Chapter 10- Souls on Fire

Inching closer, Ron rounded the sofa and plopped down next to a very uptight Hermione.

"Am I interrupting?" Ron's eye gleamed in almost cruel happiness as he settled next to her. She shot him a hurt look; it was obvious he was not no one else was in the common room.

"Sorry," he shrugged casually. "I wasn't sure if Krum was hiding under there." He gestured to the couch, but Hermione had caught his true meaning.

"Ronald!" She growled, throwing her arms up in defeat. Shaking her head in disbelief, she succumbed to calmness and continued.

"How did we get like this?" Ron dropped majority of his rage as he addressed her.

She looked up at him.

"I got a letter and you're just, well….you."

"Bloody hell, 'Mione. You don't know how hard it is to date you. I know one little mistake or another and you'll have no problem replacing me. You know – like Krum," he frowned, as if agitated by his own temper.

"Ron, that's rubbish. I wish I could explain to you," Hermione muttered, scanning the carpet and memorizing the stains.

"And why can't you?" Ron inquired, raising a suspecting brow. "Because there's no answer." Ron replied for her.

"No, you don't understand," Hermione pursued. "Please, Ron. You have to trust me." He chuckled as if to prove that was impossible for him.

"'Mione," Ron started, but silenced himself. He did not want to bring any more distance between them. He yearned to drop all his doubts of her more than anything else, but jealousy was fused too deep in his heart. Swallowing his pride, he drained his tone of any anger that was existent in it before. "Look, you don't owe me anything. Don't explain your problems to me, since obviously they're too personal to share and I'm a misunderstanding git." Slowly raising himself from the couch, he fell back with a tug on his sleeve.

"That's not why I'm not telling you. Believe me, I want you to know."

Ron's face flushed with sympathy and he placed a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Did he threaten you?" Ron's anger busted back out, and Hermione quivered in response. "Tell me, 'Mione. Did he hurt you?"

Hermione fought back the screams that built up in her throat. She wanted to shake sense into him; she needed his help more than ever. But that was why she withdrew from him – their relationship was much too fragile and she could not bear fracturing it. She sat, silently pleading with Ron to figure out the secret. I should not cave into Malfoy like this, she scolded. What would Ron think of me? But this thought disintegrated at the recollection of Krum's letter. Ron furrowed his brow in contemplation; he restrained himself from yelling right then and there. He had to retain control if Hermione was to take him seriously.

"I can't protect you if you don't let me in," Ron's eyes displayed a look of deep sincerity, and Hermione shuddered in realization of the truth in his words. How was he supposed to help, to understand if she didn't tell him? At the same time, though, she was overwhelmed by fear of telling him.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Hermione concluded, sensing Ron's moody vibes. Please don't hate me, she prayed silently.

Ron delved into her orbs, his face white in disbelief. He knew she was hiding something big. Hermione squeezed his hand in apology, and rose up from the couch, unable to find words of speech. Ron sat in the same spot, not moving; he hoped that she would come back and confess. But she did not; instead, she exited the common room, going downstairs.

Draco slumped down in his seat, still locked away in his dormitory. Tears formed in remorseful pools in his eyes. How could he let this happen? He hated himself for his lack of restraint, and for the feelings he could not bury. He knew he had to keep quiet – if his father found out Draco would be dead. Lucius Malfoy was intent on Draco's continuing the family line; besides, the Death Eaters were not very tolerant of anything. He would be isolated from his family and Voldemort would keep an extra harmful eye on him. No big deal. Malfoy spent many nights wondering if that was the catalyst of these feelings – maybe this was just to punish his father for his cruelty. But then the blond grinned in stupor; he could not resist. His fear toward Voldemort, though, did not rival his fear of love. I'm already acting like an ass; I don't even know if he likes me or not, yet I'm chasing him. He trusted things would fall into place – Hermione loved Ron too much not to comply. This was so obvious to him, he shook his head in frustration. They could hold each other all day and night; Draco had to kill off his feelings every time he shared a room with Harry. Draco could sense some tension in Harry's relationship with Seamus; he had, after all, cowered when Seamus declared his love for the boy. Though Draco could identify with Harry regarding his reluctance to display his affection in public, Draco also knew if it was true love, there would be no hesitation. Draco knew Seamus was a bit too lecherous for Harry's standards; there was no real potential for a relationship between the two. Draco giggled evilly at this thought; Hermione would definitely climb up Draco's tolerance list.

"He will be mine!" Draco shouted, almost too loud. No one was in his presence and Draco enjoyed this greatly; his whole like was encased in his prat façade. He was in no rush to come out to anyone; the truth was Crabbe and Goyle were not to be trusted with the secret. Draco had no one to collaborate with. His loneliness contributed to most of his anger; he wanted intimacy more than air. His forbidden lover seduced him as he drew each breath, and Draco woke up, drenched in sweat, various times from dreams of late night meetings. Only in his dreams could he embrace him, kiss him, love him. All of those that he knew, he doubted his knowledge of them. In truth, he had confessed to himself the real cause of his hatred – he longed to be wanted. None of his comrades truly cared or needed him, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had. He balled his hands into tough fists and gritted his teeth. He was ridden with jealousy towards Hermione; she had a boyfriend who openly loved her and Harry was her best friend. He could never be so close to Harry; he could not hug or comfort him. He could not even cheer for him at Quidditch matches.

Why was the world so cruel? Draco could not help being a hopeless romantic. He spent nights up in his dormitory in isolation, thinking of Harry. His mind wandered, exploring the outskirts of reason in deep contemplation; he mapped out his confrontation with Harry. Every night, though, his plans were erased and he refined them. He would come out to Harry; his mind reeled at what the boy's reaction may be. They did have some potential – Ron and Hermione frequently argue and squabble yet they held a strong relationship nonetheless. What made his Harry situation any different? Everyone at Hogwarts loathes me, his friends would abandon him, and Potter cannot handle so much embarrassment. Draco breathed in heavily, and prayed Harry could conquer Voldemort right at this moment, so that their love could be shared. Draco seethed; he knew his father would not approve. But there was no valid fear in his rejection; Draco endured enough alienation at home. This would not effect his father's disappointment too drastically. He entertained the idea of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters rejecting him, leaving Draco free to join forces with his Boy-Who-Was-Loved. Raising from his bed, the Slytherin stalked up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Breaking through the door, he glared across the room, donning his disdainful demeanor. His heart exploded with compassion and he quickly wiped away the tears at the sight of Harry. He searched the room, compelled to greet the Gryffindor with a sweet embrace. However, he restrained himself and turned swiftly to avoid Harry's sight.

"Malfoy," Harry mumbled softly. His sweet voice penetrated Draco's self-inflicted naivety. "Malfoy."

He raised his face to swoon over Harry's. Draco swallowed hard, flushing all ecstasy from his tone. "Potter." It felt so good to hear his name in a normal tone, so different from the usual forced drawl. The two took in each other's appearance, from opposite ends of the room.

A flash of harsh green filled the hall and Malfoy shrieked at the scene: Harry was now on his knees, clutching his chest in pain. He fell down to the floor, twitching in extreme shock. His eyes were wide, and Draco pointed out the agony in Harry's soul. Draco's stomach spun around inside as he saw the trickles of blood form on Harry's lips and flowing down his front. Then the darkness came, and Draco surrendered himself into the mass confusion. He felt as though the ground split between his feet and his knees locked, sending himself headfirst into the floor.

Tremors shot through Draco's body as he gaped at Harry.

"Are you okay?" Harry tried to conceal his truthful concern in vain.

Draco blinked, taking in Harry's unharmed body; no blood-stained shirt, split lip, no clutching of chest. Shaking away the horrid picture, Draco regained his stature. His shocked expression transformed into extreme hostility as he spotted Seamus entering and reaching Harry, stroking his lover's back. Planting a quick kiss on Harry's temple, Seamus smirked at Draco's intensified presence.

"Hey, baby." Seamus threw in, seeing Draco's reaction. Seamus could feel the violence brewing in Malfoy's veins, and loved every minute of it. Storming off, the blond was too choked to shout any understated profanities at Finnigan. He fantasized about stabbing Seamus, slashing into his stomach. More ideas filled his thoughts; all of which, however, were too vulgar for Draco to maintain them and his calm simultaneously.

He thundered out into the open air outside of the castle, inhaling oxygen and reason. Draco could hardily stand his feelings toward Harry – they overtook him too often. Grasping his churning stomach, he collapsed on the grass face down. He rolled in agony and his head pounded as though ten thousand trolls were beating him shamelessly with clubs. He threw up violently onto the ground, and raised his head wearily to the sky. Dizziness consumed him, as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He never felt good after one of those. He crawled over to the nearest tree and plopped up against it, his hands twitching violently. His throat grew exceedingly dry and his body went numb; he hoped one of his cronies would go out for a walk and find him. He sniggered weakly at that; he knew Crabbe and Goyle busied themselves with food, studying it nonstop throughout the weekend. They'd be much too occupied shoving their faces with meals. Draco was finally motivated by the sour taste in his mouth and he rose gently to his feet. He trudged over toward the castle once again, keeping his thoughts in line.

"Draco," Hermione called, meeting him halfway to the castle. He groaned in frustration; he just wanted to lay his head down.

"What the fuck do you want?!" He roared, holding out his hands to balance his weight.

Hermione looked at him menacingly and he discarded his cover. He needed her, and thus had no place to agitate her. "I'm sorry."

Hermione gasped; she had never heard him utter anything toward her without reluctance. "Are you…alright?" She clutched him by the shoulder, leaning a bit into him to keep him from falling over. She looked into his orbs and noticed his pain.

"No, not particularly," his tone seeped with sarcasm, "What did you want?"

"Well, I just needed to talk with you," Hermione faked, but restructured her statement. "Oh bugger. Alright…I wanted to talk to you." She rolled her eyes as his face brightened.

"Oi, what about?" he gagged at his own breath, covering his mouth with an unsteady hand.

"Right. Ron has totally lost it." She slowly spat out, reluctant to display too many human characteristics with him.

"Yeah. What had you expected?"

"Ugh. Damn you! You many have forgotten – it's all your fault!" She dropped her grip on him. Stepping forward, he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, forcefully.

"Listen. We both agreed – no Seamus, no Krum," Draco recited this line through his teeth.

"I won't lose him over your lust," she now grimaced, disgusted with him. Draco no longer dwelled on what had just happened; he felt his strength gather.

"You may not understand this new concept – it's called love. You are obviously lacking, judging by your current relationship with Weasley." She threw his hand off her and confronted him, inches away from his face.

"How dare you…you…UGH! Listen, you stay away from my friends…!" She struggled through her screaming, too disgruntled over the whole situation.

"Alright the, Krummy won't," he grinned devilishly.

"Fine. I'll just report you," she threatened him. Draco recognized it as an empty threat, but he wanted her to know his true intentions.

"No! Wait," he yelled, and Hermione's death glare fell. "Look, you don't understand. There's so many things I want him to know – things that would jeopardize my own existence."

"-or reputation," Hermione finished his sentence inaccurately.

"No, this is not about that- I'm not like Harry. I can declare my love as soon as I declare my sexuality. But I would be sought out if the wrong people found out." He swallowed his own spit, trying to clear the burning in his throat. Hermione now showed pity toward him; understanding replaced aggravation.

"I'm just protective of him – perhaps too much," she shrugged, anger subsiding.

"I cannot imagine how hard it must be."

"You and me, we're very similar; more than you would even consider. Why do you think I constantly harass Harry?!" Draco questioned, soaking in her newly acquired sympathy. "The same reason you and Weasley go at it."

"Alright. But for me to really help you, I need more from you. Ron won't even talk to me."

"What am I supposed to do?! Bloody hell! 'Hey Weasley, these letters from Krum are my own'. Then he'd think me in love with you." He shuddered in disgust – he could never see him with anyone but Harry. He never gave it a thought before Harry.

"Okay. You're right," Hermione heaved a hard sigh, sensing that her relationship with Ron would diminish drastically. "What should I do?" She questioned herself.

"Dunno. Have you talked to Harry about it? Maybe he can sort it out," Draco paused in thought, "Ugh. I'm sorry." The two stood, both confused at their own change of heart. It was surreal to think they were helping the other, and actually shared worries. Hermione recognized a drastic change in Malfoy's appearance towards her, and she was a skilled judge of character. No matter how horrible he treated them before, she could not help but deny the hostility. She realized they both could help each other and benefit from a mutual friendship.

She waited a few beats after Malfoy left, searching her mind for any reasonable solution. Hearing padding from behind, Hermione turned keenly around, only to be welcomed by a carrying note.

Call me foolish

Call me naïve

For wearing my heart

Upon my sleeve

She blinked once, twice, ten times; the voice carried out of Ron was amazing; she stood in a trance, barely aware of the sniggering around her as the scene drew much attention.

Call me stupid

Call me ignorant

Just please call to me

Ron approached her, striding rhythmically and clutching a crumbled parchment in his hand. He looked desperate; his hair messed up from many scratches of the head that he carried on during contemplation. Ron was never this forward, and Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach as he continued to serenade her.

Whatever he has

Whatever he offers

I'll love you more

I can double

He reached out to her, clasping her chin in genuine compassion. He licked his lips and shut out all of the cat calls that besieged them. Ron trudged into her eyes, capturing her attention as well as her love.

Whatever he's been saying

Fill your mind with lies

If you could bear my fears

Your love for him would disappear

Ron dropped his grip on her, and started encircling her, not talking his eyes off her. He knew if he were to look around, he would lose all nerve. Echoes from behind found Ron hearing coos from the Patil twins. He wiped his brow to seek his courage once again, and sang in all foolishness in front of all of his peers.

Call me stupid

Call me dumb

I will not rip this heart

Here from my sleeve

He gently tugged at her sleeve, mimicking his song and grinning at her. She drove him to make a complete idiot out of himself and he didn't even care. All he was concerned with was winning her over once again.

Whatever he's been telling you

I ask you to ignore

My beautiful girl, this heart is true

Do you see in me what I see in you?

The laughter roared all around him, and he grew dizzy while encircling her further. He worried that his voice would crack in agony but finished his penned thoughts with clouded sight. Salty tears danced in his sight, causing him to be disoriented; it added to his tolerance of the calls thrown at him.

I never felt this way before

Never wanted something more

All the obstacles I'd endure

Only to return to you

He beamed at her, his whole body enduring an earthquake; Ron could not stand the stupidity he donned so well. He would much rather accept rejection and remain friends, then spend their days apart in useless disdain.

Only your touch awakens my body

They drew closer, lecherous lips steaming in wild frenzy. A full embrace. Then- the kiss started. Sweat formed on the back, soaking up into the shirt, and they both smiled sinfully at one another. It tasted so good. Clothes were ripped at from either side, and satisfaction could not be achieved with the fabrics that clung them to isolation.

Only your kiss widens my eyes

This was what he desired. He thoroughly thought about this fantasy, willing it into reality. It was true; this was what he really wanted. Nothing was more erotic than a forbidden love masked in darkness, the only light consisting of the moon and the flames in hearts.

You can change me like nobody else

Licking lips, he continued thinking about his love, about the one that drove him insane. There was not enough physical contact between the two; not to match his tastes. The only problem was, did his desire share his fantasy? He wore a tired frown; he was so sick of the restraint they had. What made them so formal? They knew what was between them. The sexual tension sparking between the two was apparent to anyone he could ask. When would they take action and appease their lusts?

Just promise to change with me