Title: Embers and Ashes
Summary: "Fire Tetrahedron: -noun 1. Without sufficient heat, the fire cannot begin. 2. Without fuel, the fire will eventually stop and turn to ash. 3. And without oxygen, the fire cannot continue." Everything about him was broken―there was no fire or heat left anymore. Just burnt out embers, charred ashes, and the remnants of his old personality. And there was only one person who could fix him―rekindle that spark in his silver eyes and bring him back to life. HPDM, Sixth-year alternative, in-progress.
Warnings: Very dark. Potential spoilers, slash, explicit language and violence, physical abuse, and a lot of angst.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters involved. No copyright infringement intended.
"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.
It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.
We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."
- Albert Schweitzer
Harry walked down the dark, empty corridors, bare feet treading quietly upon the cool ground. It was unnerving, the way he seemed inexplicably drawn down this unfamiliar path―searching for something unknown. And he found himself following the rosewood pattern etched into the stone flooring, uncertainty brimming within him as he continued to search his surroundings. It seemed to him as though he was being guided by some concealed force, as though his legs already knew of the path and destination, despite his apprehension.
The moon was high in the sky, casting a low light in through the black iron-rimmed windows that ran down the corridor walls. It gave an ethereal appearance to his surrounding, the milky white light dancing across the flooring and up the slate gray masonry that lined the walls. He'd never been down this specific passageway before and found himself entranced by its archaic appeal.
He felt ridiculous; his desire to reach this unknown location had no foundation nor merit whatsoever, and it was rapidly driving him further and further away from the comfort of the Gryffindor common room. He clutched his Invisibility Cloak tightly, his eyes searching for something―anything―of interest.
Suddenly, Harry heard a sharp gasp, seeming to come from within a small crevice hidden in the corridor wall. The sound was raw and harsh―saturated with emotions like molten fire―and the pained noise had a level of intensity behind it that was stifling. He followed the sound of the panting, his curiosity piqued as he slowed his pace; surely his intrusion wouldn't be completely unwelcome if he was only trying to help.
As he peered around the corner, he couldn't stop the slight intake of breath that was certainly loud enough to be heard. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the far end of the wall, panting quietly as tears fell down his cheeks.
Harry found his gaze to be stuck on the sight before him, not even breathing as he took in the epitome of pure vulnerability upon the face of the one person who he would have least expected it. It was enough to make him question nearly every single one of their past confrontations and arguments, disbelief coursing through his system as he watched quietly.
How could this possibly be the same person?
It seemed as though Harry was capable of feeling the slightest twinge of empathy for his rival as a small shiver ran up his spine. He couldn't decided what would be a better solution―to run away and pretend he'd never seen anything, or to help the blond who, for so long, had been the source of his most heated enmity.
He fought against his conflicting emotions, anxiety swelling within him as he tried to decide on a course of action. Despite his better judgment, he found himself slipping from beneath the Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself as he walked toward the other boy.
It was with very little comfort that Harry realized the risk he was taking―that his rival's reaction could, potentially, be explosive and dangerous―but beneath his caution was... concern? He quickly forced the absurd thought out of his mind.
"Malfoy?"
Draco's reaction was instantaneous as he jumped from his seated position on the floor, crouching forward and wielding his wand before he could even figure out his intruder's identity. His eyes were frantic, tears still brimming around the edges as his gaze finally focused on Harry's taut form. "Wh-what do you want, Potter?" Even his attempt at hostility was weak, his voice strained and tight as a result of the barely suppressed turmoil.
For some reason, Harry's initial response wasn't to grab his wand, but rather to lift his hands in a submissive gesture, as if to placate Malfoy's instability. He forced himself to relax, hoping that his disposition was calm and reserved. "Draco... just calm down, alright? I'm not trying to fight you."
Tension seemed to pervade the air—their surroundings buzzing with the undercurrent of Malfoy's magic—and his expression was utterly insane. "Why're you here? Did you follow me? How long have you been following me?" And his voice had an level of hysteria to it that was so surreal and misplaced that, for a moment, Harry was completely speechless.
He took a slight step backwards, noting Draco's beyond disheveled appearance―something of which Harry never though he'd see from the other boy. His hair was ruffled, blond strands sticking out in every direction as though he'd been tugging on it. His skin was almost ashen, much paler than usual, and it only seemed to bring further attention to his gaunt frame and dull eyes. His robes were rumpled, his white dress shirt no longer tucked in and sticking out at the edge. And despite his perpetual trembling, there seemed to be a light sheen of sweat glistering across his skin. He looks utterly ill.
"I didn't follow you... I didn't even know it was you until I looked." Harry whispered, trying to soothe the blond with soft, simple words. "Draco? Merlin, what's happened to you?"
Draco seemed to watch Harry for a moment, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words before he charged forward, grasping the neck of Harry's robes and clutching them tightly. He pulled Harry closer, his eyes shifting for a moment to make sure they were alone. "Why're you here, Harry? Why did you follow me?" he asked in a panicked whisper.
Harry lifted his hands to Draco's biceps, but didn't push him away. "Calm down, alright? Draco? Calm down," he said, shaking the other boy slightly.
Draco didn't falter, his eyes widening as he heard a door slamming shut somewhere in the distance. His vice-grip on Harry's robes only tightened as he pulled both of them father into gap, his back pressed against the far wall. Harry moved closer, using his body to shield the opening and hoping that it would be enough to help calm the other boy. "Draco, listen to me. What happened to you?"
Suddenly, Draco's rigid form went completely still, his eyes widening as they seemed to focus, for the first time on the emerald irises that were watching him carefully. "The Cruciatus Curse." And his voice was so quiet―so deadly―that it took Harry a few moments before he could truly grasp the implication.
"Who did this to you?"
Draco pulled Harry closer, burying his face in the robes that he still held within his tight, unrelenting grip. He seemed to collapse under the weight of the words, his muscles giving out from beneath him and Harry was left to support the extra weight. Harry quickly wrapped his arms around the other boy, not thinking about the action or how natural the proximity seemed as he pulled Draco closer. "Who did this to you?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
"They're gonna kill me. I've got to do it... He said he would kill me if I don't do it." Draco leaned further into the embrace, a soft whimper escaping him as he nuzzled deeper into the crook of Harry's neck.
Harry didn't bother asking for a clarification, knowing he would get none from the distraught boy until he calmed down―until the effects of the curse wore off. He pulled Draco closer, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to think of what he could do―where he could take Draco at this time of night when surely everyone was asleep. He didn't even consider leaving the other boy, not even fully comprehending that this was his nemesis that he was virtually holding in his arms. He needed to help him, and that was the only thought circulating through his mind.
He quickly draped the Invisibility Cloak over the both of them, settling on a location as he directed Draco through the empty corridors, his grip not faltering in the slightest.
Harry stopped as the large door appeared in the wall, waiting for it to develop completely before pressing forward, the whimpering boy at his side complying without a word. Once inside, Harry watched in amazement as the room shifted and items magically appeared. At the end of the transformation, the two stood in the in front of a completely developed bedroom. There was a king-sized bed with a black, goose-down comfort draped over it, little black and crimson pillows dispersed at the top. The fire place was burning, it's mantle following the pattern of the black and dark red surroundings, a rug placed directly in front of the flames. And finally there was a small black couch, maroon seams traveling the length as more pillows littered it's surface, a dark red fleece folded over the back.
What really caught Harry's attention was not the odd décor and design, but the mere fact that Draco was now nuzzling deeper into his side, pulling him closer while trying to simultaneously walk further into the room.
If only for his desire to comfort the other boy―to help him find a semblance of relaxation in the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse's effects―Harry allowed himself to be dragged toward the couch that sat facing the fire.
He sat down, figuring that Draco's grip on his robes would disappear and that the other boy would situate himself on the opposite end of the couch. What he hadn't expected was Draco to follow his every move, sitting on the couch directly next to him, curling up against Harry's side and pulling him impossibly closer.
Harry noticed for the first time just how labored the other boy's breathing was―noticed that Draco's grip wasn't lessening, but rather tightening. He noticed just how much Draco's body was quivering; how he could feel moisture soaking through his robes and onto his chest. He noticed that Malfoy―his rival for the past six and a half years―was seeking him out for comfort, begging for refuge and warmth.
And suddenly, the true severity of the entire situation hit Harry as he realized that Draco had endure the Torture Curse for Merlin only knows how long―obviously long enough to affect his sanity, and Harry could only hope that the effects were only temporary. He wrapped his arm around the exhausted form, pulling him closer and trying to pacify Draco's desperate need for comfort and security. It was with little humor that Harry realized how truly ironic the entire situation was.
He reached his arm around and grabbed the dark vermilion blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa, wrapping it carefully around Draco's shoulders. He took a moment to watch the shivering, distraught boy that was his enemy, and tried to find even an ounce of the old hostility that had existed not only within Draco but within himself, as well. What he found peculiar was not his lack of animosity, but rather the abundance of his concern―knowing that something had irrevocably shifted in the atmosphere; that because of the night's events, something had drastically altered his views on the boy that was practically lying in his lap.
He sighed, resigning himself to the enforced change and allowed his hand to gently sift through the blond hair that was scattered across his chest. It didn't go unnoticed as Draco leaned into his palm, the side of his face nuzzling against Harry's abdomen as he did so.
Harry let his head fall against the back of the couch, his eyes closing as he continued to run his hand through the blond, silken hair. He tried to sleep, but it seemed to evade him as he sat up watching the flames for hours. As time passed, the vice-grip that Draco held on Harry's robes gradually lessened until he had just a limp arm draped across Harry's torso. His trembling slowly eased and his breathing evened out, despite the tears that still fell across his cheeks as he slept.
The sun was just starting to rise as Harry began to drift to sleep, the bright light blocked out by the black curtains that suddenly appeared over the window.
And as the darkness consumed him, Harry realized that he wasn't worried about what his friends would think of his absence or the fact the classes had probably already started. No, the only thing he was concerned about was the blond that he held in his arms, his grip tightening without a deeper thought.
Harry awoke with his memories of the previous night still at the forefront of his mind, not even slightly addled by his sleep. He was also acutely aware of the form that was missing from his side, leaving him feeling cold without the blanket that had been draped over the both of them during the night.
He groaned softly, running a hand down the side of his face as he opened his eyes. His neck was sore, the muscles protesting as he lifted his head to search for the blond who had been so completely wrecked the night before.
Harry immediately caught sight the other boy, sitting on the floor in front of the flames, knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. Draco seemed to be in a trance of sorts, his head resting atop his knees as he watched the ornate flames dancing before him. Harry scrutinized him for a moment, noticing that his appearance was much more composed than the night before. Draco's hair had tamed significantly and his clothing and robes were now straightened to the best of their abilities. But the most drastic change, thought Harry, was within the other boy's expression. Gone were the tears that had trailed so endlessly down the side of his face, and from what Harry could see, Draco's slate gray eyes no longer held that fearful hysteria that they had before―no, they were empty now, completely devoid of all emotion and expression.
Harry swallowed hard, unease consuming him. He knew how to deal with an angry Draco; in fact, he even knew how to deal with the frantic Draco from the night before. What he didn't know how to handle was the absolute emptiness that he was currently seeing from the blond. He had no idea how to approach this boy who seemed so completely broken that he was a mere shell of the person he used to be. For once in his life, Harry felt as though there was absolutely nothing he could say or do.
He continued to watch him for several moments, hoping that something would change―hoping that the familiar spark in Draco's eyes would return.
"What is it, Potter?"
Harry was shocked. He hadn't known that the other boy had been aware of his staring, and not only that, but the tone in which Draco spoke. His voice, like his expression, was completely devoid of all emotion―the usual bite and sarcasm that existed when he would regard Harry missing and in it's place was... nothing.
"I, uhm..." Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and formulate a response before the other boy could figure out just how much this was truly affecting him. It was throwing him completely off balance to experience such a surreal difference in Draco's personality and demeanor―nothing Harry ever would have thought possible. "Er, how are you feeling?" he finished, lamely.
It felt weird to approach Draco with such... hesitance and uncertainty. Harry was used to their biting remarks and insults, never civil or empathizing, but always fierce with anger. Now, Harry thought, it seemed as though Draco couldn't even build up enough intensity to offer a single scathing remark.
It left Harry feeling oddly lost, once again. He found himself missing the usual stamina and potency that the blond used to carry―his confidence and grace that now seemed to be all together absent.
And it was so absurd, because they hated each other. Why, thought Harry, did it bother him at all? Why did seeing Draco in this state cause a deep ache to form in the pit of his stomach, almost like something was missing? Why did he want Draco to respond? To fight with his usual stubbornness? To insult Harry and call him an insufferable, whiny git? Harry hated all of that about Malfoy, so why did he want it all back over this dull indifference―this apathy that surely wouldn't affect Harry in the slightest?
Harry sighed deeply, trying to grasp a level of understanding over his own thoughts and emotions. Draco turned his body a few inches, his head still resting on his knees, but rather than facing the fire, he was now watching Harry. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." The reply was out of Harry's mouth before he could even fully comprehend Draco's response, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he saw the other boy visibly flinch.
"It's none of your fucking business, Potter."
Harry noticed that the statement still lacked that usual biting edge―how absolutely wrong it was to hear the words that should be filled with such hostility, but in actuality were just empty letters that were strung together.
What did they do to you?
Harry shrugged, anxiety washing over him. "Fuck you, Malfoy. I'm just trying to help." He tried to put a decent amount of anger and fire into the statement, trying to get a rise out of Malfoy―trying to push him into reacting, and see if just maybe, Harry could ignite that old spark that was missing in the other boy.
He immediately regretted the decision as Draco flinched yet again, seeming to withdraw even further, turning his face in the opposite direction. "Yeah, okay."
Harry felt his jaw drop as he openly gaped at the other boy. He had never―never―seen Draco Malfoy back down, especially that early on. He hadn't even tried to fight back with a mild insult or retort. There was absolutely nothing there―no fire, no spark or lightning, no drive for success, no confidence and certainty, no will-power.
"Malf―" Harry broke off, the name catching in his throat because, under these circumstances, it almost felt too bitter. "Draco, c'mon."
Draco shrugged a bit in acknowledgment, but didn't turn around. Harry sighed again, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of something―anything―that might possibly get Draco to face him again. He wondered, not for the first time since he woke up, why he didn't just leave. And immediately realized that that thought left a sickening aftertaste in his mouth―even if it was Malfoy, Harry didn't think he could leave someone when they were so... unresponsive.
Harry bit his lip and hesitated for a moment before walking over to where Draco was sitting by the fire. He kneeled down slowly, lifting his hand to place it on Draco's shoulder in what Harry hoped was a comforting gesture. What he hadn't expected was for Draco to recoil harshly, completely removing himself from the touch before it even fully connected. Draco buried his face into his knees and mumbled something unintelligible.
"What?" Harry asked, trying to suppress the urge to, once again, gape at the other boy.
"I said, don't touch me." Draco's whisper was terse, saturated with fear. "Don't touch me, and leave me alone." And hidden beneath that fear was an ounce of fire and hostility, almost a warning to Harry that he was entering uncharted territory and he would not happy with the results.
Harry sat down, trying to fight past his stupor and gather his thoughts. "What happened to you, Malfoy?"
Although Harry couldn't see Malfoy's face, he could see his shoulders rising and falling more often―more pronounced―with every breath he took. For a moment, Harry thought he was sobbing and braced himself for a reaction similar to last night's.
"I said, leave me alone." Draco growled, his voice dangerously low and filled with all the missing animosity that Harry had been waiting for. But something still wasn't quite right―the way Draco's entire body shook with fear and uncertainty so intense that it seemed to disrupt even his vocal cords. This was still so very wrong, and Harry was never one to give up.
"I'm not going to leave you alone, you ungrateful arse! There's obviously something very, very wrong, and I will not have your blood on my hands!" He hissed, hoping against all odds that something he said would strike a nerve with Malfoy.
"Pardon? "
"You heard me."
"What do you think I'm going to do? Off myself? You're off your fuckin' rocker, Potter." Draco offered a dark, humorless chuckle, still refusing to meet Harry's gaze. It almost seemed as though he was hiding something from the brunette.
"Look at me, you annoying twit. Didn't Lucius teach you that it's bloody well rude to ignore a person when they're trying to talk to you? Father of the fuckin year, isn't he?" Harry continued, his voice sharp and filled with a pseudo-mockery; trying anything to get the blond to react―to get him to turn around and reveal whatever secret he was hiding in those ashen eyes.
Suddenly, Draco spun around and faced Harry with what could only be called the single-most intense form of hatred that Harry had ever seen. His eyes were brimming with such a fierce fire that his irises looked like pools of molten-hot silver, consuming him with revulsion. His entire body was quivering with emotion, no longer shaking from fear, but rather blind rage. Never in his entire life had Harry seen a fury that thick―a contempt that ran so deeply Harry could actually feel Malfoy's magic buzzing around the atmosphere. "Lucius Malfoy is not my father, do you understand me, Potter? He deserves to burn in hell," he growled.
And just as quickly as it came, the anger vanished into a fear and panic so stifling that in a matter of seconds, Malfoy had tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks. The molten silver was no longer filled with fire, but rather ice, turning everything cold, gray, dark and detached. Even as Draco's trembling grew more pronounced, he tried to remain dignified, keeping a straight face that contrasted with the emotion swimming within his slate gaze. He swallowed, nodding a little before tightening his grip around his knees and looking down.
"Malfoy?" Harry whispered, his voice barely holding as he fought against the more recent wave of confusion and guilt. "I... I'm sorry. For whatever it was that I said... I was trying― you're just so―" He swallowed hard, trying to grasp a coherent thought from the mess that was currently swarming within his head. "I'm sorry." And the last word was uttered with such a genuine concern that even Harry was left without a further thought.
He simply couldn't fathom what it was about the other boy that made their past differences just melt away―that made Harry question everything he had ever known about not only Draco, but about himself, as well. Seeing Malfoy so emotionally mutilated was affecting Harry, and for the life of him, he just couldn't understand that.
Draco closed his eyes, nodding once again. He seemed to be humming with the fear that had been perpetually instilled within him since the night before, his entire form rigid and tense. Harry continued to watch him for a moment, trying to find all the pieces to this puzzle and simply understand what could have possibly happened to the other boy that would make him so utterly distraught.
Harry bit his lip, his gaze never wavering from the distressed boy in front of him. "You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?" he asked, quietly.
"You're right dense if you thought that I was going to."
"Will you tell me anything?"
"I'll tell you to leave me alone again, if you'd like," Draco said, as he offered a weak chuckle.
Harry smiled, deciding that yes, he was making some progress, however minuscule it might be. He knew that it would take endless perseverance and caution to get the other boy to open up and come around, but suddenly, spending time with Draco Malfoy didn't seem like such a inconvenience. Harry had always found a level of contentment within the consistencies that he had in life, and as reluctant as he was to admit it, Draco had always been consistent, if nothing else.
And for some reason, Harry couldn't stand the thought of losing that.
Although he hated Malfoy and everything he'd done to him and his friends over the years, he couldn't bear the though of losing their heated arguments and scathing fights. His thoughts and views seemed to be stuck within a paradox, all of his conflicting emotions battling for dominance.
And there was only one thing that Harry was certain of when it came to his rivalry with Draco Malfoy: that is was different. It contrasted with everyone else around Harry―everyone that took pride in him, that encouraged him, and told him that he could do anything just because he was Harry bloody Potter.
Draco had never been like that.
Draco had never placed Harry up on a pedestal, put on display to be praised and admired for occurrences in which he had no control over. Draco belittled him; he fought, argued, and insulted Harry in every way he could think of, until the both of them were left seething with blind rage. He could say one word, and somehow, cause Harry's blood to boil―cause every synapse and nerve in Harry's body to just vibrate with emotion. No, Malfoy had never encouraged Harry.
He challenged him.
And Harry refused to lose that constant provocation in his life―the very thing that had driven him and had given him a reason to actually prove himself.
No, Harry decided, he would not lose that.
He would fix Draco Malfoy if it was the very last thing he ever did.
Author's Note: Initially, this was just suppose to be an experimental one-shot, something to help me practice writing in third-person as well as play around with the characters and get a bit more comfortable with the Harry Potter fandom. But, well, it seems as though this story has a mind of it's own―it has already developed into something much larger than I had thought possible, and it's just begging to be shared. I'm still so new to Harry Potter, so please keep in mind that I'm writing strictly with what I know. I've tried desperately to keep all of the information correct and accurate, as well as trying to make sure everyone remains in-character, so needless to say, I'm terribly nervous about posting this and receiving feedback.
I'm still not sure about how long this story will end up being, but I'm definitely working hard to write future chapters and develop a strong plot, so I hope everyone can remain patient with me regarding updates.
Also, thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing any of my stories. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all the lovely comments and encouragement. And also, thanks to hpgirl4ever, who helped me edit the first few chapters of this story! :D
And finally, I hope everyone enjoyed reading this, and I would really, really love to hear some of your thoughts and opinions. So please review? Pretty please? :)