Lucius Malfoy blinked. Several times. Still clutching the ancient amulet
above his heart, he looked disbelievingly at what was a very handsomely
outfitted workshop. He looked around quickly, but he was alone in the
" he said, pocketing the rune-covered stone and
making his way toward a bench where an array of carved metal boxes sat
in differing stages of completion. Iron gleamed lustrously and silver
sparkled in various recesses as Lucius stared at chalices, sword-hilts,
chain mail, a crown
He must have said the spell horribly wrong to be wherever he was. But
that was impossible. He had researched it thoroughly, even translating
the sigils, or so he thought. Surely his ancestors hadn't made a
mistake. No. They were Malfoys. Being able to trace precious items was
in their blood. He reached out his hand toward a beautiful filigreed
"If you value that hand and care to keep it, you will not put your
fingers any closer."
A gruff voice sounded behind him and Lucius spun around, his robe flying
as he instinctively shook his wand down his sleeve. It went straight
into his hand, but was promptly snatched away. Lucius paused, suddenly
defenseless and rather disconcertedly inches away from a glistening
"How did you get into my workshop, Elf?" the rumbling voice
spat below the wicked blade.
"Elf?" Lucius took precious seconds to avert his eyes down the
weapon. The axe was wielded by a very short, very hairy, and very angry
what? Man? Surely not. Had he managed to send himself to a
time when garden gnomes had learned to arm themselves?
"I am Lucius Malfoy," he said in his most commanding and
authoritative voice. "What in Merlin's beard are you?"
"What did you say, Elf?" the troll-like creature rumbled,
moving the axe closer to Lucius' face and stowing his precious wand in
its wide belt.
"I am not an Elf. I am a pure-blood Wizard."
Dark, oily eyes squinted at him from under bushy sienna eyebrows.
Lucius thought, garnering all spare mind power
toward his wand, attempting to summon it through will alone. At least
I'm making some sense to the gnome.
"Yes. A Wizard. And you
" Lucius paused, hoping the evolved gnome would illuminate
him, since he did still possess his wand. For the time being.
"Favík," Lucius echoed, wondering why his wand was still
resolutely stuck in the gnome's belt, but grateful that the hairy thing
had also sheathed his axe.
"Favík, of the house of Vram. At your service." He bowed,
his long beard brushing the floor.
Lucius stuck out his lower teeth and sucked on his upper lip, something
he did only subconsciously and only when exceedingly perplexed. Which
was almost never. Gnomes didn't have names, did they? He was still
puzzling over his situation when the creature righted itself.
"Come, master wizard!" The gnome was quite cheery now.
"You shall join us for dinner and some ale. My apologies for
thinking that you were an Elf. We don't see many wizards, and they have
looked far older than you appear."
"No, that's understandable," Lucius said, his blue eyes fixed
on his wand, still out of reach. "I must have caused quite a
fright, showing up here
" he purposefully let his voice trail
off, the tone begging for clues.
"Erebor?" the gnome offered, helpfully.
"Ah, yes. Erebor." Lucius nodded his well-groomed head in
sympathy, then turned to precede the hairy thing out of the workroom,
Favík's arm gesturing toward a corridor. Lucius wasn't looking at
"Mire and mudbloods!" he swore, having smashed his forehead
against the lintel. He winced as he rubbed at the new tender spot above
"Oh! Do be careful!" Favík said a bit too late and in a
decidedly not sorry voice. "These halls are obviously made to
Dwarvish standards, not those of tall wizards."
"Of course, of course, think nothing of it," Lucius answered,
forcing a congenial tone while foul epithets ran through his
He was at a loss.
Lucius followed the Dwarf down several corridors, the sound of their
footfalls ricocheting from the stone. The ceiling was high enough that
Lucius could walk without stooping, and since this
Favík/gnome/Dwarf-creature remained silent, he took the opportunity
to absorb as much detail about his surroundings as he could.
Sturdy-looking wooden doors dotted the otherwise plain walls, save
torches burning in brackets. Each door had a single metal rune on it,
but despite his extensive studies of myriad languages, especially those
known for their potency in curses, Lucius couldn't begin to guess what
The Dwarf led them up a set of stairs to a high-arched entryway, the
massive doors open to the inside. Lucius kept his composure, but he
couldn't help biting his tongue. There were dozens of the hirsute
things, sitting at long tables and eating from noticeably ornate iron
plates. He'd never seen so much bushy hair in all his life. Every last
one of them had a long beard and hair trailing down its back. Lucius
itched to get his hand on his wand and perform a massive shaving spell,
but his fingers grasped at air. The creatures stared at him, so he stood
even straighter and returned their gazes with a haughty glare.
They stopped at the end of the board in front of a Dwarf in a
high-backed chair, a large, gem-encrusted goblet in his hand.
Lucius thought, though he couldn't help but admire
the quality of workmanship. Once he figured out where on Merlin's green
earth he had ended up, he could find a way to get one. It certainly
would go nicely with those patens from his great-uncle in
"Náin, King of Erebor. I present Malfoy the
Favík gestured toward Lucius, bowing deeply at the waist to the
Lucius pondered. Now we're getting
With a flourish, Lucius swirled back his robes as he dipped forward
slightly, showing both his impeccably tailored Italian purple pants as
well as the fact that he was disarmed, though he had every intent to
remedy the latter as soon as possible.
"Lucius Malfoy." He paused, wondering what he could add that
would be to his advantage among these short, furry creatures.
"Wealthiest wizard in all of England."
The dark eyes of the king glittered. He might have been smiling, but it
was impossible to tell.
"I did not think Wizards were interested in riches," he said
in a low voice. "Regardless, you have come at just the right time.
Obviously you are here to assist us with our dragon
Lucius stared at the king, his pale eyes widening in the ensuing
implicating silence. "Dragon troubles?" he repeated, wishing
wistfully that he had his ebony walking stick. He was damn fine at
toying with it as a diversion.
"Yes. We've fought several of them off, but that only seems to make
the rest of them more bold." Náin pointed a meaty finger at
the wizard. "Surely you know how to rid us of their
"But, of course," Lucius said immediately, feigning insult.
his mind whirled. I don't know a bloody
thing about dragons. Dark Magic, yes; discipline, most certainly; what
flavor marmalade Lord Voldemort liked best on his toast in the
A thought came to him. "Tonight, this Favík here will bring me
a map of your lands and the location of the dragon caves."
"Lairs," Favík grumbled. "Not in
," Lucius emphasized pompously, "may
use different terms."
Both Favík and Náin looked dubious. Lucius supposed that was
their expression, anyway; their eyebrows really could use a trim. Or
bushwhacking. He plowed ahead.
"Cave, lair. Regardless, I shall need a map, since this is my first
visit to your realm. If your hall and talented subjects are any
indication, then I will be most overwhelmed."
The king's face brightened at the compliment, not picking up on its
"I shall also need to have my wand returned to me," Lucius said
pointedly to Favík, extending his hand in a commanding
The Dwarf looked over at King Náin, who steepled his fingers at the
top of his beard.
"Well yes, of course," the king snapped gruffly. "How else is he to
wield his power without his-"
"Wand. My very powerful wand," Lucius interrupted.
Favík made a very displeased sound in the back of his throat. "He
did not ask permission to enter my workshop, and had I not stopped him,
he would have touched an unfinished piece. You know that is déandorkh
The last word sounded as though the creature was chewing gravel.
They must have their own language!
Lucius marveled. Quite advanced for
"He's a Wizard, not a Dwarf, and may not know of our ways," the king
insisted, displeasure in his voice.
"Fine." Favík took the wand from his belt and grudgingly handed it
to Lucius, who caressed it in a nearly obscene manner.
"Thank you, King Náin of Erebor. You will not regret this," Lucius
said, eyes flashing and fishing about in his mind for a hex that could
kill all of them at once. He looked around quickly and saw that the room
had filled during their discourse. It suddenly occurred to him that he
didn't know how to get back to the Manor. Perhaps if he did come up with
a way to eliminate these dragons which, with his wand back in his
possession, should be a fairly simple task, the hairy things could guide
him to another wizard, since obviously there were others here. And he
could probably talk this king into giving him a very pleasing reward. He
swept his robes around in the most elegant manner his could muster,
surprised at his change of heart even as he accepted it.
"Favík, please show the Wizard to a room on the lapidarist's
corridor," the king said, reaching down for his chalice. "A map and food
will be brought to you shortly."
Lucius nodded his head and followed Favík out of the dining area.
It was at their second set of stairs when his bladder insistently
reminded him that he needed a toilet. Now.
"Gno- Favík?" he asked, tapping the Dwarf on the shoulder with his
"What?" He spun around, appearing livid.
"I am in need of
" Lucius gestured as gracefully as
possible toward his groin.
The wizard rolled his eyes, exasperated. "A privy."
The Dwarf wrinkled his nose before pointing to an unmarked door they had
"Thank you, fine fellow."
Moments later, as Lucius relieved himself into a stunningly carved
urinal, he acknowledged that he was in a very odd situation.
Lucius awoke in the dark of night, sensing more than actually hearing
the thunder and rain dousing the land. Eventually he went back to sleep.
In the morning Lucius went to the same unmarked door, taking the
provided washcloth and soap before performing his morning ablutions. He
bathed, performed a shaving spell (he'd tried using his wand the night
before and was quite relieved that his magic still worked), then cast a
on himself, smiling at the way his platinum hair, cascading
across his shoulders, shone in the light. Back in his room, he did fifty
situps (how else was he to keep his figure?), stood balanced on his head
for ten minutes, then stared at the wall and contemplated both how
fabulous his life would be when Lord Voldemort was in power and wondered
how on Merlin's beard he was going to get back to it.
The gleam on his teeth seemed to alarm Favík. That, or perhaps it
was that Lucius heard the Dwarf coming down the corridor and burst open
the door to welcome it. Most unfortunately, the heavy oak swung into the
creature, which then proceeded to swear in its language. Lucius assumed
it was swearing; it all sounded as though the hairy thing were gargling
"My apologies, Favík," Lucius said, taking out a handkerchief so
the gnome-creature could wipe the blood off of his face. "Breakfast?"
The russet-haired Dwarf continued to mutter incomprehensible obscenities
in its own language as they made their way to the dining hall.
After a sturdy meal and stout coffee, Lucius followed the King and at
least two dozen Dwarves out into the desolate lands that flanked the
Iron Hills. The region had obviously been thirsty for rain; Lucius
breathed deeply the unique scent of petrichor, his refined nostrils
flaring in the grey morning.
"Today, we reap the wild wind!" he ejaculated, pale tresses blowing in
the rain-scented breeze.
King Náin stared at him. "You are
a Wizard?" he confirmed.
"Pure-blooded," Lucius assured him. "Thirteen generations."
Eyes one shade short of midnight gazed menacingly at him.
All of the Dwarves in the company hefted their blades and turned them in
their hands from left to right, the deadly iron shining in the dim
Three hours later, Lucius was rather sorry that he was wearing his dress
shoes and not his boots, but Merlin knew that he would never wince in
front of these Dwarf-people. At least he had his wand, which would
certainly stand them in good stead seeing as how he was supposed to take
out a whole slew of dragons. He'd done his homework the night prior, and
knew that there wouldn't be just one of the scaly, winged creatures.
There would be a whole pack, and they would probably try and talk him
out of killing them.
Why shouldn't they speak, just like these evolved gnomes?
Lucius flipped an annoying bit of fringe from his face and contemplated
his fate as he clomped across the well-trod earth. He was supposed to
have been at his third cousin once-removed's house, pilfering through
his designer silver; not surrounded by hairy, irritating beings that
wanted him to destroy a dragon's den. And not one of them had offered to
arm him, not one link of chain. Granted, the edges on their axes did
look quite sharp, but one hex from his wand should take care of the lot
of the fire-breathing animals.
Just around that time Lucius realized he had a really painful blister on
his pinkie toe on his right foot. Pixie's piss,
he swore to himself.
As he and the Dwarf convoy crested a hill, he saw the dragon caves. It
occurred to him that he really didn't want to into any kind of fray with
a full bladder.
"I'll be right with you," Lucius said, motioning elegantly to a copse of
trees. "Shan't be a moment."
The King huffed an impatient sigh as the rest of the entourage continued
down the path to their destination.
Imposing himself on an unwitting aspen, Lucius cast a translation spell
on himself, hoping it would work properly in this perplexing locale.
Merlin only knew where he really was; in looking at the charts and maps
that he'd acquired the night before, he seemed to be utterly lost. It
was England, he was nearly sure, but somehow he'd managed to end up in
an alternate reality far from anything he recognised. He was in this for
the jewelry, not battling dragons.
He slid his snake-embossed buttons back into their well-tailored
buttonholes and contemplated his plan of attack as he stalked back to
the Dwarvish phalanx. According to all that he'd read, dragons appeared
to hoard treasure, much of it stolen from the gnome-creatures. Hence
Operation GUBOST (Give Us Back Our Shiny Things) as Lucius now thought
of it. These wars over treasure had been going on for decades. Given the
size difference between Dwarf and Dragon, Lucius had come to the
conclusion that it was the Dwarves' pathological inclination to hold a
grudge that had kept them in a near-constant battle over their metal and
gems. Much like the Malfoy family, truth be told.
"Master Wizard!" The Dwarf-King addressed him, nodding his head toward
the dragon caves. "We will be waiting should you need us. May the luster
in your eyes never grow cold."
With a slight sneer, Lucius bowed forward, sweeping his robes as
menacingly as possible. "I will be certain to let you know if I need
He strode toward the largest cave, wand at the ready. He entered the
dark cavern without incident and stood in the gloom, letting his eyes
adjust to the lack of light. "Lumos,"
he incanted, raising his wand and
gesturing around the room. He made his way further in, treading gingerly
on the uneven earthen floor. The path led downward without many twists
and turns, Lucius determinedly following the trail into the bowels of
the mountain. Lucius had never actually seen a dragon up close, and he
wasn't relishing the thought of doing so now. He was an accomplished
Death Eater, however; as long as his magic held out, he had no qualms
throwing around a few Avada Kedavra's to get the job done. What worried
him more was how to get back to the Manor, being sure that he had an
opportunity to raid Favík's workroom before he left.
A deep rumbling noise drew him up short and he paused mid-step. The air
had become warmer, and with the back of his left hand, he wiped off the
sheen of sweat that beaded above his eyebrows. Lucius looked back over
his shoulder to see if any of the Dwarves had decided to follow him, but
he appeared to be completely alone. Excepting, of course, the
indubitably massive dragon he was about to disturb, interrogate, and
kill, presumably in that order.
"Come closer, sweet smelling one."
The voice was low and strangely endearing, though the smell of sulfur
that accompanied it nearly made Lucius gag. So the dragon could speak-
this was a definite coup. Lucius could bandy platitudes for as long as
need be. He rounded a corner and found himself peering into a vast room,
its roof so high that it vanished into the dark. Seconds later he
attention was trapped by a nearly blinding, luminous pile of
everything. Gold, silver, shields, crowns, baubles, chalices,
necklaces, chests, candlesticks, swords. On and on it went, enough to
make even a goblin forsake his beloved Gringott's. Sprawled on top of
his glittering guerdon was a decidedly contented looking dragon, his
honey-colored scales shining in the light of torches lit on the walls.
Chrysoprasic, half-lidded eyes drifted to where Lucius stood, marveling
both at the treasure and its colossal owner. The dragon opened its wings
as though to fluff them before settling them against his armored,
"I have not smelled your kind before," the dragon said, flicking out a
scarlet tongue, nostrils flaring. "What are you and how are you called?"
Lucius steeled his shoulders, his wand pointed directly between the
dragon's disconcerting green eyes. "I am a pure-blood Wizard. Lucius
Antonius Guillaume Malfoy, the Eighth."
The dragon let out a small puff of smoke which drifted lazily toward the
"I have not eaten wizard before," the dragon mused, its gaze focusing on
Lucius' wand. "I suspect you shall be quite tasty."
"I wouldn't count on that," Lucius replied haughtily, brandishing his
wand and wishing that sweat wasn't meandering from the small of his back
to places indelicate in his leather trousers. "Besides, you should know
that there is a small army of Dwarves outside of your cave, and they
seem determined to take back the treasure upon which you currently sit."
The dragon let out a sigh. "Ridiculous, hairy things- quite a bother,
really, though they are delightfully crunchy," it went on, raising its
eyelids so that three-quarters of its verdant orbs shone directly at
For his part, the wizard was suddenly distracted by two distinctly
unexpected and decidedly unpleasant sensations. He felt his mind being
probed and a millisecond later, closed it against the mental intrusion,
flabbergasted that a dragon had the ability of an accomplished
Legilimens. In addition, his hand felt as though it were on fire.
Lucius' mouth flew open in anticipation of raging against the
soft-spoken, death-wish-wanting dragon, but instead a torrent of painful
exclamations and profanity poured out.
"CIRCE'S TITS!! OWOWOWOW! THAT WAS MY WAND, YOU OVERGROWN HYDRATIC
The dragon had shot out a thin, perfectly-aimed jet of flame from its
mouth straight at Lucius' wand, which immediately felt like a poker
burning a brand into his palm. He dropped it, snatched up the hem of
his robes and began beating at it in an attempt to put out the blue
flames licking at the one thing that could get him back home.
"Oh!" the dragon purred from high above Lucius' wild gyrations. "Another
one! Such a feast."
Lucius shot up and whirled around, finding himself face to face with-
"Take my hand," Severus snarled.
The absolute absurdity of his situation prompted Lucius to adopt an
attitude of debonair bravado. "Are you giving me your friendship?" he
asked, clasping Snape's bony fingers.
"No," Severus said, revulsion etched in his features. "I'm merely saving
you from an untimely charbroiling and allowing you the chance to reclaim
"Reclaim the Manor?" Lucius let go of Snape's hands and grabbed the
front of his black robes. "I haven't been gone but a day! Wait- that was
you before, wasn't it, poking in my head?"
"Of course," Severus spat. "I had to make sure it was you. Draco
couldn't find your magical signature anywhere, assumed you were gone for
good, and when I left, moments ago, he was doing a pole dance for dozens
of his admirers. You wouldn't believe the orgiastic revelry I was forced
Lucius watched Severus' eyes pan upward to the dragon behind them.
"Where exactly are we, Lucius?"
"Erebor. Somewhere back in time, I believe. The gnomes talk, and they
have such beautiful things, Severus, you must let me go back to-"
"Shut up," Snape hissed, clutching Lucius to him and pulling out a
Tongue-Tying Toffee wrapper, obviously a portkey. "We're going back
the Manor and you are never
going to use whatever spell that was ever
again and you will
thank me once a day for the rest of your ridiculously
"My savior," Lucius swooned as Severus pressed his lips together in
displeasure until they were nearly invisible.
"Only in your dreams, you insufferable, greedy sycophant."
"I love it when you use big words." Lucius kissed Snape on the cheek.
Looking as though his eyes would roll all the way into his head, Severus
shook his head and disentangled himself from Lucius' arms. "There aren't
enough Obliviates in this world for what I've experienced in the past
hour. Please don't add to my misery." With a last glance at the very
interested dragon, Severus held out the portkey. "You take care of
Draco's party. I'll be in your library, drinking your oldest Scotch and
lots of it."
"Thank you," Lucius said as he felt as though his insides were being
pulled out of him. He despised traveling by portkey, but in this
instance it was far better than being roasted by a dragon or attacked by
True to his word, Severus had keyed his transportation so he was
suddenly plunked down in the middle of the Manor ballroom. There were
people everywhere and the music was so loud he couldn't think. Using
wandless magic, he cast a silencio, and in the ensuing quiet, he walked
to a chair and stood on it. He focused his eyes on his son, whose face
bore a mixed expression of surprise and fear, despite being conveniently
sandwiched between two handsome young men.
"My name is Lucius A. G. Malfoy. This is MY MANOR," he said, calmly but
forcefully. "I will now be spending the evening in MY WINE CELLAR, and I
do not wish to be disturbed." He gazed around at the group, smoothing
his platinum hair to his scalp. "Just be sure that you are all gone by
With a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, he stepped down and
strode out of the room, nearly colliding with Severus, who was looking
at him as though he'd suggested that Arthur Weasley would make a
smashing Minister of Magic.
"Have you lost your mind?" Severus seethed as Lucius joined them arm in
arm, heading toward the stairs that led to his wine collection envied
through wizarding England.
"Entirely possible. Care to join me? I hear sanity is quite overrated."
They began down a curved staircase as Severus emitted a resigned sigh.
"I suppose. It makes as much sense as anything else going on here."
Lucius hummed along to a bar of the Weird Sisters' song "Bring Out Your
Dead" that drifted from the renewed party. He turned to his companion.
"Severus, I'll need a new wand. Care to go to Ollivander's with me
There was only an uncharacteristic whimper in reply.
"Oh good. Thank you."
He gave a passing thought to the dwarf/dragon battle going on in the
wake of his abduction, felt a moment of gratitude about his lack of
involvement, and decided that Severus did deserve to remain on his
Christmas card list after all. It was good to be home.
- déan (make, making) dorcha- dark, in Irish. Yes, it looks
like something-dork. I thought that a 'k' instead of a 'c' would look
more Dwarvish. Ultimately I wanted the word to have the sensibility of
"sacrilegious," something that just Would Not Be Done. I
originally made up this Dwarvish word for my story "Speak, Friend, and
and felt like borrowing it.
This is written for my dear friend licia, who requested a story with the following:
Lucius Malfoy; purple leather pants; a dragon; and lyrics from a song of my choosing by Ultravox.
Happy Birthday, dear heart.
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