Title: Burn

Author: xxForgotten

Pairing(s): HP/DM, slight RW/HG

Setting: Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards:)

Warning(s): Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

Summary: Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Heh sorry about the late update. Review review :)

Chapter 9: Goodnight

Harry

I've been fine. I guess you could say that about the past few months. That's what I would say about them. I woke up, got dressed, showered, went on with my daily routines, had supper, tucked James in, went to bed.

I was fine, all until that night.

That night, I didn't cook. I went out to get us both some takeaways, as I thought that James would be sick of my god- awful cooking by then. Well, I was. So I went out. But even when I was nearing my block, I knew something was off. I don't know what. Hermione's questioned me for more times than I can remember, but I just don't know what it was. A gut feeling? A hunch?

Yes, I know that it would be hugely useful. Criminal investigation, right? Thing is... when I stepped into the house, James was missing.

My mind's just about blanked out from then till now. They've got numerous aurors on the case. I guess I should feel reassured. They are the best, after all. But it's almost been a week, and all they've found is a very distraught 'Mione, and, well, me. Little ol' me.

It all seems so surreal, you know? One moment he's here, all smiles and nonstop chattering, and the next moment there are teary friends, questions, scattered clothes, and numerous aurors in his place. I feel like some part of me is missing. But somehow the sun just keeps on shining, and the sky seems impossibly bluer than ever.

If this is some kind of cruel joke, it isn't funny.

"Harry, do you think it might be Vol..."

"He's dead, Hermione. I double checked."

"I know, but James..."

"He wouldn't."

Hermione looked at me, brown eyes wide and wet, and I almost smiled. The expression was so familiar. She's been using it to get Ron and I to do stuff since I can remember. One look from those pleading eyes, and she would have us in her grip. Merlin, I miss those years.


Hermione

He's changed so much. He's never been anything like a typical teenager, and well... he's never followed any of the rules meant for them either, but there's always been something boyishly innocent about him. The way he talked, smiled, trusted people in the blink of an eye.

He's sitting on his bed, in front of the fire, head buried in his hands. I want to go over, hug him, talk to him, tell him that everything's going to be okay like it always is, but something about him is holding me back. Like it's telling me I'm just going to be lying to him, lying to myself. Truth is- I don't know where James is. The rest of the aurors have no idea either. We don't know if he's still breathing, let alone if he's okay. And right now, with a distraught Harry and a bunch of clueless aurors in the house, the atmosphere is strangely suffocating.


If anyone had paid a little more attention, they might have noticed a miniature, golden device floating silently next to Harry's bed. On its surface were 6 apparently random numbers, and to anyone else, it might have appeared to be a clock of sorts. But its numbers went in reverse, and it would have been useless as one.

Harry turned onto his side and fingered it quietly, tracing the delicate numbers and turning it softly this way and that. The last two digits flipped back.. once, twice.

49... 48... 47... 46...

Harry sighed and let go, not daring to close his eyes, because then all he'd be able to see would be James, aged 2, grinning, wide-eyed, at a passing insect on the pavement. James, aged 3, sleeping soundly with the tiniest string of drool coming out from his cherry red, parted lips. James, aged 1 and a half, furrowing his brows, pretending to read and failing horribly because of the book's upside down state. James, James, James.

James had been occupying every corner of his brain for the past week. Everywhere he turned, whenever he spotted a dark haired boy downstairs from the window, he saw James.

The aurors were doing everything they could, he knew that. But seeing Hermione pacing around wringing her hands wasn't doing a lot for his fragile mental state. Ever so often she would do jump ever so slightly, go out of the room, and come back, face flushed and with hope shining in her desperate brown eyes. Her leads always turned up empty. And Harry watched as the light in her eyes slowly dimmed, even after one of her little starts.

Right now, he just wanted some peace. He wanted James to stay safe, and to be safe in his arms. But all evidence the aurors found pointed to the same conclusion: That James had just disappeared into thin air, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. There were simply no signs. Of anything.


Harry

I remember thinking that I could do with a good wash, if only to cleanse my mind of unwanted suspicions and worries. I was just making my way out, when I heard familiar voices from the other side of the door. Two familiar voices, to be exact. A male's and a female's. And it all came rushing back.

Malfoy. Hermione. The letter. Farewell.

I didn't even think. I pushed the door open and rushed into the cold. They turned instantly, shocked, wands outstretched and pointed towards me.

"Harry! What.. what are you doing here?"

I ignored her.

He was standing right there in front of me, eyes widened in.. fear? Shock?

"..Harry?"

Hermione's expression was one of concern now.

"Draco and I... we were just sharing what we had found about James. He's helping us too, you know.."

So he was her secret informant, her little starts and abrupt departures. To think I had thought for a brief second that it had been Ron. But then something registered in what was left of my rat's nest of a brain.

"Draco?"

"Yeah... what's wrong?" She peered at me curiously.

"Since when did he become Draco?"

Okay, so I might have been a little blunt. He'd been avoiding my gaze already, but as soon as the words left my mouth, he looked as if he'd been punched. Hard.

"Harry!"

"What?" I stared long and hard at them. "I've been missing everything about this person who everyone says I've known and hated for seven whole years, and my son just disappeared! Do you expect me to smile and ask him to sit down for a cup of tea?"

"He was just trying to help, Harry..."

I sighed.

"..I know. I'm.. sorry, I don't know what got into me. Just.. please come in,"

Both of them visibly relaxed as I held the door open. I was just about to close it when I caught them. The first words he had said to me since I had rushed out.

Thank you, Harry.

I could have cried.


The time passed, and the sun set slowly once again, just like the day before, and the day before that. The crowd of aurors dispersed slowly, some of them going out on more futile searches, some of them retiring for the day and going back to their families, some going home for hours of long- needed sleep. Some still lingered about, brows knitted together, deep in thought.

Harry's countdown clock read 010443.

One day, four hours and forty-three seconds. All that was left until they were duty- bound to give everything up, James or no James. It had been, by now, fifty-nine days since James had vanished, and the ministry's official time limit for investigations was sixty days, max. It might seem heartless, but disappearances in the magical community were just a little too common. Some people returned of their own accord, some turned up dead, and some were just never seen again. Harry knew they couldn't be held for the blame, but he just couldn't help the tiny, burning flame of annoyance that had just sparked up inside him.

Draco and Hermione sat on nearby couches, going through the almost nonexistent evidence for what seemed like the millionth time... and finding virtually nothing. She eventually fell asleep on a plastic folder as the night progressed, expression painted with worry. He just went on, eyes blazing with tired determination.

Harry watched, jaded, from a corner, brooding over his lost son, and the flame grew.

It grew, from a tiny spark of frustration to a dull, fiery ache, to a bonfire of emotions. And he found that he just couldn't take it anymore.

His countdown clock read 010000.

And Draco chose that exact little moment to walk over.

"...Harry?"


Draco

He just grabbed me, out of nowhere. I didn't fight; I knew that I could never win, even if he used only half of his strength. I looked up in shock, and the thing that shook me the most was his eyes. Emerald flames replaced them, and they burned. I felt them, even when I closed mine. I felt them burning a hole into me. They were so wild, so uncontrolled, so un- Harry. This person holding me with a grip like steel was no Harry. One look told me that much.

But even so, they were beautiful. And I found myself mesmerized, stunned into paralyzed silence.

That's when he kissed me.

I didn't- couldn't move. His lips crashed onto mine, hard, unforgiving. They meant to hurt, to bruise. And I let them. There wasn't anything else I could do. He tasted of mint and melted chocolate.

This wasn't Harry, it didn't matter. This was nobody.

I felt his tongue prodding at my teeth, and I parted them slowly. This wasn't Harry, right? It didn't matter.

...Did it?

I don't know how much time passed with me standing there, unmoving, with my eyes tightly shut. It wasn't until I tasted salt and the rusty tang of blood when I opened them.

And found him, face only inches away from mine, staring at me.

He gently removed his lips from mine, and they were red from blood. If it was mine or not, I don't know. I felt the weight of his stare burning into me, and I looked up to meet his eyes. The utter shame of what had happened didn't hit me like I'd expected. His gaze was merely confused. Curious.

I closed my eyes again, in the hopes that I could somehow disappear into the silence and the darkness of the night.

...Is it such a surprise that I failed, really? All I could smell, all I could feel, all I could see was emerald. Just when I was about to drown in a pool of melted, minty chocolate, his voice brought me back to earth.

"..Draco?"

I knew, without opening my eyes, that normal-Harry was back.

"Draco, look at me."

...Or maybe not.

"I.. I want to see you."

And all I wanted was a hole for me to crawl into.

"...Please?"

I sighed, and opened my eyes.

He raised a finger, and stroked my cheekbone, my lips. It was brilliant ruby when it came away. Then he repeated his request, more demandingly this time.

"Please?"

Something inside me told me that what he wanted wasn't just me standing there in front of him like an idiot, bleeding, weak, and for the first time, at a loss for words. But he just looked so hurt, so desperate, that I had to. And I did.

I, against my better judgment, did something that I had only done once in front of my godfather, and had since sworn never to do again. I closed my eyes and let the glamour that I had been hiding behind for a year and a half fall.


Hermione

I woke to the labored sounds of heavy breathing. But before I could get my facts straight about what had happened, I saw him.

He looked exactly like a Draco Malfoy that I knew, with the same delicate features, striking eyes, and heart-stopping airs. But the only difference was that his face was completely devoid of colour, with the exception of his lips, which were bright crimson, for reasons unknown to me. His eyes were sunken, but just as bright, if not even more, than ever. His cheeks were hollowed, his cheekbones heightened.

"What?"

I almost jumped, before I noticed Harry. Uh-oh.

"...I always knew. But.. but why..?"

Oh, Harry. I could almost see the answer written out in Draco's eyes. But he bit his already mangled lower lip and said nothing, ignoring the blatant you hanging in the air.

I don't know what had happened, but what I could see was that Harry had gotten to know that Draco was wearing a permanent glamour charm, and as the completely oblivious person that he is, had forced Draco to take it off.

They apparently didn't know I was watching, so I closed my eyes, pretended to be asleep, and listened. It shames me, you know, that my friend had been wearing a glamour all the time around me, and that I hadn't suspected a thing. It makes me question myself. How good of a friend am I, really?

If Harry and Draco are of any proof at all, the answer's probably not one I'm willing to hear.

Oh, if only Ron were here. He'd know what to do. He understands Harry miles better than I ever could. But what can I say? He's in Romania with his family.

There was a long period of silence. A sigh and a sniff. Then:

"It's getting late,"

"I know,"

"We'll find James, you know."

"I know,"

Another sigh.

Then there was the shuffling of feet, a brief ripple of magic which had to be Draco putting on his glamour again, the sigh of a couch as someone lay down on it.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco."


A/N: I'm really sorry about the double post, but I found a plothole upon skimming through the story again as a whole. Anyways, hope you like :)