分卷阅读14（1 / 2）

“Positive. I mean, hurting Harry’s friends hurts Harry, so Malfoy can’t start anything with us either right? All we do is ignore him. Easy.”

Hermione smiled. “Exactly.”

Lucius Malfoy had tuned out his son’s ranting hours ago and just let Draco continue talking until he had repeated himself three or four times, worn himself out pacing around, and stormed off to his bedroom. Raising an eyebrow at some of Draco’s last statements on how it wasn’t fair because he wasn’t even going to be punished for being so stupid as to help Potter because it was following Veriae instinct, Lucius just stored the entire few hours away as temporary insanity and returned to his book.

He’d known this was going to happen after all. Why else had he deserted Voldemort? Honestly, Draco himself should have suspected that Potter was his soul mate after that. Oh well. Draco was, after all, an adolescent, and adolescents sometimes couldn’t find something if it hit them on the side of the head, relationships being one of those things. What would come would come, and Draco would never actually tell Potter that he was his soul mate, so what was Draco worried about anyway?

By Friday morning, Draco had carefully built a manor on the left bank of “denial” and was comfortably living in it without any thought whatsoever. The potion had been finished and he’d given the stupid vial to be tested to Potter, saying to test it if he wanted to but Draco knew it was perfect and had left the room before Potter might have swallowed it. So Potter didn’t know anything whatsoever about the aura of Draco’s soul and both boys (along with respective friends/bodyguards) were ignoring each other…but Draco was dreadfully wrong about one thing.

On Thursday night, Harry Potter had dumped the entire clear contents of the vial of the completed potion into his pumpkin juice and had watched everyone’s auras for exactly one hour. He’d delightedly told Hermione of her aura (apple red) and had told Ron he didn’t want to know (Slytherin green) and had then looked at his own to find it was ebony black. Which he thought was fitting, thank you very much…and then Draco had walked in. Harry had felt annoyance when he realized that Draco and he had the exact same aura. Who did that git think he was, having the same aura as he? Then his brain had started working… maybe it was something about being a Veriae. He still hadn’t checked out…er…”borrowed” that book on Dragontongue from the Restricted Section…and a resolution was made to translate exactly what those wyverns had said about Draco and himself on Monday. After all, he still remembered very clearly what the hissing had sounded like…strange what one remembered without really meaning to.

So he had left dinner, had trespassed into the library’s restricted section, and promptly spent all night learning to speak Dragontounge. He doubted he could really speak it fluently, but he would understand it. There were only a few differences between it and Parseltongue, because dragons were capable of making a snarling “kh” and “rrrk” sound that snakes couldn’t do. So at exactly 3:48 a.m. on Friday morning, Harry looked at the translated sentence one wyvern had spoken to another.

“Lucky boy. It’s too bad that you’re the intended of a Veriae.”

Intended of a Veriae? What did that mean? Hmmm. Hermione had that book on Veriae- people before, maybe she checked it back in. But looking revealed that, no, she hadn’t. Well, then he would just have to ask her to see it.

Hermione looked at him for a long moment before smiling and fetching the book from her dorm, saying something like, “What’s mine is yours, Harry, you know that,” and left him to his reading. Harry thought that look was rather odd, but he walked up to his dorm and collapsed on the bed. Merlin, he was tired. A nap would be good right now. He’d skip whatever class he might have this morning and sleep in, then he’d look up what that “intended” thing was, and then go down to Care of Magical Creatures. Yes, very good plan Harry, he told himself. Sleeping sure looked good right about now.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry at the entrance to the grounds, as they always did on Fridays, to walk down to their Magical Creatures class. But they noticed that something was different about Harry this Friday as he made his way over to him.

“Something wrong mate?” Ron asked.

“Sorta. I’ll tell you when we get to class.”

Harry’s two friends shared a knowing look as they followed Harry across the grounds. Another person too, had noticed the slight difference in Harry, but was trying to convince himself that he didn’t care.

Wonder what’s wrong with Scarhead? Draco thought. Well, Potter would tell his friends soon enough, most likely in Creatures (Draco still didn’t know why he himself continued to take that class…). Ah, the joys of being a Veriae…it was rather windy today. One of the things Draco liked about breezes…they were very chatty. He couldn’t speak to them himself, but they had the uncanny ability to figure out what he wanted to know. And so, every part of the conversation Potter and his friends had would be heard by Draco.

“You know, then?” Ron asked as they stood away from the other groups that were taking care of their latest charge…a mini-dog-looking-thing that had a strange fish-like tail and webbed paws.

“You mean you read the book too?”