Story Name: The Sky Above

Prologue Two: Empty

Warnings: Massively AU, OOC occasionally, blood gore and murder, slash, het, torture, cursing, graphic imagery, general strangeness, creature!Harry, dragon shenanigans, and anything else I might think of!

Summary: The sky has called to him from the first time he flew. And the dragons have called to him from the first time he saw one hatch. So is it really any shock that he would want to become one, really? But no matter how powerful, a wizard cannot turn into a magical animal. But Fate has plans for Harry Potter, and as he dies she takes his soul and puts it into a new body. One that will feel more like himself than his old body had ever been. But dreams rarely have happy endings, and this is no exception. And so he finds himself drawn into another war, but this one is so much worse and he finds that he has to win at all costs. Because the ending will be so much worse if he loses than he or anyone else can think. The talking dragons are the least of his problems now…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Temeraire. There will also be mentions of How to Train Your Dragon and Elder Scrolls: Skyrim, which I also don't own. If I did I would be filthy rich and would be the proud owner of baby Toothless/Temeraire hybrids. Since neither of these things are true I must not own them, so very sad.

Authors Notes: Okay, so this is actually kind of like a second prologue. It is a lot shorter, and I apologize, but this is how it was supposed to be. Next chapter will actually have more in it and there might actually be the beginnings of a plot if you close one eye and squint. Until then, enjoy this chapter, which gives a bit more of an in-depth look at Harry. As always, read and review. And look at the note at the bottom please!

Dying was easy.

Sirius had once told him, long ago, that dying was like falling asleep. It was easy and painless, and so simple to do. Close your eyes and let everything fall away until there was nothing but darkness and silence. It should have been scary, and he should have rebelled against it with every fiber of his being. He should have wanted something different. But the simple truth of the matter was that he didn't. He was old and grey-haired, and he had lived a long full life with many happy moments and very few regrets. After all, one hundred and thirty-four wasn't that short of a life span in the least. And he was glad that almost a hundred of those years had dragons in them.

So dying was simple and easy for him. Like going to sleep after a nice long day. And the darkness didn't bother him in the least. It was peaceful and he would have smiled if he could have. He stayed that way for a little while, just basking in the peace and the silence. He wasn't entirely sure, but for a long while, he knew, he could have spent eternity there, and he would be happy. Eyes closed and relaxed while nothing could bother him, nothing could touch him there.

But was death supposed to stay like that? Endless darkness, endless silence?

Harry wasn't quite sure.

It wasn't like this the first time he died, where he woke up naked on a cold white floor after a few moments of darkness. Surely he wasn't going to wake up in a clean and empty King's Cross Station this time, but he expected something more at the very least. Especially after however long he had been in the dark already. Seemed like several hours at the very least.

After all he remembered another man telling him how death was going to be his next adventure. If anything it was turning out to be more of a bore. And where was his family? His friends? Everyone who had died before him? He could have sworn that the afterlife would be a little bit more friendly and welcoming.

But it was nothing like that. As a matter of fact, it was nothing at all.

Maybe he was missing something. Surely death was more than just a lot of darkness and silence. Maybe he had to wake up, open his eyes and see. So he did. Or, rather, Harry thought he did. There was no change. So he tried again.

And again.

It hadn't been this hard to wake up the first time. But then, that wasn't really death in so much as he was just in a strange state of semi-unconsciousness or astral plane walking or some other thing that no one could really do but he could because he is Harry Potter.

Maybe in the afterlife he had no eyes because for the life of him he couldn't get them to open. So he tried reaching out to see if he was laying on something and came across the same problem. How does one tell if they are lying down if they have no hands to feel with? He couldn't feel his hands, or his arms, or his legs. And it was starting to worry him a bit. Death was a bit more complicated than he first thought.

He stopped trying to move or do anything because that was getting him nowhere fast. Instead he just laid there – or floated there as the case may have been. He would have to think of something because this nothingness would drive him crazy sooner or later.

Most likely sooner than later.

He decided that death was something like a sense deprivation chamber. He was floating in black nothingness. He couldn't see anything, hear anything, or touch anything. And it was soothing and hard to handle at the same time. He wanted something else, anything else. He also wondered why in he world anyone would put themselves through something like this. Was there a meaning behind it? Maybe this was Purgatory, or something. Or whatever that in-between place was called where the soul waited until it was judged.

In that case, there was a really long waiting line. Maybe he should get one of those paper number tickets? Harry wished that he could have at least waited with someone. Then he might not have been so bored. Or so lonely.

He missed his dragons.

Hell, he even missed bloody Malfoy! And that was saying something since they still didn't get along, even after Harry testified for him at court and managed to get him out of a sentence to Azkaban.

If he could groan and punch something he would. Heck, he didn't even have to punch anything, but if he could just make some sort of sound, some sort of movement. He would give anything to have an eyebrow just so he could feel it twitching! As it was all he did was float. The darkness was everywhere. He couldn't escape it.

He was going to go mad. Maybe he already was mad. After all, wasn't he just wishing he had a twitchy eyebrow, and who in their right minds would want one of those? He couldn't even remember how long he had been in the damn darkness. A second, an hour, an eon? Time passed strangely. If it even passed at all.

And wasn't that a thought that made him wish he could get rip roaring drunk in a way he hadn't been since the war first ended. If time never passed then he would never get out of there, and if he could never get out of there, well, that was a thought not even worth thinking about unless he wanted to go so completely mad that he would be completely unrecognizable.

But, as previously mentioned, that was something he would not even bother to think about. There was no use in worrying over something that might not happen. Besides, he was Harry Potter, and if there was a way out of this God forsaken emptiness, then he would find it. He only needed some time, and well, he had a whole lot of that. He would wait and think a little while longer, and if he had yet to think of a way out of this situation by the time he started losing his mind, then he would start worrying.

Oh dear, patience … that was worrisome indeed.

He was remembering things he had long forgotten about. People and places and things that had once been so important to him but had faded with his time in the darkness. He reached back, searching, scouring every corner of his mind until he could find something important to think of, to hold on to in the vast emptiness. Something that would help keep him sane and remind him of being Harry.

He remembered how bright Hermione was back when they were younger, always helping him out with his homework even when he didn't ask for it. She grew up into such a strong witch and woman, a fierce mother and a good friend. Even if she had horrible naming ideas. SPEW, honestly? At least when she became an Unspeakable they were the ones who named things.

And her children. Beautiful little Rose and strong, confident Hugo. They were smart, just like their mother, and so playful when they were younger. They were the best godchildren a person could hope for. Even if Hermione never let him take them out to see the dragons. He was sure they would have liked it. Or Rose would have, she was bold and brave and every bit a Griffendor. She would have gone right up to one and asked for a ride. Her brother was a bit more laid back, and probably wouldn't have wanted to get to close.

Then there was Ron, and all the good times they had when they were kids in Hogwarts getting into trouble and causing Hermione to tug her hair in frustration. He was a loud person except when playing chess, and even after all those years Harry still didn't really understand the game. But he also remembered Ron's fickle nature.

Ron wasn't the best of friends but he was very useful to have around anyway. Not that he would ever tell him that. If he ever saw him again. Which was beginning to look very unlikely. It was best to start thinking of something else. Something safer.

Ginny, he had loved her, once upon a time. Back before the war, back when things had been simple and he hadn't been filled with an uncontrollable love of dragons. They had tried getting back together, for a year they had tried to make it work, but in the end it was all for naught. It was nothing against Ginny, but he had loved dragons more, and she couldn't understand his need to move to Romania. To work in the dragon sanctuary. She had had her heart set on him being an Auror and them getting married and popping out a whole horde of little Potters.

And yeah, kids had sounded nice and all, but he just couldn't turn down his dream. Not after everything he had been through.

Harry wished he could sigh because thinking about Ginny always made him do so.

But while Ginny had turned away and left him, Charlie and the workers at the Romanian Dragon Reserve had welcomed him with open arms and pats on the back. Life had been looking up then. And, after a while, it had turned even brighter.

Teddy.

He was smart like his father and had his mother's love and bubbly personality. Unfortunately, he could not walk in a straight line to save his life. Another thing he had picked up from his mother. And while his senses where better than average, everyone was relieved to find that Teddy had not inherited his father's lycanthropy.

Teddy, on the other hand, had thought werewolves were cool, as long as they took their potion. Such a smart and wonderful little boy he was. His parents would have been so proud. Heavens know Harry was.

He had also developed a love of dragons as well, but that was mainly Harry's fault. If he hadn't taken the boy on for a ride on Hedwig when he was so young and impressionable. Well, it would have been different, maybe. But he wasn't complaining. Andromeda, on the other hand, was probably still upset about it. He had never seen the older woman so angry before. But it was perfectly safe. Harry would have never let anything happen to little Teddy.

It did, however, take him a while to get feeling back in his extremities after her wrathful hexing. She may have been older, but she was still spry as ever when dealing out punishment.

Still, totally worth it.

But anyway, Teddy had developed a love of dragons as well. His love just branched off differently. He tended to collect things about dragons, or things that had dragons in them. Books, pictures, even little sculptures of dragons. Hell, Teddy even went further. He turned to muggle movies and video games. And, of course, he had Harry watch and play them as well.

The movies were varied and interesting. Eragon, Dragonheart, Reign of Fire, How to Train Your Dragon, Beowulf. Teddy didn't care if it was meant for kids or not. If a dragon was involved, so was he. He liked the more realistic dragons the best. But Harry, he liked the ones where humans and dragons were friends. Teddy called him a softy.

Maybe he was right.

But the video games were another matter. Most of them had you fighting dragons. Teddy's favorite was a game called Skyrim, the fifth in a series. You had to kill several dragons and steal their souls. Harry wasn't sure what to think about that, but the dragons themselves were kind of badass. If he could be a dragon he would like to have the abilities of the ones on Skyrim. They were just so damn varied and useful.

And the creators had developed their own 'Dragon Language' that Teddy had really gotten into for a while. Harry had had to learn the language as well just so he could know what the heck his godson was saying half the time.

But he still felt badly when he killed one of the dragons in the game. He was certain Hedwig knew as well.

She was very pissy that week.

Harry never played it again.

That, however, did not mean he didn't help Teddy out every now and again. What can he say, the dragons were badass.

The darkness wasn't quiet anymore, but that wasn't a bad thing. It seemed like there were voices, far out into the dark. But for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out what they were saying. He strained his not-ears as hard as he could, and then tried to listen just a little bit harder. After a while he came to realize that all of those voices he kept hearing were, in fact, just a singular voice speaking in different languages.

It felt like years before he was able to get his brain to understand what the voice was saying, but when he finally managed it he was quite a bit stunned to realize that he was being told stories. The voice was male and he was telling Harry about battles, about dragons and about training for war. It was a little odd but Harry was too happy to not be alone that he didn't really care that much what the voice was talking about.

It was even longer before he realized it might be a good idea to try to talk back. So he did, he told his own stories about dragons and war. He spoke whenever the other voice wasn't talking, so he wasn't quite sure whether the other was actually listening to him or if it had figured out how to leave and had done so. And again, Harry found that he didn't really care. He was just happy that he could hear himself talking again. Even if he was certain that his voice sounded a little bit differently than the vague remembrance he had of it.

But who really cared about little details like that?

He was just happy that he wasn't really alone anymore. He could almost feel himself perk up when the voice came back and started talking again.

He listened intently to the stories of a man named Lawrence who was a captain and very important to the voice. Harry didn't quite know what kind of captain this Lawrence was but it seemed important, and the voice mentioned flying. Harry liked that idea.

He liked that idea a lot.

He was in an egg.

Harry thought he might have been in shock, but since it had been so long, he wasn't really sure he knew what shock was anymore.

So he would just go along with the fact that he was in an egg and the voice- Temiare or whatever the guy said it was- said he would hatch soon. Maybe that was why the darkness had started to lighten up a little bit. It was a bit more red than it had been beforehand. And the large emptiness had slowly become a rather small and confined wet place.

And he could move, only, half the time, he wasn't sure what it was that he was moving. It felt like there was a lot more of him than there had once been, a few limbs too many. And those limbs that he was using were longer, stranger, better than they had been. And he was fairly certain his neck wasn't supposed to be able to bend like that.

But then again, after everything he had been through, he wasn't really surprised anymore.

He was so confined; the egg was way too tight. He had to get out, and he had to get out now.

He was suffocating, he was cramped, and his whole body hurt, and he was hungry. But all of that was outweighed by the singular fact that he had been in there long enough. Harry's patience had worn off a long time ago and now he was going to get out of that God forsaken egg and he was going to breathe actual air.

So he started pushing out with his arms and legs, testing the shell and trying to find its weak spot. He was moving around, furiously, aggravated, shoving and scratching and head-butting the inside of the shell until he finally, finally, heard a faint crack.

Tired, he waited a few moments before attacking once more, this time focusing on the area where he had heard the cracking sound.

It was like being in the emptiness all over again. It must have only been a few minutes but to Harry it felt like eons before the shell was cracked enough that he could see light. It was colorless, but so bright. He felt the longing to be outside and in the air like a physical ache. He drew himself back and gathered as much of his strength as he could before surging forward with every bit of his power.

And unceremoniously breaking out of the shell and sprawling himself all over the grass in a mess. His limbs were every which way and as he tried to concentrate on that white thing in front of his face he was surprised to see it was the spade-like end of a dragon's tail. More importantly, the spade-like end of his tail.

Bloody hell. He was a freaking dragon!

And while a large black dragon was staring down curiously at the small white hatchling that was cursing out a being known as Fate- in a language that the larger dragon known as Temeraire had never heard before- somewhere else that very same being was raising a glass of wine into the air and saying happily-

"You don't know the half of it!"

Chapter Length: 2920 words originally; 3030 words edited

Another Note: I hope you all aren't too disappointed in this. I promise that the next chapter will be longer. And you will all find out what Harry the Dragon looks like! Also, to anyone who cares or even reads this thing, I need some help on an idea for Harry the Dragon's name. So if you have an idea drop me a review or PM and don't forget to give me a meaning if it has one. Thank you so much.

Another 'Nother Note: There have been several good ideas, but nothing that quite jumps out at me yet. So please, keep the ideas coming. I'm still looking!