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Let it Burn

Prologue

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~*- One day, it'll be a decision that you'll come to regret, Malfoy -*~

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Eyes as dull as ice

Skin as dry as the sun stricken earth

He stares into oblivion

As his heart so wishes to yearn

Whilst the sovereign fire of his love burns

.~.

A distinctive scent of burnt parchment filled his nostrils. The foul scent wafted unpleasantly through the small room, filling it up with the decay akin to a thousand rotting corpses. It sickened him unto death. Loitering around by the hearth as the first wintery treasury flourished behind the windowsill, Draco Malfoy's mood had turn sour very carefully. The debauchery of joyous victory sounded below him, a party that he worked so hard to avoid and ultimately escape from. He had had enough of the ridiculous celebrations; he wanted something else, something purer. Drawn to the flickering light of the only warm that seemed to heat up his body, he stared into the embers with a mixture of loath and awe. In a small fortune of fate, he was getting what he wanted.

He was sick of it all. All the raids, the nightly terror, the butchery of the innocent. Only a few things kept him from fleeting, one being his family. If it wasn't for the need to be there and protect them, he would have packed his bags and fled a long time ago. How can anyone be attracted to such horror? To look upon the face of a child or older individual and not feel even the slightest ping of guilt? He couldn't understand that attraction because he simply hasn't acquired it. To believe in the rubbish and disgusting views of the hidden world was more than just a sinful act to him. No words would be able to describe just how sick and wrong they world actually was. Even if he could put into context, he didn't think he could bear the thought of whispering a single word of it.

With well practice poise, he placed his arm against the wooden frame of the hearth and leaned in, admiring the flames as it licked his skin and sent his soul aflame. A small, singed piece of parchment sat in the heart of the fire. The corners were badly damaged, but the middle was very much readable. The image played before him repeatedly in a silent, tuneless motion. The girl in the picture twirled around, her voice he images, would have filled his ears with the sweetest notes that he's ever heard. Brilliant eyes, beautiful face, and wild curly hair- the girl was a Goddess, a masterpiece of the highest perfection. Everything about her made him soar to higher reaches, but yet she was still untouchable. As untouchable as she had been the first day he laid eyes upon her.

Yet, there he was throwing another treasured photograph in the wake of the fire.

Just as she began to take form, a voice called from behind his perched state.

"I thought you'd be here," someone drawled in a baritone voice behind him.

It only took a fraction of a second to register who the voice belonged to and in that time he marked him off as someone unimportant.

Theodore Nott was never once for pleasantries. In fact, Draco couldn't find a single reason for him seeking out his attendance. He had been one of the importers of this evening's festivities; he had been of the few whom single-handedly caught the meddling disciple of Dumbledore and their master could not be happier. If such an emotion could be registered upon his pale face or even expressed at all the young wizards did not know. Their master's mastery of emotions was one thing to marvel openly at.

"Do tell me, Malfoy. Why aren't you celebrating with the rest of us?"

A retort along the lines of: parties aren't my thing was on the very edge of his tongue but he withheld from saying it. His fellow Housemate knew of his late night explorations; a weekend did not go by where he didn't find himself strung up with whatever they stolen from Professor Sprout's secret garden, pissed off his arse, and snogging any girl that would throw themselves at him for even a second of his time. He was a notorious playboy. None one of it mattered, though. All those wasted nights, one thing kept him going and that one thing had almost been the end of him.

Theodore would never know truly how deep his obsession was with her. As far as he knew, it was some sick, twisted game that would inevitably lead to a broken heart. What he didn't know, if would have lead not just one but two miseries. A love between the two of them could never be. A forbidden bit of poetry, their story was as tragic as they came.

A sly smirk appeared on his face, however. Moving away from the hearth, the Pureblood poised himself with high grace and posture. His blonde hair had been sleeked back but now it fell over his eyes, obscuring them from the scrutiny of his friend. Draco had been crying. He would cover it up, no matter how rapturously his heart whispered to him. He knew there was no shame in exposing himself to such vulnerability.

"I had to get a bit of fresh air," he told him, a lie he knew.

Theodore didn't seem to have caught on. "I know what you mean." He shook his head, bewildered. "All those Mudbloods throwing themselves at me was a bit more than I can take. One would think they knew the meaning of 'no'."

"What do you mean?"

He watched his friend's eyes glitter with hesitation before he spoke up. "He's… allowing us to partake in more exuberant activities."

"Meaning," he gathered darkly," he's forcing us to rape his prisoners?"

The wizard looked away, ashamed. It was clear that he had partaken in the night's festivities after Draco had escaped. By a string of hair, this only intensified the alarm. If he had stayed, he would have had to be forced to take someone against their will. He didn't think he could do it again after last night and the almost endless round of sex with faceless girls that he did not know. It was hard to even think about something as simple as a blooming flower when the image of a girl whose virginity had been taken by him was still fresh in his mind. Oblivating himself would have been an option, but his master was always quick to ensure that they would remember their victory. They always remembered. Theodore appeared to be a worse state than him, too.

"I don't know much more of this I can take," he croaked. "The raids, the rapes, violence, and murder- what is the point of all of it, really?"

"The Dark Lord never divulges his reasoning," Draco murmured. "Only he is the keeper of knowledge and all that is worth knowing."

"You speak as if you know him well, Malfoy."

"He's lived in my home for the past several weeks," he drawled, unpleasantly. "It would abnormal not to get close to the Dark Lord, almost unnaturally so when the proximity of his being is so close."

Theodore regarded him for a moment as he considered his words. "How has it been? Living under the same roof as him, I mean."

"Adequately horrendous." Draco moved toward a vacant chair and plopped down. A swirl of dust encased him in a shimmering veil of translucent colors. "Living with the filth that he brings it hasn't been pleasant, Nott. Between the flea-ridden vermin and monstrous trolls, I don't know which one is worse."

"Surely, both?"

He shook his head. Even he couldn't decide. "Doesn't matter. They'll be leaving soon. The Dark Lord must rest or risk decomposition. The remaining pieces of his soul are only so resilient. It is only a matter of time before Potter finds another Horcrux."

This seemed to unhinge Theodore. Cautiously, he approached the Malfoy heir with trepidation. Slowly, he took a seat in front of him, lean over and placed his elbows upon his knees.

"There is something I need to speak to you about, Malfoy."

Draco quirked an elegant eyebrow but said nothing.

He hesitated before speaking once again. "They've found them. Potter and…"

The wizard's grey eyes grew into a storm of raging discourse and unbounded anger. "They what?"

"The Dark Lord's messengers found Potter and his friends not far from Wiltshire a few hours ago. They're on their way and-"

A shattering echo of something falling to the ground rang throughout the room. Whatever Draco had thrown had cracked into a tiny million piece, all of which was blown away by the unearthly strength of his magic. He was beyond mad. With quick, short pants, he tried to calm himself down and gain coverage of his emotions but the news of the capture of Potter and his friends was all too much to bear. He knew that he would be questioned. To ensure that the people they captured were who their captors say they were. It would be trailing, and knowing that he would be once again in her presence, it was made his heart crack and tears fall unwillingly down the landscape of his cheeks. Draco's resolve had snapped and he fell into an inconsolable despair.

Theodore sat there with his back straight, his eyes knowing. Pity and remorse for his friend frightened the Malfoy heir. He didn't want his pity and he didn't want to be faced with the girl he's loved so long, lead on and pushed away before her departure into the unknown. She had left the safety of his arms because of his own need to protect her. It was his fault that she was in harm's way.

"I-" he choked, almost wishing that his tears would drown him. "I- I can't…"

"It's perfectly acceptable to forget, Malfoy. Even for a time."

He nodded, wiping his tears and motioning to stand. He staggered before catching himself.

In the corner of the room stood a small basin filled with cream colored liquid. Inside, was a bath of his memories. Each one swirled around another, catching his attention. He watched silently as the tears upon his cheeks disappeared and he regained the composure he once had. Wordlessly, he summoned a vial and with his wand, he gathered one last memory that he held of her. An image of her smiling face as he gazed into her brown eyes was the last remaining connection he had to her. Without that, he would have no idea who she was and thus save her, hopefully, from being killed. In his heart, he knew that it was the right thing to do, the only thing he do for her right now until he could reunite with her and regain her trust. One day, he promised.

Theodore stood by his side as he placed the memory in the vial. Draco handed it to him without a single thought. The wizard took it as a sign that he wanted him to get rid of it as the last reminiscence of the memory disappeared from him. He did so by tossing it into the roaring fire and watching as the glass exploded and the memories evaporated like liquid in the hearth. A foul scent circulated through the room and for a moment, Theodore watched Draco.

When he spoke, he knew for sure that what he had been given to do had taken its course.

"What is that god-awful smell?" he hissed, agitated.

Theodore looked back at the heart and quickly found the reasoning behind the foul scent.
"Parchment," he told him, keeping his own emotions in check. If he knew… if he was lead to believe anything that he knew now… it would go against everything he worked hard to accomplish. "Would you like me to retrieve it?"

Draco watched the embers. Entranced by the odd colored fume of the fire, he slowly captured his friend attention and said," No," he told him softly. "Let it burn."

. ~ -Fin- ~.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this ended on sort of a cliffhanger. I do plan on continuing it, but I wanted to finish Fated to be Ours first before restarting Salutem. Rest assured, I will come back to this and know I am not looking for a certain amount of reviews for this in order to continue. I expect y'all to be patient no matter what. I am not that type of author, anyway. I simply wanted to write it and I was blessed with a review and support of my stories that allowed me to adopt one of her titles/stories. Thanks, girl! If y'all thought Fated to be Ours was a bit dark, you'll find this touching very sensitive topics. Salutem, as well, has been rated M for that reason. Tread carefully! It will be one and only warning.

Note: Any errors y'all find can be blamed on my desktop. I have both desktop and laptop with two different version of Office. They can never come to a conclusive decision, so.

With that said, how did y'all like it? No, yes, maybe? Let me know :)

Bye!