BURNING PAPER HOUSES

The night held promise, there was a mystery and a seductive air to the night world, like anything could happen, people became like animals, hidden in the shadows of dirty streets and back lanes they were free from the cruel, ever seeking eye of the public, away from the harsh glow of daylight that showed all your imperfections as starkly as ink on paper if you let it.

They found themselves in the shadow of the old bridge; old stone the only witness to their broken control. They let themselves drown in their magic, let it consume them and envelope them. They fought like wild beings, letting their magic shoot from their wands and fingertips lighting the shadowed alcove with the most brilliant colours imaginable, watching them sparkle and glitter across the water.

They were free in the darkness, a bottle of spirits that tasted like liquid fire in their mouths shared as they let themselves soar with the heady mix of adrenaline and power, whenever it happened, they were creatures kissing in the rain, they were rough and desperate something came loose inside them and they soared above the world drowning in air. sometimes they clasped at each other when it felt like their magic would lift them from this earth and carry them off, gasping breaths and sloppy open mouthed kisses, more teeth then tender, sharing the magic from one electrified body to the other.

Though they didn't go there every night, the time they spent together, where their magic was free to roam and play, was when they felt most alive. They were freer and more innocent then they had felt in a long time, since their Hogwarts days. Those shared moments made the days more bearable, made the blinding lights less harsh, and stopped their magic clawing at them in a desperate attempt to be let out. They lived in a gentle daze; everything was softer and easier to deal with.

Harry started to spend more nights out then he did at home, crawling into bed past midnight freshly showered so he didn't smell of old booze, smoke from Draco's cigarettes, and the earthy scent of the stone bridge.

The magic was still always there, and so was the need. he felt it seeping out of him, tingling across his skin, but he felt like he could handle it now, didn't let it drown him so entirely; except when he was hidden away with Draco, their magic wrapping around them tight like a womb. There were times when he felt himself falling, further and further down into the depths, but Draco was always there to pull him back out, when he wasn't falling right along side him, their hands clasped together, his eyes wide and lips parted as he panted smiling at him like they shared a secret nobody else knew.

The nights stretched on seemingly forever, spring turned to summer, summer to autumn and still they let themselves be submerged in the darkness of their magic, let it cover them entirely.

As they succumbed to the craving, the need grew, becoming more hungry and desperate. Still they fed the beast, more nights then not going home before dawn, too exhausted most nights to be haunted by the dreams they both so feared.

BPH BPH BPH BPH BPH

The stones were uneven under his feet, he wobbled and leaned against the rough surface of the bridge's base, it was dirty and stained by years of graffiti, the stone was cold to the touch and left grit on his fingertips. A thousand names and words marred the underbelly, he had seen it innumerable times before but each time he found new patterns in the old marks, a thousand hands leaving their mark, generations old, overlapping and intertwining, creating a patchwork of letters. A star chart of human history.

Harry swayed and leaned fully against the foundations, listening to the water slop rhythmically against the banks of the river. The quite of the night almost eerie, few cars passed and fewer people wandered the streets, especially in this ill lit part of town. His head spun and he closed his eyes against the disconcerting blur of lights on the water surface.

Unabated, Ginny's words from earlier that day ran through his mind '…They're called Unforgivable's for a reason!' 'It's despicable Harry…' '…I don't know how anyone can justify, even to themselves why they would have to use them!' '…don't you think Harry?' she didn't realize what she had been saying, preaching to a guilty soul. At the time he had wanted to shout at her that she didn't know anything, point fingers and tell her she was wrong. But now, hidden alone in the shadows of the bridge he had spent many nights, he wondered if maybe she was right; wondered, not for the first time if there was something wrong with him, if he was twisted somehow, wrong.

The heavy clunk of feet on cobblestone alerted him of an approaching figure, a moment later the tingle of familiar magic revealed Draco. Harry watched his approach dispassionately, focusing instead on the cool of the stone and the worn grooves that his fingers explored.

"You look like shit." Draco's gentle rumble caressed the harsh edges of Harry's mind; he snorted and rolled his eyes, watching absently as his breath created a wisp of smoke in the night air. It was colder then he thought. Draco waved his wand and cleared a place for him to sit. Absently he picked up a couple of stones, worn smooth and faded shades of grey, he let his magic play with them, hovering them and setting a steady obstacle for them, weaving around each other like partners in an old time dance. Harry watched them move, winding through the air and around each other, never wavering from the set course, effortless and elegant in a way which seemed out of place in the grimy shadows.

He let the gentle wave of Draco's magic wash over him, a calming force, like the waft of your lovers' perfume. Comforting in its familiarity.

"What is it?" Draco didn't look away from the stones; his voice was curious but not overly interested. As though knowing Harry had something on his mind and that it would seem easier to deal with if he spoke it out loud. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how Draco got to be so perceptive.

"It's nothing, just..." he trailed off, concentrating on the passage of the stones and the gentle noise of the river. It seemed so trivial now, with Draco's silent presence, the warm glow of magic around them and the endless darkness. "…I was talking with Gin today, she said something… its nothing, I overreacted." Draco raised an elegant brow, glancing at him quickly.

"Clearly it's not nothing, or you wouldn't have overreacted." It surprised him sometimes how Draco could do that, know him so effortlessly, nobody else seemed to, not anymore at least; it's been a long time since he's felt so transparent. It's equally invigorating and terrifying.

"We were talking about the Unforgivable's, she said only ugly souled people could cast them." Draco snorted, returning his gaze to the stones. Harry latched onto it though. "So you don't agree?"

Draco let the stones fall, a sudden motion, like the cutting of a puppets strings, so final. Leaving behind a pointless creature, void of life and meaning and movement.

"'Course I don't agree. Any one with half a brain would know it was bollocks." His brutality was refreshing as much as it was infuriating, there was no second guessing what he meant, no indecision on his behalf, he made everything seem so easy. Draco turned to face him as he leant back on his forearms. "The Unorgivable's aren't inherently evil. They're not powered by it. Evil isn't a conceivable notion, it's the corruption of an existing thing, be it a thought, a feeling a… What's that line? 'Nothing is neither good nor bad, thinking makes it so.' In another time, in another place, what we consider Evil, or Bad may be very different to what they do." Harry allowed himself a moment of surprise at Draco knowing a muggle quote, before returning to what he was saying. "The Unforgivable's aren't so terrible because of what they are exactly, it's horrible, don't get me wrong, but that's not why they are so powerful. They get their power from base human emotions, you have to feel it, you have to want it with every fiber of you being. You have to WANT them dead; you have to WANT them to hurt so unimaginable, you have to WANT to control them. Without that desire, that need they wouldn't be even half as powerful.

"Those emotions and feelings, primal desires if you will, are always there, in the heart of everything we do. If we want something badly enough we will conceive a way to get it. It's not innate evil that makes those spells powerful, the most kind and gentle and forgiving person in the world could cast an unforgivable just as easily as a cold blooded killer if pushed hard enough." He paused, running his fingers through the dirt as he thought over his words. "Actually, if pushed, they could cast it better then a killer. Coz to them, it would truly, really mean something."

They sat in silence for a while more, watching the lights shimmer across the river, like the stars were dancing on the waters surface.

"I cast them all, all three." It felt strange to say it out loud like that, nobody knew except him, and now it was out there, hanging in the air with the cloud of his breath. Draco raised his focus to look at him but Harry stoically ignored his gaze. "You're right, you have to want it, you have to want it so bad it hurts. The first time…" His voice was hollow to his own ears; he swallowed thickly, licking his suddenly dry lips. "The first time it didn't even work properly. I was chasing her, Bellatrix, through the ministry; I remember thinking how dark her hair was, like a void, pure darkness. I remember thinking how she would be beautiful if I didn't hate her so much. I felt that hatred swallow me whole, the rage. I wanted her to hurt so badly, I didn't even realize what spell I was casting until it was past my lips, it was thick and cloying, tasted like ash and liquorish, and the magic…" he took a shaky breath, "It was white hot and burned me up. It stole my breath and made me dizzy from the rush. It knocked her down, barely lasted a second, and she was laughing, I just wanted her to shut up, the magic was so loud in my ears…" he trailed off again, Draco was watching him, not judging, just curious as though Harry was talking about some new and strange creature that he had met once, a creature of shadows and nightmares, that moved with the grace of a bird in flight and was as beautiful as the longest sunset. "Avada Kavada… it's the look on their face you remember most, their last moments of life; lit by the most brilliant green imaginable… it changes their faces, makes them glow in the darkness like ethereal beings, its almost beautiful, except for the look in their eyes.

"There's just enough time between casting the curse and it hitting them for them to realize. They know, without a shadow of a doubt that they won't live to breathe another breath. There was a surprise on his face, as though he hadn't though I could do it. Like he was betrayed by my killing him, as he stood there, blood of my friend on his hands, and he looked like he didn't know why I was doing it…" his voice rose slightly with anger. But just as quickly as it came the flash of anger disappeared, and he continued in his steady even voice. "It's strange really, The Crucius Curse is more of a rush, a sudden bolt of lightning to the blood stream, Avada Kavada is a different kind of intense, its like a knife into your organs, it hurts, but at the same time its like the very brink of orgasm." He stopped speaking, his eyes growing large as he realized what he said, a blush rose to his cheeks and he chanced a quick glance at Draco, he was smirking, but there was nothing mocking, simply understanding. He though of how differently his friends would have reacted to a statement like that. He shut that though off quickly, before it had time to settle and fester.

"And the third?" Draco's voice was strong, as though they were discussing something interesting, but in no way controversial. Harry envied that, the way he was so calm, he knew his magic controlled him; he was comfortable with that fact.

"It's more of a distant ache, a throb in your gut and a tingle in your palms that lasts as long as the spell does. He was weak, barely struggled, but when he did… it was like snakes were in my gut, rolling around each other, wrestling and there was the occasional jolt of power, like the bite of sharp teeth." Draco nodded, looking away over the river to the lights, there was a stillness in the air, as though the world was holding its breath, but Draco didn't look like he was expecting any more and Harry felt gratitude rise up inside him.

"I never knew if I wanted to use them or not. Sometimes the very thought sickened me, and even the sound of them made me wanna be sick, the spells were weak, but still powerful enough to work. I guess there was a part deep inside me that was angry enough, that held enough hatred." Harry glanced over at him, watched as the lights flickered across his face. There was a comfort in knowing he wasn't alone.

BPH BPH BPH BPH BPH BPH

They stayed out late, under the shadows of the old bridge watching the night world move on around them, casting simple charms to amuse themselves and more complex incantations to feel the steady spike of magic envelop them, they shared fumbled kisses at the brightest sparks, where the magic burned white around them and it was like they were floating on a cloud of their own power, needing to connect somehow, to feel something real and warm pressed against them to make the spinning, rocking flashes of magic seem a little less intimidating, clasping hands as they rocked together with the waves that enveloped them. Panting from the magic and watching as it crackled around them, lighting the patchwork of names and dates and slogans that rose above them like a great wave.

It was near dawn when they finally parted, making their ways back into the real world of stonewash grey and white, Harry returned to the smell of talcum powder and Ginny's flowery perfume. As he fumbled to close the door behind him, he heard the gently shuffle of Ginny's footsteps.

"Oh thank Merlin Harry! I was so worried. Where have you been?" He removed his coat and moved past her further into the house.

"I just lost track of time, and then it was really late, I didn't want to disturb you." He muttered weakly, as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water, anger flared in Ginny's eyes.

"Harry, its six in the morning! And you lost track of time?" Harry muttered a 'yeah' as he put the glass on the sink, moving past her again as he headed to the bathroom, he could feel the dirt from stones and the sticky feeling of climax and magic left on his skin.

"We're going to mums today for lunch remember? Or had you forgotten?" Harry felt a spark of something that could have been regret in his gut; there was a time that lunch at the Weasley's was a highlight of his week.

"Of course I haven't forgotten, I just…" he paused, rubbing his eyes tiredly "I just need a shower." He felt so tired all of a sudden, weighed down, the fire of the previous evening dwindling and the freedom that came with his confessions being over shadowed by a feeling of claustrophobia. He glanced back as he closed the bathroom door, he felt bile rise in his throat and his head throbbed painfully as he saw Ginny, early morning sun shining in through the window casting a warm halo around her as she stood in the doorway, dressed in her worn dressing gown and socked feet, holding James to her as though for warmth. She looked so lost, confused and alone. "I'm sorry Ginny, I should have called or something. I'll be right out and make you breakfast." She gave a wobbly smile and watched as he closed the door. Draco's voice from one of their night a while ago whispered in his mind, 'You have everything, and let me guess, there's still something missing.'

A/N

Hope you liked it, please review and tell me what you thought. I have the next chapter started…