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Crumbling Grades

© Tsumi Moogle '18

Characters © Themselves

The rabbit's lips pursed as he regarded his wand. Dragon heartstring, with the ivory sheen of its polished surface, perfectly straight, with a tiny serpent spiraled about its form, carved neatly into the wood proper. He tapped it against his palm, and glanced up towards the picture opposite himself, smirking faintly for the busy crowd bustling about the crudely tied witch, struggling to light the tinder. Several of the painted people looked amongst themselves for another flint. One hopeful figure even turned to regard the rabbit as if hopeful.

Turning, he watched the bodies of other student starting to fill the hall at the end of their latest lessons. Bodies all in their thick black robes swishing about, chattering, some groaning for an extensive scroll requirement, and others calling to friends across the expansive hall, twisting and turning, large stair-wells warping and arching across the span, like indecisive butterflies eager to try another landing.

His scarlet eyes watched intently, searching through the throng. Charms was his last class. He knew that much just from having watched the irksome little figure.

It wasn't that he was untalented. It was exactly the opposite.

Teachers all but fawned over his natural ability and aptitude for the arts. He took up their teachings easily, and followed through with homework without hassle.

Of course, he was a -dragon-, so he had something of a headstart on most everyone else in the grade.

The thought of the praise each of the professors lavished the little drake with, whilst his own personal hardships were so brazenly brushed over, made the buck's fist clench, until his wand sparked dangerously.

Almost appologetically, he eased his grasp, and thumbed along the serpent's tail.

And then he saw him. Drifting on the carefully crafted board, hovering a foot or so off the ground. Shifting his weight to weave modestly between the legs of his fellow students, as his make-shift robes fluttered about him.

It was a modestly ingenious means of transport for the dragon. Cat-sized as he was, to expect him to scamper from class to class was almost cruel. The thoughts of their first year, when the scarlet frame had several times arrived to class, gasping and heaving for air from the scramble, brought a grin to the bucks face.

The small board hovered past, with Drake's bright face focused forward. His eyes having a slightly far off look as though he mulled over many things.

Most likely the shuddering and slowing of his board.

'Arresto Momentum.' Teio whispered as he flicked his wind after the dragon. The board came to a jarring halt, and the dragon's hold-fast spell, designed only for modest leanings was insufficient to halt his sudden lurching tumble onto the age-threaded carpeting of the thinning hall.

The rabbit's footsteps approached neatly, and regarded his rival with a pointed smirk.

'Magichanical issues, Drake? Need a hand to class?' he offered smoothly.

Drake eyed the tall form warily, well aware of the rabbit's disdain for him. Rubbing his chin as he sat up, he glanced at the board, paused in midair, and opened his mouth to offer a simple refusal, before the buck stooped and snagged him by the tail to lift the slightly paunchy dragon up.

'I insist.' He said, lifting the flap of his satchel, and neatly sliding the dragon in.

The disconcerting slide spoke of a highly charmed carry-satchel, as Drake squirmed to get his forepaws and head to peek beneath the flap. He watched his board suddenly spring back to life, and soar itself through a bannister and down into the long drop of the wide hall. He cringed for the thought of it smashing into one of the paintings.

And bringing his attention back to his position, he realized the rabbit was taking one of those twisting stair-cases up ant odd direction. Certainly not the way to their Transfiguration class.. But Teio was next to never late. He swallowed cautiously, becomming tenser when the buck continued down another hall, and another, both the wrong way, before he closed the door to an unused classroom behind himself.

The rough grasp of the paw on his nape dragged him from the bag and dropped him atop one of the centuries-scarred woodwork baring numerous waxed over initials.

'What're you doing, Teio? We're going to be late!' Drake sputtered nervously as he eyed his classmate, who smirked at him.

'Possibly. But don't worry, I fully intend to smooth Professor Brewn over. And besides, you know he'd never get angry at you.' His eyes flashed dangerously as he said it, drawing his wand neatly from his robes. He could give him a long and agonized speech over his grievances, make the dragon accutely aware of all that he saw as wrong.

But he wasn't going to.

'Fio Crustulum.' the rabbit said sharply as he twisted his wand at the dragon.

The dragon yelped at the octarine flash of light, the lurch of the spell as it struck him, and spread its bizarre ethereal tendrils through his entire body.

'W-what'd you do?!' he squeaked, as he felt his catlike frame tensing. Tensing, shrinking, warping, and taking on a worrisome hue and texture as he gasped. He could smell it, smell himself, like freshly baked gingerbread. Professor Brewn's favourite. 'T-Teio!!' The dragon squeaked, before the spell overtook the rest of him, and dropped him to the table, freshly baked.

The buck grinned as he admired his handiwork, twitching his spade and licking his lips as he considered devouring his creation then and there.. But no, he had a plan, and would see it through.

'Geminio.' he muttered, dancing the glowing wand-tip over the cookie, duplicating it several times, and with an artful gesture, bound them all up in a handsome, summoned, satin satchel.

Drake lay haplessly frozen. Aware as he stared at the fabric wall of the bag. Lifted up, he felt the buck in motion. In rapid motion as Teio knew how late he was, even just by that small detour.

He was sure his heart was pounding, nervously aware of just what the buck intended.

He couldn't have been less happy to hear the barritone rumble of the transfiguration professor's voice glowering at the rabbit's tardiness, and Teio's unctuous appology and offering of reparations. The satchel switched hands, and he heard the bear giving it a sniff, and a more approving dismissal of the rabbit to his seat, as he set the satchel on his desk.

In the gloom of the bag, he lay, hearing the professor's words as he continued the lesson. The complicated nature of alteration between states of matter, particularly in vertebrae.

He could almost sense the rabbit's pride at reading ahead.

The satchel opened, and a pair of thick digits snagged the nearest biscuit, drawing it out and away, and Drake would have cringed, had he been able to lid his eyes as he heard the broad jaws claim the baked treat with a hearty rumble.

Muzzle thick with gingerbread, the bear took to questioning individual students, plucking another biscuit, and then another.

Drake could only watch with nervous horror as the bear emptied the satchel steadily about him, until finally it was lifted to rest on one of the Bruin's palms, as the other fished him out.

The professor was an immense and imposing figure. The robes snug on his frame, and flecked a little with crumbs from his class-time treat.

Silently, he stared at his professor, pleading for him to see him, to recognise the spell, to not keep going.

'And you, Mister Hunter? Why wouldn't fluid-changes work?' The bear grinned, before lifting the gingerbread dragon. His great jaws parted: dark lips framing the mottled flesh and broad tongue below. He placed the last of the delectable dragon cookies in, and quite succulently nursed his fingers as he savoured the flavour of the hardbaked biscuit.

The flavours of it spread exquisitely over his tastebuds, whilst Drake felt the most alien sensation of the saliva suffusing his transmogrified self. Stiffling, like a sauna's heat soaking through him, it made him cringe, and whimper, before the soft tilt of the bear's head lurched his softening frame back over the back of his tongue.

With a slow swallow, the professor licked his lips, still listening to the buck's long-winded answer, nodding approvingly, and kneading his middle through the well tailored robe.

'Very good!' He finally relented. 'A scroll and a half on the nature of adjustment, and best means of containment for extended form. And I'll thank you not to keep groaning, Mr. Krin. Heavens knows I need a new lamp.' The class chuckled as it began filing from the classroom. 'And Mister Hunter, thank you for the treat. It was quite delectable.'

The large bear settled himself at his desk to begin grading several scrolls from another class as his gut gave a thick gurgle of approval. And longing. Glancing towards the empty satin satchel, the bear sighed faintly, before his stomach gave a queer lurch, and twitch, as though it were suddenly alive.

Most unbeknownst to the professor, it rather was, as the buck's curse broke and Drake scrambled weakly in the smothering gut. Already so weakened from the soaking and swallowing.

'Hmm.. I'll have to see if he meant for that to be a delayed reaction, or if he needs a hand making them move.' The bear smiled as he rubbed over his broad pot of a gut, feeling the twitches slowing and stilling.

A thick belch escaped his lips as the bear settled into his chair, smiling and lazily groping his gut comfortably.

--Fin.