"Dragon Bait" By: Bullied
Summary: One Shot, PWP, Slash. DM/HP. Harry discoveries that being a virgin sacrifice for a fire breathing dragon isn't quite what he expected.
Warning: Starts out as a light and humorous fairy tale which quickly loses all pretense of literary merit and drops into straight out porn (though the porn is anything but 'straight'). If this is your thing: read on!
Standard Archive Disclaimer: Please note that the following item of (non) fiction contains characters, ideas, plots and themes that are not the property (unless otherwise stated) of the listed author and have been used without official permission. I.E. J.K.Rowlings is 'it'.
In a mythical land inhabited by mythical creatures a long, long time ago there was a village called Hogsmeade. And in this village lived a black haired boy named Harry Potter, who had green eyes just like his mother.
It was a rather pleasant village for any boy to grow up in. It boasted many important citizens and fine shops, though for a boy like Harry, none were more important than Honeydukes, the bakery. This shop wafted sweet smells liberally about the village, only to be impeded when clashing with the foul aroma slithering forth from Snape's apothecary.
All in all, it was a lively place, which held not only a large and warty church (headed by the large and warty Cornelius Fudge), but also Hogwarts, a monks retreat for 'thinking deep thoughts' just down the road (headed by Albus Dumbledore, a man who was thought to think a little too deeply when smoking certain smoke-able substances).
The only blot on such a perfect village filled with such perfect citizens living in perfectly quaint cottages surrounded by perfect white fences, was the mountain that loomed overhead, for which the village had been named. Now, normally a mountain is only a thing to fear if it's the type that spits molten lava over unsuspecting Pompeien residents. But this mountain had been dormant for so long that it was probably time for it to move onto the next stage and start working on becoming a canyon!
No, the problem with Hogsmeade's mountain was the large, fire breathing dragon that lived there. And, much like the mob, dragons don't just leave a village alone for free. Though, instead of taking bribes of booze, money and cannoli, it's commonly held that dragons tend to be into plump virgins and blushing cows.
…Or something like that, in any case.
This was a cause of general distress for the villagers, who though prosperous were not necessarily imaginative. Thus, salt was liberally thrown over shoulders and many a villager made the safety sign on their forehead (which oddly enough resembled an 'L') upon catching sight of the top of the dragon infested mountain on particularly clear days.
But, the previously mentioned boy in this quaint village, Harry Potter, generally had no time to make the 'safety' sign for his own protection. He usually was much too busy running about filling the laundry list of errands his foster family, the Dursleys, had given him. No need to be upset about the hypothetical situation of being burnt to a crisp by a supposed (and never seen in his lifetime) dragon when Aunt Petunia's rolling pin to his head was very much a reality. Intimate encounters with said pin occurred if the clothing wasn't taken in immediately or the strawberries weren't picked (again, immediately) or Dudley's second breakfast wasn't on time (immediately, immediately as Dudley tended to gnaw on anything nearby if he missed a meal.)
The Dursleys called themselves Harry's 'foster family', though they were in fact his blood relatives, as they hadn't wanted anyone in the village to know that they were related to such a pathetic runt of a boy. But, really what could be expected of the son of a couple of wastrels who'd been run over by a rutabaga carriage? (Though that last part may have just been village gossip.)
Today was no different for young Harry, as he'd been sent to the market for potatoes and parsley. Aunt Petunia had needed them right away, which meant he should have had them before he'd actually stepped foot out of the Dursleys' cottage. He had hurried through the errand, if only to take a moment to stop and talk with Hermione, the midwife's daughter. Luckily his best friend Ron had been there as well, unusual for this time of year with all the crops the Weasley homestead needed to bring in.
The trio had been determined to make the most of their time together by catching up with any news. Of course, catching up usually involved Ron complaining about his older brothers and Hermione detailing the fascinating (and yet disgusting) new medicinal or herbal experiment she and her mother had undertaken. Harry usually didn't have as much to share as life was pretty much the same: hiding from Dudley's gang and being locked in the Dursley's root cellar.
Ron was still a bit down about his sister Ginny being chosen for the sacrifice to appease the dragon the year before. Therefore, both Hermione and he tried to cheer the boy up as best as they could. As tradition demanded (and Preacher Cornelius Fudge gleefully followed) the dragon of the mountain must be given a proper sacrifice, namely a virgin girl each year, presumably for eating. And thus went Ginny Weasley.
It had been a source of great contention at the time, for the Weasleys, though not rich, exerted great influence in the village proper, but as tradition demanded, Ginny had been led up the mountain in her best dress, with pretty red flowers in her pretty red hair.
This act had caused pain for the entire Weasley clan, and truthfully Harry as well, who had considered little Ginny to be like a sister to him. It was sad to no longer see her red head bouncing around the village after her gangly brothers, and Harry fervently agreed with the Weasleys that the archaic law had to change.
With a final wave at Hermione and Ron (who was still in mid spit-inducing shout about the injustice), Harry took off in a sprint toward home, worrying that he had stayed out too long. Aunt Petunia would definitely make him miss dinner for this!
Harry knew every short cut in the tiny mountain village of Hogsmeade, though he tended to take the path that didn't pass by Mister Snape's apothecary and rare book shop (the current village rumor was that he liked to boil and eat children). Harry, being sixteen and clearly not a child, hadn't really believed the rumor, especially since Hermione considered it ridiculous. But he had admitted to himself that the man's black as pitch eyes were eerie when they fell on a boy, so he avoided the man as best he could.
Luckily, as the Dursleys considered books to be the devils work he wasn't allowed near the store even if he'd wanted to. Which he most certainly did not!
He'd been only a stones throw from home when he'd noticed a shadow in the alley ahead. As luck would have it, he'd found a Dursley.
Unfortunately it was Dudley Dursley.
"Oi! It's the Freak!"
"…Dudley," Harry replied evenly, though he felt a prickle of unease as Piers and Malcolm began circling. Also uncomfortable was the foul smell that had suddenly arrived along with Dudley and his friends. It was like being smothered in a blanket that had been washed in rotten eggs and stale breath.
This was due to the fact that Dudley and his gang followed the teachings of Preacher Cornelius. He was a man who stuck to the tradition, which included the precept that bathing was an abomination. Compared to the rather fine clothing Dudley and his friends wore, Harry always felt like a dirty peasant. Well, except Harry actually kept himself and his clothing clean, even though the fabric was thin enough to be almost see-through in the wrong light (which is why he avoided direct sunlight around certain people.)
"Just the thing we need now that our ale's gone!" Dudley crowed. Harry then noticed several brown jugs littering the alleyway, clearly stolen from The Hog's Head pub. Harry gulped. Dudley sober was bad enough!
"Dudley, I have to hurry, Aunt Petunia needs these," Harry argued in vain, holding the basket potatoes and fresh herbs tightly to his chest. Dudley had perfected the art of upending where baskets and Harry were concerned.
Dudley laughed. So did Malcolm and Piers.
"Awe…you're late aren't you Harry-kins? Late, late, late. Mum'll kill you." Dudley and the gang found this to be guffaw inducing funny.
"Look, just let me bring these to Aunt Petunia," Harry ground out.
Dudley leaned closer, his round blue eyes fixed on Harry. "But why are you so late Harry-kins, unless you were dawdling? Oh! I know! You were crying with Weasley about his bint of a sister getting turned into Dragon chow, weren't you?"
"Oh, look at him! He's mad! Didn't know runts had tempers!" Crowed Piers.
"Yeah Potter, d'ya get mad thinking about Ginny getting 'boned'?" Dennis chortled, obviously quite pleased with his play on words. Apparently equating sex with brutal killing by a viscous, mindless beast was 'funny'. Harry growled.
"Shoulda popped her cherry when you had the chance," Dudley slurred maliciously.
"I said, shut up!" Harry shouted, wrenching away from the grimy hands on his shoulders, but struggling just caused the two to grab him more firmly, leaving him with no wiggle room.
Dudley's eyes suddenly lit as a stray thought flittered through his sluggish brain. "You know, it's almost time for the next sacrifice. Preacher's been getting the list ready for the virgins. I wonder if any virgin would do?"
Harry stilled for a second as Dudley's friends processed his words, watching comprehension slowly roll over them like dawn on a particularly murky lake.
"Yeah…yeah," Piers replied. "I bet the dragon'd eat anyone and everyone knows there's not a bigger virgin in the whole village than Potty here."
"He kinda looks like a girl too with those pretty green eyes," Dennis muttered, squinting at Harry from inches away. Harry desperately tried getting away as Dennis gave him the creeps.
Dudley's round face suddenly filled his vision, evil mirth making him look like a demented baby.
"I think the village will thank us if we give the dragon his treat a little early this year."
And thus Harry's troubles began, for he was soon to learn that Dudley and his gang were the least of his worries.
Thanks to Cimmerian Sorceress for the beta!