Draco Harry Novels & Stories

If I had to face this drakaina alone I know I would have likely fainted. Behind the Queen are two attendants. One male and one female and both very young. They are wearing matching outfits of pale blue silk, their wings small and folded behind them. The drake has a warm glow about him, like captured sunlight, his skin a tawny brown like days spent too long on a beach. His hair looks like a fallen star, starting with black at the roots and extending out in every direction with a fade from black into purple then red, orange, and finally pale blonde. His eyes are coal black.

“Why didn’t anyone know until later? Since you two are siblings, wouldn’t it be normal for you to know he was friends with a potential stone keeper?” “Generally, yes, but not exactly. Dragons are privy to who a potential is, which means that he wouldn’t have known. When Arric turned eighteen, he had been drafted to join the war against other Dragons. He had been gone for a few years and by the time he returned Azura had been chosen. That was when I found out.”

I retract my claw and slowly back away from him "Now answer my questions. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want from me?" I forcefully ask again, trying so hard to keep my anger in check. He collects the handkerchief his friend extends toward him. Taking his time, he carefully wipes the trail of blood away from his neck before pressing the handkerchief to the back of his head to stop the bleeding. "My name is Draco..." He says after he's done cleaning himself up. 'Draco!?... What the fuck kind of name is Draco? Draco means dragon or serpent. Who named their child that?...' I wonder to myself as he continues talking

One by one, the brothers filed out of the room. As the door closed behind Daemon, I slowly turned my attention back to Draco. He was already watching me. Interesting... He can command an empire with a single word. But the moment one of his brothers gives me a little too much attention... he sends him away. For a man who insists this is merely about control... he's making it increasingly difficult to believe him. "What the fuck is that again?” Draco yelled at me.

"You should be careful. Things that seem perfect often collapse just as easily." Draco's expression darkened as he lost his temper. "Whatever the case, she's still better than you, a useless showpiece who only knows how to exploit others. Take your ham and get out!" I swallowed my anger and met his gaze. "Fine. If anything goes wrong in the lab going forward, go ask your capable, cross-disciplinary Avery. Don't expect help from a so-called showpiece like me."

"I took your demons," Draco said, "because you were my brother and I could not watch them take you." The room was absolutely silent. "I was twelve years old," Draco continued. His voice was still even but it had lost something the armour of it, maybe. "I didn't do it to be extraordinary. I did it because you were terrified and I was there and I couldn't.." he stopped. "I have never hated you. I have never, not once.." another stop. "I don't know how you've carried that for this long."

I thought maybe something was wrong with the amulet, this explains it. “Draco was clear that we are to wait,” the stupid chief witch jumps in. I hate her. She terrorized me when I was a nobody here. “Draco is your leader now?” I ask, intentionally getting her in trouble. Draco is the most powerful wizard. He is the leader of the north hemisphere. Arrogant and pure evil. My master does not get along with him. “I…I…” she trembles when master shots her a deadly stare. “I will get everyone ready,” she adds and runs off. Pathetic coward.

he laughed at the mix of things. Draco hated the mix of things too, his other jobs had been less complicated, infact they were no complications at all. Now Stacey had come and changed everything, and he knew nothing would ever be the same, Lord knew how bad he wanted to keep her safe and he was ready to do anything for that cause.

It was a sign of mourning that they carried around, all along the mourning period. Draco was next to the pyre, his face a mask of stoicism, but I could sense the deep pain and sorrow that he was trying to hide. He was the Dragon King, feared by all, but today, he looked like a broken man. His little son, Damian, was standing beside him, his tiny hand clutched tightly in Draco's grasp. I could see the grief etched on his face, and he kept reaching out for his foster mother, who was no longer there to hold him.

A young man appears before our eyes and looks around the room as he floats to the ground. “Draco” She says in wonder.