nothing to you. No one
does.

I shakily stand up, and try to keep my mind from wondering where you are - off with someone else
no doubt. Someone who will beg you to stay with them, as I did, but I can take small comfort in the
fact that you will leave them, just as you left me.

I slip my robe on and head back to the castle, already anticipating the next time that you will love
me, and leave me…