White Fire

A fanfiction by Phoenix Donovan

Prologue

December, 1996

The lean boy with the jet black hair and rimmed glasses to match often found himself in predicaments that he could not very well explain, more often than not having to do with his simply unavoidable relationship with Lord Voldemort, something he had written of in his diary many a time. On those occasions, Harry found himself in close pursuit of certain death, until the help of luck or of his best mates Ron and Hermione (mostly Hermione, actually). This situation was different though, he knew, as he exited his dorm room at midnight and made his way quickly, silently, to the common room, the door to the painting and out. This time, neither Ron nor Hermione (and no, not even Hermione) could really come to his aid in the hard-existing fact of the matter--that it was the middle of the night, and Harry Potter was roaming Hogwarts castle out of hours again┘ For him.
Harry went to throw his invisibility cloak over himself, and then cursed madly under his breath when he realized suddenly that he had forgotten it. He had been in too much of a haste, leaving the minute he could, every second before it his heart thumping in wild anticipation. It confused him to feel this way, but he didn't deny it--wouldn't. He had never been the type of boy to shut up and go quietly and pretend that he could be normal. He knew in his heart that he couldn't, and accepted this to be another part of the bargain.
Having lived at Hogwarts for the past four and a half years, at least during the school season, Harry knew his way around the castle well enough to sneak through corridors, hallways, past teachers and the ever-lurking Snape (who didn't pose a threat this night--according to the Marauder's Map, Snape was standing in the library and had been for quite a long time). He opened the doors that lead out to the castle's quad as quietly as he could. The night sky was fuzzy with the light snow fall, and the air was chilly but not unbearable. Harry basked in the freedom that the night brought, the beautiful silence of being alone out here. No Weasley tricks booming or spitting. No Hermione chanting lessons in his ear. There was, however, a swirl of gray smoke emitting from the other side of a brick post, barely recognizable in the puffy sky. But Harry saw it, and slowly he approached the source of the smoke.
⌠Evening, Potter," said the voice of Draco Malfoy. Just as Harry was about to reach the tall blonde, Draco stepped out from his hiding spot, dropped his cigarette into the snow, and stomped his boot on it before it could go out on its own. He smirked at Harry, who crossed his arms. ⌠Nice night for a walk?"

"A bit slithery for my taste,■ Harry said, scowling. Draco chuckled and leaned back against the brick.
⌠Cheer up there, Potter. Don▓t want anyone calling you broody, do ya?■ Draco said. Harry rolled his eyes and stepped past Malfoy.
⌠I knew I shouldn▓t have come out,■ he said. Draco laughed. ⌠You--you know what I mean.■ He began to walk back towards the doors.
⌠Hey, hey,■ Draco said, dropping his smile and replacing it with a stern face. Harry stopped and looked back, much to his disdain. He tried to tear his eyes away from him, but the sharpness of Draco▓s nose, his high cheekbones and icy blonde hair made it impossible, so he only stared, and tried to scowl while doing it. ⌠Don▓t be a priss, Potter,■ said the blonde. He took a tin from his pocket and opened it, lifted two thin cigarettes and placed one in his mouth while holding the other up for Harry. ⌠Take it easy. Suck on a fag for a while.■ ⌠If you wish,■ Harry muttered, taking the cigarette and placing it between his lips, trying to remain ignorant to the fact that Malfoy was studying his every move with a sly smile. Malfoy leaned forward, beckoning for Harry to do so as well, and lit the end of Harry▓s cigarette with his own. Harry was very conscious of how close their faces were--perhaps this was the closest he had ever been to Draco--but the moment was over in an instant and Draco stood away again, dragging on his cigarette. Harry took a modest puff.
⌠It▓s called bum fucking,■ said Draco. Harry nearly choked on his inhale.
⌠What?■ he said, coughing and spitting into the snow. Draco laughed again.
⌠What I did with our cigarettes. It▓s called bum fucking,■ he said, flicking his ashes into the snow. ⌠Thought you might like the name.■ ⌠That▓s it, Malfoy,■ said Harry frustratingly.
⌠What▓s it, Potter?■ ⌠This┘little rendezvous we▓re having. It▓s a bit odd, wouldn▓t you say? Not every day two mortal enemies come outdoors for a little chat and a suck on a fag.■ He threw down his cigarette. Draco did as well.
⌠I▓m flattered you think of me as your mortal enemy,■ Draco said. ⌠Though I don▓t feel the same as you. We▓re more alike than you think, you know.■ They were inches from one another now. Harry could smell Draco, a faint musky scent. His heart raced.
⌠You know, Potter,■ Draco said in a low voice. ⌠Your eyes are dazzling.■