In the Room of Requirement classroom.
Harry and the gang had all filed out, but Lucien hung back, keeping Malfoy behind.
"So, what was with the bolt this morning?"
Lucien cut straight to it, and Malfoy hemmed and hawed.
"Uh, well, Potter came chasing after me—so I just... ran, y'know?"
Lucien shook his head a little. What was this, some chase-and-escape rom-com?
"Whatever. Come by tonight—we're checking out the fire dragon. I remember you being pretty into magical creatures like that."
Malfoy blinked, caught off guard that Lucien had clocked his interests. Felt kinda nice, actually.
The no-BS invite had him scratching his head.
"I get it. My lips are sealed—no spilling to anyone."
"A Malfoy doesn't rat out his friends."
Lucien tidied up the test papers, smirking to himself inside.
As long as said friends are strong enough.
"So... do I need to pay up?"
Lucien's head snapped up at that, giving him a weird look.
"What?"
Malfoy backpedaled quick.
"Oh! Uh, our family dragon farms do tours—visitors pay to snap pics with the dragons."
"So, haha, force of habit."
Wait—pics with dragons?
Wasn't that just begging for a Darwin Award?
Dragons were XXXXX-class magical beasts—top-tier danger zone.
Only the most badass wizards should get anywhere near 'em. Everyone else? Hard pass.
Hmm. Malfoy's family ran a bunch of those farms. If he could swing it, hit one up over summer.
Call it recon for Norbert—make future "conquests" of his Ridgeback kin a smoother ride.
"Draco, those dragons—they're the real deal, right? Not some illusion spell?"
Malfoy thumped his chest, all earnest.
"The Malfoys do business with integrity!"
"If we say dragon, it's a dragon. Folks line up begging for a peek!"
Lucien just stared for a sec, at a loss for words.
Wizards and their thrill-seeking—total death wish. Curiosity won out, though.
"No accidents ever? Dragons are way too risky for that."
Malfoy shrugged, casual as could be.
"Oh, sure—two or three a month."
"So we bundle in insurance and follow-up healing. Everyone leaves happy."
Heh. Full-service dragon experience.
"Draco, ballpark for a farm visit? Galleons-wise?"
"Nah, no way!"
Malfoy waved it off like it was nothing.
"Just give me a heads-up—we roll up, no charge!"
Lucien had brought it up, so Malfoy knew the play.
His dad always said: Help each other out, and that builds real bonds—thick as thieves.
...
After dinner.
Hagrid's hut.
Malfoy's eyes were glued to the mini fire dragon on the table—even if the little guy was snout-deep in a barrel of booze, ignoring him flat-out.
"Whoa, a Norwegian Ridgeback!"
"Look at that—kinda like a Hungarian Horntail, but no tail spikes. Those ridges down the back? That's where the name comes from..."
"Big thing about 'em: Love chowing on sea critters. Someone spotted one snagging a baby whale once..."
"Too bad they're such scrapper types—especially with their own kind. That's why they're getting rare..."
Malfoy rattled off Ridgeback trivia like a walking encyclopedia.
Getting this close to a real dragon? He was buzzing.
Sure, his family owned farms full of 'em—but begging Dad to let him tag along? Always a no-go. "Too young, safety first."
The insurance and med kits were for tourist suckers, not the heir apparent.
No one gambled with the golden boy's neck.
Dad had promised, though: This summer, field trip time.
That's why Malfoy could vouch for it so hard.
Watching the adorable tyke lap up that chicken-blood brandy, Malfoy's hand shot out on instinct—gotta pet it...
"Aaah!"
A shriek sliced the air.
Everyone clapped hands over ears just in time.
Malfoy yanked back, palm shredded with bloody punctures.
Norbert? Snarling, all milky-ferocious at the audacious human.
Malfoy went sheet-white, clutching his hand.
"Easy, easy—he wasn't after your grub."
Lucien stroked Norbert's noggin; the dragon melted into a purr, zero trace of the grump-fest.
Man, real dragon hide feels insane.
Diagon Alley's "dragon skin" gloves? Total junk.
Probably just wyrm leather knockoffs.
Genuine dragon stuff was scarce—newbies bought a pair every fall, plus spares for wear-and-tear.
World dragon pop? Not infinite supply.
Even "dragon blood" half the time? Watered-down swill.
Lucien eyed Malfoy's wince—hadn't warned him on purpose. Lesson in dangerous critters: Hands off.
Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way to really get it.
He pulled his hand back, fishing a crystal vial from his pocket.
"Lemme see it."
Malfoy figured treatment time—obediently unfurled his palm.
A clear drop hit the wounds... and his eyes bugged.
They were sealing up, right before his eyes!
Post-bite, it hit him: Ridgeback fangs packed venom. Not always fatal, but swell-and-ache for days? Bet.
Dragon bites were a healing nightmare, but that drop...
Malfoy pegged it as some killer potion—fit Lucien's Potions whiz cred and raw talent.
Seeing Malfoy get chomped for being a dumbass, then patched up slick? Harry rubbed his own hand.
Fluffy the three-head had nailed him too—another magical beast mauling. Kinda made him pity Malfoy.
Just a smidge.
Norbert slurped the last of his brandy, then boinged onto Lucien's lap, coiled up, and yawned huge.
Lucien patted the little dragon's back, humming a soft lullaby—like tucking in a fussy kid.
The room watched, green with envy.
How does anyone bond with a fire dragon like that?