**I own nothing except my own OC's. Credit belongs on to the magnificent JK Rowling.**

1. The Beginning

First there is a dragon in an unknown section on a reclusive continent. She is a mighty and fearsome creature with sharp ivory teeth, wicked blue flames jetting from her muscular mouth, and glittering red and orange scales surrounding her enormous size. To think of her in any state than indignant pride would be horrendously false, but unfortunately the day has come. Today she is sad, more than that but gut-wrenchingly heartbroken. She has not only lost her mate but now her eggs, her babies! And it was all because of those disgusting, smelly humans. First they trick and kill her beloved mate and now they come and steal her eggs and even steal her as well. But being who she is she fought letting out flames and hell fire to melt the sturdiest of steel. The men retreated, but not before one coward cursed her in her eyes and made her unconcious. When she had awoke, she was still in her nest, but her eggs had been taken. And her she stays, curled in her nest, roaring a tune only others of such sadness could understand. It was then she wished for not just love to give but also love received.

Second there is boy. A young boy by the look of his poor stature. His clothes where so big they hung off his slim frame while another boy lounged in front of a television, this boy's clothes actually cling, quite desprately, to his obese frame. While the large one guffawed at cartoons, the small one was in the kitchen on a small stepping stool just barely reaching the back burner as the kettle whistled incessently since the front two were filled with eggs and fatty bacon. The whistling apparently caught the attention of the young boys guardians, a woman to be exact as she came charging into the kitchen screeching at the poor boy to hurry up and quiet the kettle. She was moderately tall but most of her height was accounted for by her overly large neck giving her more of a horse-ish look. Her husband wasn't any better looking only like a much larger version of the fat boy in front of the telly with less neck and more hair underneath his pudgy nose. Thankfully the little boy looked nothing like his relatives with his small and, plainly, unhealthy skeletal frame, large almond shaped eyes that were the most electric sapphire green framed by thick and curly lashes. His hair was just as curly and black as the lashes never laying flat but curling all around his head in a majestic halo. The only thing that messed with his perfection was a small scar, shaped pereptively like a bolt of lightning, but was thankfully hidden beneath his curled hair. Currently his large eyes widened more so with fear as his aunt continued to berate him, his parents, and his intelligence as he struggled to not only finish the eggs, not burn the bacon, but also reach the ellusive kettle to make them all tea. Well, not all, for he would not get tea, he would probably not get anything if he didn't hurry! Finally his tiny fingers grasped the handle of the kettle, but what he hadn't known was how hot the handle would be and yelped as it scorched his hand and dropped the water kettle on the skillet of eggs which then crashed to the floor. If his eyes hadn't already widened they were now bugging from his small frame. With a loud screeching, "VERNON!" the fat husband lumbered into the kitchen and eyed the mess by the stove with darkening small eyes while his face and jowls turned a rainbow of colors most of them of reds and purples. The small boy was now off the stool and backing quickly into the corning spouting apologies and promises of cleanliness but all was for naught as he was backhanded violently and grabbed by his hair and thrown into the small space under the stairs. He laid on his bed, if you could call a blanket and a pet matress from when Marge's bulldog used to not sleep with her a bed, and cried about what an awful and freakish child he was to not do even one thing right. It was then he wished not only for no more pain of love given and love received.

Third is another little boy only this boy's circumstance is widly different from the other's. His clothes were not large and disgusting hand-me downs but finely pressed, laundered, and tailored clothes made to fit his growing frame. He looked much more healthy than the other boy as well, where the had arms made of sticks and ribs visibly seen, this boy was pleasently thin meaning he most certainly never missed a meal but also never over indulged. Where the other boy had chores, all this boy had to do was sit in his room and play with his hundreds of toys and the house elves at his disposal. The boy's face also looked remarkably different from the others. His features were more sharpened, even at his young age, his eyes, too, had the largeness of childhood but were more tame and were the color of sterling silver, and his hair was of the lightest of blonde ever seen on a human. His hair wasn't curly but rod straight and hung loosely around his face long enough for the ends to tickle his chin whenever he shook his head. Which was what he was currently doing as he impatently explained to the house elf in front of him that when playing with the quidditch player set it was perfectly acceptable that they fight and or push each other off their limited edition brooms. The elf however shook his head sporatically saying it was bad his young master was forced to see such violence and hurridly cleaned up the mess of dolls its magic being cancelled by the elf's. The young boy pouted but said nothing knowing how this particular elf coudl be when faced with "violence." Instead he used the same voice his father had been making him practice and drawled a question of what they were going to play now. The elf tugged one of it's bat like ears and popped away only to pop back with a large book in its hands. The boy squealed in delight before blushing and returning to his forced stoic state but was still vibrating with excitement. He had just been given lessons on how to read and his most favorite book to read was Tales of the Beedle and the Bard his mother and father claimed it a plebian book and refused to read it but he loved it. He hurridly grabbed the book and climbed into one of the cushioned chairs in his play room and began to read, using his finger to guide him, the story of a cackling witch and an ignorant king. Just as the king was about to perform the boy's door was opened with a bang and in came the boy's father. The boy so resembled the older man right down to his long white blonde hair. However instead of childish delight there was harsh coldness in these grey eyes which then turned to molten anger as he recognized what his son to be reading. He crossed into the room with powerful strides and snatched the book from his hands throwing it into the roaring fire. He ignored his child's cries to instead place him under a mild pain curse also ignoring his childs screams. He stops only after ten seconds and asks rather calmly where the book was found and why was he reading it. His house elf then managed to speak admitting to have brought the book and allowing young master to read it. No expression was on the father's face as a cruciatus was thrown at the elf nor was there one when a sickeningly green light hit the elf or when the shell of what it used to be now layed on his son's lap. The boy looked at his father with wide silver eyes brimming with tears fear laced through his entire body. The father only told the boy, in soft dulcet tones, how disgusted he was and how he brings shame upon there most ancient name by reading such muggle-filled drivel. He then turned and walked out of his child's room but not before locking the door and barring any house elves from getting inside. The little boy could only hold his most trusted and loved elf close to him as he cried. It was then he wished not only of love given but of love received.

In flash of light both little boys were lifted from their lives and instantly placed in the nest of the poor she-dragon. At first she growled at the newcomers, Human! her mind cried but then she actually saw them for what they were. Her second chance, her hatchlings. It was then the lives of them all, the dragoness, the orphan, and the scorned, were changed forever and for the better.

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