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Ginny used to be different!
Back then she was head-over-heels for Harry. She'd bug Ron every single day, asking when Harry was finally coming over to their house.
How long had it even been?
Just before Christmas—Christmas Eve, actually—Ginny had gotten Mom to help her write a letter to school begging to bring both Hermione and Harry home for the holidays.
If Ron had to rank Ginny's crushes, Hermione was hands-down number one. The day Hermione showed off in front of her had left a massive impression.
But second place had always been Harry.
Ginny was basically Harry's tiny fangirl. She kept his picture by her bed and looked at it every night before she fell asleep.
So what the hell had changed?
"Ginny…" Ron swallowed hard. "Have you actually met Tom?"
"Nope," Ginny shook her head. "But Hermione's talked about him a ton."
The second "a ton" left her mouth, Hermione's face went bright red. She ducked her head and nervously rubbed her socked toes together under the table.
"These past few days Hermione's been—" Ginny started, but Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Enough, enough! We're here to enjoy wizard's chess, right?"
Draco, sitting across from them, caught the shy flush on Hermione's face and felt a chill run down his spine.
R-right…
Was this how it was supposed to go?
Even here at the Weasleys', Hermione couldn't stop talking about Tom?
Shouldn't it be me she's talking about?!
I'm the one who taught her how to dance! I started the Hermione Fan Club!
She should be bragging about my heroic deeds!
That damn Tom stole my spotlight again.
Draco was fuming inside.
But anger was cheap—it didn't make a single ripple in front of a girl.
The only way to win her over was wizard's chess!
Once the game started, Draco finally felt like himself again.
Yep, I'm a genius.
Ten moves and Hermione was already frowning.
Stay cool.
Draco forced himself to calm down.
What would Tom do right now? Facing a girl he liked, how would Tom play?
He'd go easy—just enough to look like he barely won.
Not too obvious. Just a little. That's how you steal her heart!
So Draco started throwing the game.
The match heated up. They were one move away from the finish.
But that one move was exactly what Draco had planned for from the start.
Losing? Not an option.
If he lost to Hermione now, he knew exactly what label he'd get stuck with. He'd never get another chance to play her again.
Win!
"Again," Hermione said, fired up, already resetting the board.
While no one was looking, Ron quietly slipped out of the room.
He went to his own desk, grabbed parchment and a quill, and scribbled a short letter.
Address: Hogwarts
Recipient: Harry Potter
Ron only wrote four words:
Home in danger. Return immediately!
---
Hogwarts.
Harry stared at the letter, completely confused.
Home in danger?
If the Weasleys were really in trouble, Ron would've written to a professor, not him.
So what did this mean?
Then Harry remembered Hermione was staying at the Burrow, and his stomach twisted.
Return immediately…
Was that it?
Had something happened to Hermione?
Harry stuffed the letter away and sprinted to Dumbledore's office.
"Professor Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore blinked sleepily and looked at the boy standing in front of him.
Lightning scar on his forehead, face full of panic.
"Easy, Harry. Tell me what's wrong. You rarely come see me. What could possibly have you this worked up?"
"I need to leave school for a bit. I want to go—see Ron!"
Dumbledore was quiet for a second, then chuckled. "To see Ron, you say?"
"Yes!"
"Really?"
Harry: "—Yeah. I'm really going to see Ron."
He figured it wasn't exactly a lie.
He was going to see Ron. He'd just… stop by and check on Hermione while he was there.
"Would you like me to take you, young man?"
Harry lit up. "Thank you, Professor! You're the best!"
Dumbledore waved it off like it was nothing.
He had Harry grab his hand, and the next instant they were standing outside the Burrow.
Watching Harry bolt through the door, Dumbledore couldn't help smiling.
Kids were wonderful. Especially these ones—so cute when they thought they were being sneaky.
Of course he knew who Harry was really rushing to see.
Ron was just the excuse. The boy was actually here for—
Hm?
Through the window, Dumbledore only saw Draco and Hermione.
They were playing wizard's chess right by the glass.
Wait—why was Draco here?
Where was Tom?
Shouldn't Tom be with Draco? Or had the kid stayed home again, buried in his magic research?
Dumbledore rubbed his forehead and let out a heavy sigh.
That boy Tom really was…
Such a hard worker.
---
Momo Mountain Range.
The very same Tom Dumbledore was thinking about was still inside the volcanic crater at the peak.
"Mr. Fire Dragon, I don't know if you like these, but they're human snacks. You can try them. If they taste bad, just spit them out."
On the way up, Tom had picked up some pastries.
They were basically just a snack for a dragon.
Trying to fill an adult dragon with cake? Good luck.
The dragon was easily seven or eight meters tall; the pastries were nothing more than a quick taste.
"Mr. Fire Dragon—"
"ROAR!"
The dragon cut him off roughly.
"Sorry, my bad—Miss Fire Dragon," Tom apologized instantly when he realized his mistake. "Your scales look like they haven't been cleaned in a while. If it's okay with you, may I wipe them down?"
Tom was the most prepared wizard alive. Before coming to the mountain he'd packed everything he might possibly need.
When the dragon didn't object, Tom pulled out a damp towel and carefully started polishing her scales.
He could have used magic to clean her instantly.
But magic wasn't the same as a proper massage!
Only doing it by hand would make the dragon feel truly comfortable—and only then would she understand exactly what he was willing to do for her.
After all, he still needed her help decoding those ancient runes later.
Tom had a mental scale for weighing benefits. He knew exactly where the profit was.
It took a full hour and a half—thanks to all the workouts he did.
His body was stronger and had way more stamina than most people, so he managed to clean the dragon from snout to tail.
Once she was sparkling, the dragon closed her eyes again, ignored Tom completely, and let him study the runes in peace.
Ancient Script—
Tom pulled out a notebook and started copying the characters.
The second he wrote the first two symbols, a splitting headache hit him.
What the hell?
He stopped writing immediately.
The deathly aura was too thick. If he kept going he was pretty sure he'd drop dead right there.
The silent dragon finally spoke, letting out two low roars.
Tom understood.
The powerful being who left the message here had placed a restriction.
You could only read it on-site. You absolutely could not take it away.
No copying. No engraving.
Tom nodded silently and asked the dragon, "Can you read this stuff?"
He half-expected her to ignore him, but to his surprise the dragon gave a small nod.
That was all. She closed her eyes again and went back to pretending he didn't exist.
Hmph. One day I'll get you to talk.
Tom ignored her and kept studying the ancient writing.
In the blink of an eye, the sun set.
Tom had spent the entire day there.
It felt exactly like when he'd first tried to learn advanced calculus back in the day—he couldn't even understand the symbols!
He grabbed fresh parchment and wrote a quick letter back to school.
Tonight he wasn't going back to Malfoy Manor.
He was staying here until he cracked these runes.
No one was dragging him away until he figured them out.
---
Malfoy Manor.
Draco dragged himself home, exhausted.
It was already late.
He glanced at Tom's room—the light was off. He didn't think much of it, figured Tom had gone to bed early, and crawled into his own bed.
The next morning, Lucius woke up and noticed something odd.
Why was the bathroom completely dry?
No one had used it. Had that kid Tom not come home last night?
He hurried to Tom's door and pushed it open.
The bed was untouched. The blankets hadn't been moved at all.
"Get in here!"
Dobby came scrambling up the stairs.
"M-Master, is something wrong?"
"Did Tom come home yesterday? The student I brought back—the one staying in this room."
Dobby wiped sweat from his forehead, terrified. "N-no, Master. Dobby didn't see Tom yesterday."
"Why didn't you tell me?!"
Draco sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flashing with fury.
"Master said… when Master is home, Dobby is not to speak… Did something happen to Master Tom?"
Draco ignored him and stormed out the door.
Tom wasn't home. He had to have gone back to the Momo Mountain Range.
That idiot—if you're going to die, don't do it at my house!
If Father found out, he'd lose it.
And we'd be the ones who paid for it!
Just thinking about how much Professor Snape doted on Tom made Draco's heart pound like a scared deer.
That deer was about to trample him to death!
Don't die, Tom!
It took him nearly an hour to get there—his personal record.
He even used a flying broom.
"Tom—what the hell are you doing?"
The second Draco saw him, the heavy weight in his chest vanished.
But when he actually registered what Tom was doing, he wanted to close his eyes forever.
A strange shock was hammering his brain.
Draco desperately wished he could forget the sight in front of him, but every time he blinked, the image came right back.
Tom was… brushing the fire dragon's teeth?
With a brush as thick as an adult's arm.
Had Tom actually hooked up with this dragon?!
She wasn't even his pet—she was just some random magical creature he found on the mountain!
Okay, fine—not exactly random, and definitely not ordinary.
But how could Tom do something so undignified?
You're a wizard! A genius wizard!
Why are you doing servant work?!
Anyone could tell you don't understand how noble your wizard status is.
"Draco?"
Tom spotted the blond flying overhead, waved, then went right back to brushing the dragon's teeth.
The dragon wasn't having it. She bared her fangs and glared straight at Draco.
"Stay right there, Draco. Galo says if you come one step closer she'll tear you apart."
Galo?
You already exchanged names with the dragon?
In one day?!
What exactly did you two do in the last twenty-four hours?!
That kind of thing is not okay!
"I just… came to check on you," Draco said weakly. "Now that I see you're fine, I can relax."
The dragon—Galo now—had only half her teeth brushed. The left side gleamed white; the right side was still covered in black gunk.
Draco wiped sweat from his brow, parked his broom to the side, and refused to look at Tom and Galo.
From down in the crater came the sound of the two of them playing around.
Well… one boy and one dragon playing around.
Tom was working hard, putting in serious effort.
Galo was just enjoying herself.
Draco covered his ears.
I'm not listening! I refuse!
Thinking about it…
Tom had managed to get on the good side of a full-grown fire dragon in a single day.
Draco felt like the sky was falling.
This Tom… he couldn't possibly be human.
What was he?
Was there a better word for whatever species Tom belonged to—something more fitting for a human?
Then it hit him.
A legend he'd once read.
Succubus.
This Tom had to be a succubus!
How else could he pull something like this off in twenty-four hours?!
Normal dragon tamers took months to bond with a fire dragon.
Tom?
One day. Twenty-four hours. Done.