Prologue

I should have known that my plan was going to go wrong, they all do in the end. Hermione always said it was my Potter luck. But I doubt even someone with true sight could have foreseen how wrong my plan was truly going to go. Well, Professor Trelawny did keep insisting that I was doomed or such. Perhaps she did see it after all.

I could still feel the heat of the dragon fire on my skin even as my lungs burned from the cold and I opened my eyes to pure white. It was so bright that I had to blink away the brightness before I realized that the white was actually snow. Moments ago I was in the tournament ring surrounded by stone and fire, and now I was kneeling in thick snow, white as far as I could see.

It was stunning, I have never seen so much snow. It covered the ground like a massive blanket and blended into the horizon seamlessly. I could only sit there in stunned silence as my hands clenched into fists on my thighs. A puff of air thick and white like fog left me and a sudden shiver pulled me from my wonder.

I sniffled, my nose turning red and beginning to water in the harsh cold as I struggled to stand. I pushed off the ground with my hands and at first I couldn't feel anything as my fingers broke through the thick layer of snow, but seconds later I could feel it like fire on my skin. I stood quickly, cradling my frozen fingers to my chest as I struggled to maintain my balance. At least the cold took the sting out of the cuts littering my hands.

My memories struggled to the surface as I glanced around in a daze. Snowflakes clung to my hair, turning dark where it melted with the ash still clinging to the strands. I had been in the arena, forced into the competition I wanted nothing to do with. I had thought I was being so clever, choosing to compete by not competing. Hermione warned me that it could backfire…I wish I had listened to her.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" I mumbled, pinching my lips together and then biting the lower one when I realized that they were going numb from the cold.

The question was asked without expecting a response, but to my surprise I received one. "You happened, Miss Potter," the well-known drawl made me flinch in both reflex and shock.

"Snape!?" I turned so quickly I almost lost my balance, eyes darting around the barren land searching for him. I stumbled over backwards, tripping over the nest behind me and nearly falling into it. My hands caught on the outside of the blackened rock, melted with dragon fire into a bowl and cutting into my already bleeding hands. The large form behind it had me ducking back into the snow, fear flooding my veins and my heart thudding loudly in my ears. I waited of it to move, but after a long moment when nothing happened, I cautiously peaked my head over the lip of the nest. "Snape?"

It wasn't Snape, the thing on the other side of the nest was the Horntail. Her massive form like a small mountain, dark against the white landscape. I blinked at it in confusion as it lay there unmoving and then I remembered what it had told me, in that other place. Dead, not dying. So it was true, the dragon was dead after all.

"It's Professor Snape to you, Potter," he replied just as I started to stand back up, my eyes darting around the barren wasteland. Large flakes of snow were slowly drifting down from the cloud covered sky and already I could see it begin to settle over the nest and the dead brood mother. I was beginning to think I was hallucinating my least favorite teacher.

I looked around again, now convinced I was starting to lose my mind. "Okay?" I started hesitantly. "Where?"

"Here!" He snapped, the tone already throwing me right back into the potions classroom and I found myself bristling in indignity just from habit. "Down here, you dundering idiot."

I let my gaze fall down to the nest by my feet and only saw grey eggs beginning to be dusted with white. A foggy huff of irritation left me before I realized part of the white was moving. I crouched down, my legs nearly buckling as my thighs burned from exertion. I could feel the muscles twitching from overuse even as they started to stiffen from the cold.

Once closer to the ground, I could see other colors than just white. There was a deep purple, shades of blues, and a lighter glacial teal moving with the bit of white in the snow. It wasn't until a pair of dark purple eyes laced with bright green that actually glowed – because what the fuck – blinked up at me that I finally put the pieces together. I was looking at a tiny dragon. "Don't just stare, you imbecile, assist me up!"

And the little reptile was speaking to me with Professor Snape's voice.

I rubbed at my eyes, my cold fingers stinging the sensitive skin as I pressed in hard enough to see spots. When they cleared, the image hadn't changed. A tiny dragon was still talking to me with my professor's voice.

"Uh…" was the only reasonable reply my brain could begin to put together as I gazed at the impossible image before me.

"Eloquent, as always Miss Potter," his voice drawled in irritation. "But if you could find time in your busy day to assist me up, I would gratefully appreciate it." Snape bit out the words as if he was insulted by the fact he was forced to speak them.

"Uh…" I replied again, but my hands fluttered forward before settling uncertainly back into my lap. "Snape, I mean Professor," I started cautiously. "It's just…"

"What is it, Potter?" He snapped, his little head swaying side to side as his voice took on a hissing quality to it not unlike Parseltongue.

"It's…you're…well, you're tiny."

The purple eyes blinked up at me, a clear membrane sliding across each eye with the exaggerated slowness in the movement. Apparently a dragon could display a proper amount of annoyance with only their face. The last dragon that was annoyed with me just tried to set me on fire. If Snape knew how to breathe fire, I think I would have already been a pile of ash and blackened bone.

"Look," I spoke quickly before he could think of something else to say that would be along the lines of my questionable intelligence. "I mean that literally," and I scooped my hands underneath him and lifted before I lost my courage.

I stood, his small body incredibly warm in my hands, chasing away the lingering cold as I pulled him up to eye level. The dragon spluttered in indignation, dual thumbs on either wing digging into my exposed wrists as his tail thrashed behind him. He was perched awkwardly on my palms, swaying back and forth as if uncertain how to balance himself.

Though the size of a small cat with a tail three times again his length, he weighed only a few ounces at most. My arms didn't strain at all to hold him, and yet I found myself pulling them in closer until he was only inches from my torso. The heat he put off was more than enough to chase away the chill that had settled in.

"What is this?!" He shouted in alarm, a duel toned shriek echoed behind it, leaving my ears ringing. "Potter! What have you done?"

And there was the crux of it. I could feel his panic edging into my mind and suddenly I remembered everything. Oh Merlin, what had I done?